When I was in 6th grade I decided I had had enough of our physical fitness tests in school. I devised a plan to get me out of our spring half mile run that proved to be successful. I knew that if I could come up with a reason to go to the doctor that I could manipulate my mother into making the appointment during gym class on the day of the infamous 800 without her suspecting anything. I wasn't going to fake an illness; that would be too hard to pull off. I knew my abilities and limits. I have been cursed with ingrown toe nails my entire life, compliments of my father's genetics, and that was my in. My dad had just had one removed at the doctor and I was going to follow his medical example. Our gym teacher gave us a week or so notice for when the big event would be and then I artfully waited until two or three days before then to tell my mom that I HAD to go to the doctor to get my toe nail fixed. She said she would call the next morning. I nonchalantly suggested the day and time that would work best for my overbearing 6th grade schedule and she conformed. When we arrived at the doctor, I was informed that my ingrown toenail wasn't that bad and was sent back on my way. I didn't care though, because I got out of running at a humiliatingly slow pace with all my classmates and my only punishment was a reprimand for being a drama queen about my toe and a B in PE because I conveniently never had time to stay after school to make up my run. I tell this story to illustrate one important point;
I absolutely loath running.
I've tried to get into running a few times during my life because I wanted a runner's physique, but it never stuck. I usually give it a go for a few weeks and then decide that it isn't worth the effort. Imagine my horror when my mission president and his wife announced that we would be running a 5K as a mission the Monday before Thanksgiving. I immediately hated my life. We were given a modified Couch to 5K training schedule and cheerfully told to give it our all and results would follow. Shortly thereafter I dubbed the race Satan's 5K and didn't truly know how fitting that name would prove to be.
From the get go I knew it would be harder than ever to get into running because I couldn't bump my jams while I hit the pavement. In the past I put my ear buds in and turned up some form of teen pop music to a volume just beneath ear drum shattering in order to drown out my heavy breathing. Without upbeat melodies and horribly written, yet alarmingly catchy lyrics in my ears, I was left with only an angry inner diatribe and gasps for air to serenade my run (which is really more like a brisk walk with a bounce). Very quickly, my negative thoughts branched out and multiplied until every morning my work out included a tangled web of self loathing thoughts and lies. Not too long after we started training for our 5K, the destructive ideas started to leak past my half an hour work out and into the hour I got ready as well.
"I hate running because I'm so out of shape," lead to, "I'm
never going to get good at this," which usually turned in to, "if I don't get good at running, I'll never be in shape." That line undoubtedly spun in to, "and if I'm never in shape I'll clearly never get married." From there, my thoughts rapidly escalated to, "if I never get married, I'll be such a disappointment to my family and culture. And if I never get married I'll never have kids and I'll never fulfill my womanly duty to be a mother. Why am I even on a mission? Maybe we are struggling to find people to teach in this area because I'm not pretty enough. I bet attractive missionaries have more success. That's the real reason why we have to run this 5K. We're supposed to be getting into better shape so we can be more beautiful and find people to teach. Why is my companion such a fast runner; she is literally a gazelle. A GAZELLE. MAYBE AN ANTELOPE. I DON'T KNOW. I'm so slow and she has got to hate me for slowing her down. I wish I could just fall on a cactus and break my leg so I wouldn't have to run anymore and be a hindrance to my companion. Why aren't there any cacti on our running route? I would probably be a hindrance to a husband too. I mean, I'm 23 and on a mission. Man, my breathing sounds like an angry walrus gasping for air. Maybe Heavenly Father sent me on a mission as a form of busy work, since I have approximately 60 more years of unmarried life ahead of me. Well, probably only 40 since I'm bad at running so my heart will give out." And on and on an on, for an hour and a half
every single morning.
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| Me when I was angry about running. GRRRRRR. |
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| My companion during her morning run. |
Maybe I'm a little dramatic. I know. But c'mon...it was running! Without Selena Gomez!
When it got to the point that I couldn't sleep at night because I was dreading waking up in the morning because I knew I would have to run, and subsequently spend an hour and a half with my own brain, I decided something needed to change.
As missionaries, we reference the scripture Ether 12:27 frequently. It reads,
"And if men come unto me I will show unto them their
weakness [RUNNING]. I give unto men weakness that
they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all
men that humble themselves before me; for if they
humble themselves before me, and have faith in me,
then will I make weak things become strong unto them."
(emphasis and angry color choice added)
Running is definitely a weakness of mine, but I realized that my bigger weaknesses were pride and doubt. I felt that running was such a trivial thing that I couldn't pray and ask for help because Heavenly Father didn't want to hear about my physical activity woes. After I humbled myself and knew that the only way I was going to get myself out of bed morning after morning was with a lot of divine help, I went to my knees and my thoughts changed. Did I really believe that I'll never get married? No. But it is still my biggest fear, and Satan plays on our fears. When I acknowledged that I was allowing Satan to be my running partner every morning it made it far easier to change my attitude and perspective. The only true statement in my angry stream of consciousness was that my companion is literally a gazelle. I can get in shape in a thousand different ways that aren't running. I can get married without being a model (or a gazelle). I will have children at some point in eternity, because I have been promised that. I don't really want to break my leg; that would be awful. I will most likely live beyond the age of 63. Most importantly, Heavenly Father didn't call me on a mission to kill time while he came up with something else for me to do. We're never asked to do something to just occupy our time.
I was so upset at myself for letting Satan rule my thoughts and guide the opinions I had of myself. I should have known better than to let him diminish my self worth and divine nature. But that's why he's so good at what he does, he's sneaky. With a lot of prayer and a conscious effort to think of happy (or at least neutral) things while I ran, my weaknesses became stronger. When I can't think of anything positive while I'm running, I count. It's not necessarily uplifting, but it keeps my mind occupied, and eventually I find that my mind has wandered somewhere else more positive. I often think about what Heavenly Father or Jesus Christ would tell me if they were running beside me. I'm sure they wouldn't judge my slow progress, in fact, they would likely commend me for building myself up to the point that I can almost run a mile without stopping. As I pray each night and in the morning I ask for the strength to push myself a little harder and for the mental endurance to keep my thoughts positive. AND IT WORKS. Every single day that I depend on the Lord, He makes it possible for me to do something I hate. More impressive than my running triumphs, is the progress I've made in turning my doubt to faith and my pride to humility.
I can testify that the Lord will truly help us along our paths if we seek His assistance. We can expect immediate assistance and gradual growth.
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| Maybe I will look like this down the road when I am 100% better at running. Except I would never wear a red head band with a pink sweater. So maybe that will just be my running aura. |
