egads.

Today is a rest day, which means it’s a writing day.  Unfortunately, I took an extra rest day this week due to some shin splints returning in one of my legs.  Injuries are probably the thing I am most afraid of during this training process.  I don’t know about other training runners, but for me, injuries are terrifying.  Part of that is my own personal background.  Earlier this year (January-February) I had a mysterious injury in my right knee that caused me to have a Baker’s cyst, a pretty common running injury.  They took care of the cyst, I had to rest for 6 weeks, and I came back to running with a few new leg exercises to strengthen my muscles and prevent future injuries.  Overall, I was fine.  But having to take 6 weeks off? YIKES. The half is only 3 ½ weeks away (WHAT.) and I don’t have that kind of time.  So, rather than throwing myself into further injury, I took the advice of my wise husband/personal trainer and decided to rest rather than push myself harder and risk a worse injury.

On a lighter note, I made a happy discovery this past week in the way of running “snacks”.  (I know hardcore runners would chastise me for my use of the word snacks, but that is what they are.  Little snacks to help me run better.  So I’ll stick with my word choice. ;))  There is an awesome running store in our area called Playmaker’s.  I finally made my first trip there last week with Dave and, much to my excitement, they have my favorite running snack. In 8 different flavors.

Clif Shot Bloks.

I discovered these in Missouri this summer when I was attempting my first “long run” (those 4 miles seem so short compared to this week’s 9 mile long run!).  I wanted to try using a running snack because I knew eventually I would need them.  It’s hard to gauge when you should start practicing with running snacks.  If you use them too early, you are giving your body extra calories that it doesn’t really need.  But if you wait too long, you could end up hurting yourself or becoming dehydrated/dizzy/etc. on your long runs.  Thankfully, the Clif Shot Bloks are able to be portioned depending on how far you’re running.

These things are like candy.  I told Dave yesterday that I wanted to go running just so I could eat one! (I’m a little outrageous. It’s fine.)  They’re intended to help you get energized mid-run.  A lot of people use little packets of performance gel (lovingly referred to by some friends of mine as “goo”) to energize, but I am going to admit my weakness here: I am too much of a wimp to use them.  I tried one a couple weeks ago and totally gagged the entire time.  So, I have Shot Bloks.

The reasons I like them are as follows:
1. They’re not goo, and do not make me gag.  There are six “Bloks” per pack, and they’re sort of like fruit snacks but easier to chew. 
2. GOOD FLAVORS. Nobody wants a bad aftertaste in their mouth when you’ve got 4-5 more miles to run. My newst flav: Cran-Razz.
3. Caffeine-free options.  I don’t like using caffeine to energize or enhance running performance, there are Shot Blocks with and without added caffeine.
4. Portions.  The “goo” only comes in one size; Shot Blocks, in individual pieces, can be portioned out depending on the amount of calories I need to take in on a specific run.

So, if you’re like me and need to skip the “goo”, Shot Bloks are a great alternative.  Check them out! :)

Well, obviously I haven’t been keeping you in the loop about my training considering the last thing I wrote about was Missouri. I have been out of Missouri for just about a month now. Oops.

Today is a rest day.  The training schedule I’m on has 5 days of activity and two days of rest.  Today is one of those days of rest, and I am definitely needing it. Dave and I have logged twelve miles so far this week and tomorrow we’ll add eight more.

EIGHT.

That freaks me out, like, a lot.  Last week our long distance run was seven miles, and it was amazing and difficult and strange. It took me just over an hour to run those seven miles, and when it was done I was in shock.  I can’t do ANYTHING for an hour straight. Except maybe watch Food Network.  My mind has a hard time focusing on anything for that long.  But this training has allowed me to learn focus and endurance that I lacked previously.  Suddenly running for an hour, though difficult, has become exciting and exhilirating, a welcome challenge. Every time we add a mile to that distance run, though, I get freaked out. It’s hard to imagine that in a month, it will be 13.1 miles. It will probably take me a little over two hours to finish it.

Egads.

Though I am afraid, I am seeing crazy progress.  It was just about a year ago that Dave and I started running together and decided to train for my first 5k.  At that time, my average running distance during the week was 1.34 miles.  I would run about half way, and then walk for a few minutes because I was tired, and then slowly jog the rest of the way home and wait for it to be over.  It took about 15 minutes and I did not exactly love it. So it comes as a surprise that a year later I have developed a love affair with running and am going to run eight miles tomorrow as a part of a 14-week training plan. WHAT. So crazy.

This weekend, two good friends of mine from my staff team are running a half-marathon in Lansing. I am so excited to go and cheer them on! It will be my first time ever actually seeing a half-marathon. I’m hoping that going to watch the race will,
1. Get me more excited for my own half-marathon,
2. Get out some of the jitters I have about the race, and
3. Not freak me out completely or make me terrified.

Oh boy.

My goal is to continue writing here on my rest days.  There is so much to process through during this training and I think it would be fun to keep sharing it with you. :)

Next post: My favorite running treats!

This weekend I got the chance to run a “5k” race with my friend Jen (I’ll explain those quotation marks soon enough).  Jen has been my running partner all summer here in Missouri.  We met at the FIT class at our church and were lucky enough to have clicking personalities AND similar pacing for running.  Saturday was our last run together before I head back to Michigan, and I love that we got to finish the summer strong by being in a race together.

The race itself was called “Run for the Fallen”.  These events take place all over the country and participants run in memory of all the soldiers whose lives were lost in conflict. To be running this race on post, surrounded by soldiers and Army families and in the presence of several families who have lost a loved one in conflict, was really an honor.  I’ve never been a part of anything like that before.

After the opening words, the singing of the national anthem, and the introduction of a few families present representing fallen soldiers, we set our watches and turned to the starting line.  At this point I started to get nervous. This was only my second race of any kind, and the last one I ran was on Thanksgiving last year with my husband.  I have been training and running a lot since then, and I was anxious to see how the race would go.  It was just a 5k anyways, 3.1 miles.  Jen and I have been running that far together, and farther, all summer. No big deal, right?

The race started, we set our pace, and we ran. It was so beautiful outside, much cooler than it has been in the past couple of weeks.  We felt good as we ran, chatting now and then, trying to remain focused. But after awhile, we started to get confused.  We had been running for close to 30 minutes and we knew we weren’t close to the finish line yet.  At this point, Jen said, “I think they measured this wrong. There’s no way this is only 3 miles, we should be finishing up right now.”  Now, I was really skeptical.  I told her I didn’t think they would measure it wrong, how could they? I suggested that maybe we were just running really slowly, but in my head I knew we weren’t.  So what was going on?  We decided to keep the pace, eyes fixed ahead, and ignore the confusion. We wanted to finish strong, no matter what was going on.

Our husbands were waiting for us at the finish line.  Dave had actually run the race too, but he’s a bit faster than I am.  Jen and I immediately started expressing our frustration and confusion about the run and our timing, etc.  At this point, Dave informed us that Jen had been completely right.  The landmarks they gave us to run by were incorrect, and we (along with all of the other runners) had just run about 4.3 miles instead of 3.1.

Well, I just about lost it, laughing my head off and smiling like a child. We didn’t run slow! We had finished right on time. 

All things considered, this was a really good experience.  It taught me to trust my pacing and timing, not to push myself harder or give up quickly when the situations around me are confusing.  Also, I am now highly considering investing in one of those sweet GPS watches that tells you how far you’re running… you know, just in case.

(ps. Major accomplishment of this race- running the entire time! No walking breaks for this girl.)

Hey friends. :) It’s been quite awhile since I posted anything here on “egads”, mainly because I transitioned over to a new blog (http://all-things-bright.tumblr.com) that would focus more specifically on my married life and the places that God is taking Dave and me.  But as of recently, I’ve had some things to write about that don’t quite fit in my new blog’s personality. So, I’m back. And for the next couple of months, I’m going to be writing about something that I never, ever, in my entire life thought I would find myself writing about.

Running a half-marathon.

Let me start by saying that I am not naturally a runner.  Up until the past few years, I avoided running at all costs.  When I played sports as a kid (and pre-teen), I was constantly the slowest girl on the team.  I have one specific memory of running sprints at volleyball practice that sums up how I used to feel about running.  The whole team was running sprints together while the coach yelled and whistled from the side of the court. I tried, I really tried, to keep up with the rest of the group, but I felt myself falling behind.  We had been running sprints all throughout the afternoon and I was exhausted.  Before we started the next round of sprints, I leaned to my friend muttered about my exhaustion.  When we began the sprints as a team, I didn’t even try.  I jogged, slowly, falling far behind the team. My friend, out of kindness, slowed and ran at my pace. 

My coach made my friend and I run another set of sprints alone, in front of the entire team.  And I was totally humiliated.

It took me four years to start running again after that because I just didn’t think I had it in me.  But I was terrified of gaining the freshman fifteen and forced myself to the gym to jog around the track. It was only out of guilt that I was running, and I still felt the way I did that time in the gym at volleyball practice: I was slow. I was embarrassed. And I just couldn’t seem to keep up.

I’ve changed a lot since then. After years of fighting against my body and being frustrated by it, my mindset changed.  I grew to understand that God created me to specifically and uniquely bring His beauty to the world.  I also started to understand that taking care of my body was important, and I didn’t ever have to be ashamed of where I was at because I was moving forward. And that is enough.

So, after a couple of years of awkward gym moments, meeting the man of my dreams who happened to run and wanted to help me with running, and developing a deeper sense of conviction about taking care of myself, here I am.  I ran my first 5k race with Dave last November and I loved it.  I loved running with my husband, getting outside and being able to really breathe as my lungs opened to the air, and the feeling that I was moving forward towards the girl that God has created me to be. And now, I’m training for my first long race. 13.1 miles.

If you’ve been with me for awhile, you know that I love to write. I love to tell stories, share my experiences, and process and share the things I’m learning. I am going to write about what running is teaching me, how the training experience is going, and probably other fun things along the way.

Here we go.

For the past three years, I have spent my bring break telling people about the love of Jesus in Panama City Beach, Florida.

And tomorrow, I am going there for the fourth time.

My freshman year was really rough, but that trip to PCB really changed my life.  I was just diving back into my faith, and really wanted to take a step of faith to do this trip.  I was scared of it, and I didn’t know people super well, but I felt drawn to the trip.  So I decided to go. And that trip… it taught me so much about prayer, and sharing about Christ, and community/fellowship, and the brokenness of people who haven’t ever known God’s love. It was awesome.

So sophomore year, when the opportunity arose to go back, I jumped on it.  I was at a new school, with a new community, but I was excited.  And that year I learned a lot more about how to share Christ with people, and I learned a lot more about friendship and community.

Junior year spring break rolled around and I couldn’t think of anything else I’d rather do but go to PCB.  But this time, the trip was different.  I got engaged a week before I left, and I spent most of the week obsessing over wedding details in my mind.  I didn’t have as many friends on the trip, so I had a lot of alone time.  And that week, I learned alot about what God wants from me- complete devotion, my undivided attention.

So here I am.  It’s senior year, and I’m going back to Panama City Beach as a married girl and helping out with some staff stuff as my husband leads the rest of the students on the trip.  I get this really anxious and excited feeling when I think about pulling up to the place we stay at, and walking down the stretch of beach which I have walked so many times before in the hope that I might get the chance to tell someone how much God loves them. 

Please pray for our trip. <3

“I think love will hear calls where the loveless heart will not know that they are sounding. If there were a hundred little children crying, a mother would be able to pick out the voices of her own - especially if they were voices of pain and suffering.

There is a mighty keenness in the ears of love, and I wonder, after all, whether that may not explain a great deal that one is perplexed over in this matter of a special missionary call. Is it possible that, in many cases, it is just a matter of a callused heart, a reluctant will, or a sealed mind?

God so loved the world that He gave. It was need in the world plus love in God that constituted a call for Jesus. Do we need more than what sufficed for Him? If they were our own, would we hesitate and hold back?

Let us lay aside all double-dealing, all moral subterfuge, all those shuffling evasions by which the Devil is attempting to persuade us to escape from our duty, and let us get up like men and look at it and do it.”

—“A Missionary Call”, Robert E. Speer

This has been on my heart for a few weeks now.
The call of God on our lives is to love, and to give.  And so often I deny that call, in daily situations, because my heart is hard and calloused. I don’t have the same desperation and devotion to loving people that God does.  But if I open my heart to that, I think my fear will subside, and I will be willing to truly go.

{{God, give me a heart of compassion.}}

I started reading the news again recently.

I am going to admit to you that most of the time, I am pretty ignorant to what is going on in the world outside of my apartment, my college campus, and my city.  My life is busy and I choose to spend my free time watching Food Network or getting coffee with friends.  But Egypt and Libya simply cannot be ignored.

I’m overwhelmed by the world around me.

My life is so small, and my needs very petty in comparison to the needs of those in the rest of the world.

I’m sitting in a warm classroom on the campus of a major university on my personal laptop writing a blog about my feelings. 
Somewhere in Libya, people are fighting for freedom, justice, and life.

Part of me wants to vomit, and the other part of me just falls to my knees because I cannot understand the grace and blessings I’ve been given.

The following psalm has been my favorite Bible passage for a long time, but it’s really pounding in my heart today.  I praise God that He sees and knows all nations, and all people. Our hearts can be still before Him.

Psalm 46
¹ God is our refuge and strength,
   an ever-present help in trouble.
² Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
   and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
³ though its waters roar and foam
   and the mountains quake with their surging.^[c]

 ⁴ There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
   the holy place where the Most High dwells.
⁵ God is within her, she will not fall;
   God will help her at break of day.
⁶Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
   he lifts his voice, the earth melts.

 ⁷ The LORD Almighty is with us;
   the God of Jacob is our fortress.

 ⁸ Come and see what the LORD has done,
   the desolations he has brought on the earth.
⁹ He makes wars cease
   to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
   he burns the shields^[d] with fire.
¹⁰ He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
   I will be exalted among the nations,
   I will be exalted in the earth.”

 ¹¹ The LORD Almighty is with us;
   the God of Jacob is our fortress.