Last week I went jogging on my own for the first time in my life. No one dragged me along or encouraged me to go. I decided to go and I went. Now that might not seem like a big accomplishment at 29, but I haven't been this proud of myself in a long time. You see, I'm not a runner. I'm not naturally good nor do I really enjoy most forms of physical exercise or sport - I'd much rather read a book or do a math problem (nerd-alert). Luckily, God knew I needed a husband who would push me out of my comfort zone. For the past five years, he has been motivating (sometimes dragging) me to at least do some form of exercise, which I have done with different degrees of willingness and commitment. It has always been with a sense of obligation though, never really because I enjoyed it.
So back to jogging. We moved to a new neighbourhood with lots of pedestrian paths in May, so we started jogging more often. The summer heat sent us back to the gym, though, so we only started back in our routine from September. I could gradually feel myself getting more fit - that traffic light I used to set as my goal, became my halfway mark; then the circle where I used to feel like passing out became another. So on Monday when my husband was out playing padel (look it up), I decided to go for a jog.
My new technique (that I invented all by myself) to jog for longer without walking, was to just keep looking at the pavement right in front of me. (I know, I should be a fitness coach.) I found that looking too far ahead just made me see how far I still had to go, and made me feel like I couldn't make it. Focusing on the pavement made me feel like I was making progress, and before I knew it I had already run the first kilometre. In my mind, I kept envisioning my end goal: getting back home, and enjoying a bottle full of cold water.
While jogging, I felt like the Holy Spirit was helping me to see the parallels between this approach and life. Sometimes looking too far ahead at what we still have to overcome or achieve or endure feels too overwhelming, and we don't know if we can make it. This is especially true in life, where the road ahead is not as familiar as my jogging route, but mostly unknown. Focusing on going one day at a time is often the only way we can keep moving forward - there is a reason Jeremiah says in Lamentations 3:22-23 that God's mercies are new every morning.
We should, however, always keep our end goal in mind. Like mine when jogging, ours is also getting back home. This home is much better, though: we get to spend eternity in God's presence, in a new world without sin or pain or death or suffering. In the words of Paul in Philippians 3:14: I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us.
So, have I now turned into a runner? No. But do I at least enjoy running? Also no.
But I do know that I am getting better every day, and I am not dreading it any more. Who knows, maybe soon I'll even be looking forward to it. It'll never beat solving a math problem, though.
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