Old Shoes

It's interesting to me how when I'm running I can be completely exhausted but my mind is not at all tired. I usually like to make a mental list before I begin a long run of all the things I would like to think about. A thought agenda of sorts. I have come to some very profound conclusions and made some pretty important decisions during some of my most difficult runs. One of the reasons I love running so much is because it gives me an hour or two to just think about whatever I want. I have very little personal space when I'm home--mentally or physically. I'm not complaining though. I have the greatest job in the world and there isn't much I would change. I just believe that I am a better mother and wife when I set aside time for myself to exercise.

The other night I set out for a long run after a very frustrating and stressful day. I needed this time desperately. I needed to be able to think about things and sort through some emotions I was feeling. I created my mental agenda and was on my way. I was trudging along nicely when I realized my shoes felt uncomfortable. I looked down and realized I had put on the wrong pair. In the rush to get out the door I had grabbed my old pair that had about 350 miles on them and were missing the insoles. Anybody who has run long distance knows how important a good pair of running shoes is. You can't skimp on them and they must be replaced when they've worn down.

I decided I would keep going and hope for the best. I began thinking about the old shoes I was wearing and what they had done for me. I thought about how hard and miserable I was those first few months of training and how it had been almost exactly a year since I started. I thought about the blood stains that were still on them and how I ran my first 5K in them. I thought about how happy I was when it was time to replace them because I knew that it meant I had worked hard.

I then began to think about the last year and how much I was able to accomplish and how much I have grown. I resisted the temptation to reflect on my failures for a little while. I thought about the old me. The me that would give up doing something if it was too hard. I was always too afraid to complete something in fear that I would just fail. I thought about my friends that have helped me along the way. The friends who never gave up on me and have encouraged me along the way. I thought about the meaning of a true friend and how good it feels to have discovered a few along the way. Friends who genuinely rejoice in your accomplishments and hurt when you hurt. I felt a wave of gratitude and pride. The good kind of pride.

My thoughts then moved to my daughter. The one in the middle. The one that I had been so frustrated and short with that day. I ached for her and have spent sleepless nights trying to figure out what I can do to help her. I realized that night that if I would put as much effort as I have put into my fitness goals into making her life better, maybe she would be a little happier. She is worth it. She has been struggling with her emotions lately and my patience is really being tested. She needs love. And attention. She has a blog and if you would like to make her LIFE, hop on over and leave her a comment. She would be ecstatic! You have no idea! She was just telling me this morning how she doesn't want to write on it anymore because nobody comments. How pathetic is that?

As I finished my run that night I felt a renewed sense of peace and determination to do a little better. I also came home and disposed of those old shoes because it was time.

And my feet hurt.