Training for a half marathon is not an easy feat, at least for me. Today the weather channel showed 70-80% of rain in our area for the entire day; as the Nashville Half Marathon inches closer (April 28th!), backing down is not an option.
So run in the rain, I did. Every step made a splash and my shoes were like running in soaked sponges. At times I could hardly see where I was going. The water was pouring over my face and I looked like a doused kitten by the time I got home. Pathetic, right?
On top of that, hardly a soul was out. No one to smile, wave or simply nod at. No children playing on the playground. Not even many cars on the streets. No one in their yards.
Running in the rain was proving to be lonely.
Unlike the race in a couple weeks, there were no bands playing every few miles. No flag-waving, cheering crowds. Not a table of water cups in sight.
In fact, one car swerved at me purposely to prove their point that I shouldn’t be running.
And the few cars that passed me held people with very puzzled looks…
one man shook his head. A lady at her mailbox saw me and raised her eyebrows…I’m thinking out of shock.
12 miles is a long ways to go with no exterior encouragement.
But it sure provided thinking time. And communication with my Creator.
Our conversation was something like:
Wow, God. It’s interesting that this rain test today is so much like life. Not everyone understands why we do what we do. It would seem easier NOT to run. It would seem the solution would be to pick another day to do the longer run…to improvise the schedule. But, Lord, I don’t control the weather. Just like I don’t control life. The circumstances You’ve given to me are not ones I would choose. Sunshine is much more up my alley; but if I learn to run through the rain, then my training reaps great dividends. I’m more prepared for the race when I run, no matter the situation. I’m stronger and ready for the next race, as a result of the training.
And about that time, a precious little girl ran into her driveway as I was approaching her house. She had a huge smile,and her nightgown on.
Flitting and twirling like a ballerina, I watched her giggling and lifting her face up to the rain drops.
She and the rain had a friendship, a bond.
Her view pictured rain as a gift. Not an enemy.
And she danced with joy.
I trudged my way through those 12 miles…but I brought home a greater lesson than persistence.
Rain is only rain.
I get to choose whether to let the circumstance mold my attitude
Or dance with joy.