Fantastic = Foolish: Running The Difference...

…because most of these posts begin because of conversations, huh?

          Person: So, what do you have planned this weekend?

          Me: Oh, just gonna run a 10K with a friend.

         Person: I don’t understand? Running seems so tough. But you seem happy about it.

          Me: It is. Quite frankly, running sucks. But, Medal Monday.

          Person: *confused*

          Me: I know. Me too.

It never fails. After every race, I really feel like I won. lol

Me too. I do not get it. I do not get why I will leave Church, feeling all saved, sanctified and submerged in the blood of the lamb that was slain, to change clothes in my car, to run The Dish.  It does not make much sense. And I do it willingly. With a smile on my face. Knowing that I am going to get a mile and a half into it and, look at my life and my choices, wishing my sassy gay friend had convinced me to go to the Mall; the outdoor Mall literally right down the street from this place. And, I will continue on, to the finish. Another day closer to another medal. And be satisfied.

Just like the aforementioned person with which I shared my weekend excitement, there are those, like um…unbelievers who will not understand the joy on my face at the opportunity to worship and praise when I hear a song about wanting to worship God, for the actual literal fear that a rock might cry out in my place. #NotHappenin #ImCompelledToTellYouDyingMenSomething Much like I have no shame in telling you about how much I love Jesus, I feel no shame in the smile on my face when I am regaling this world with tales of my latest medal and upcoming running event. #Oakland #RunLikeHellaWithMe

And if you are not a runner, you will never comprehend the look on a runner's face when you say you purchased your running shoes at the Mall and not from a running store after a proper sizing. And if you are a non believer, you will never understand why a believer hastens to their secret place to Thank God when all seems to be right in their world. And it shouldn’t. ¹⁸For the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness; but unto us which are saved it is the power of God. #ICorinthians1

So you get a pass. I used to get one. I wasn’t always a believer. Or a believer that I could be a runner. Hell, or ever a writer?!

Like the first day I showed up at The Dish with T.M.A. She invited me to walk it with her after work one day. Graciously, she met me at the Palo Alto Caltrain Station, and fought through traffic #thankyougurl to get to this place where we would walk our troubles away.

As I made my way through the gate, I thought to myself, “Um...where is this dish thingie she was talking about? ...and why is this steep ass incline in the way of it?” But, I was a stranger wandering a foreign land, so I followed her lead. TMA was a Dish’r, and I was not. I had no idea why anyone in their right mind would want to walk up that thing, with no sign of a “dish” in site.

There is a long, steep, hard, paved path to the top. The path is marked with trees, squirrels and coyote warnings. You will hate your life and your choices along the way. You will curse the crazy day that left you no other recourse than to pound the inclining and declining pavement. Endure. Press on to that mark, for the prize – what awaits you at the top. The beauty of Palo Alto and every other thing there is to see from that place. Have you ever been to the top of The Dish? You can see the sky touch the top of a mountain while the wind blows the most healing breeze. The traffic of I-280 even looks majestic from that place. There are those who will never be able to gain admittance to grandeur that is Stanford University. But from the Dish, you can see it for what it is – a small plot of land surrounded by an entire world to experience. And all Dish’rs know this. And because they know this, they suffer – because it is worth it. “It’s soooo worth it.”

That is what I feel at the Start of every race. The pain, soreness, exhaustion, eventual dehydration that lies between that place and the Finish. The fear of potential injury. The desperation of wanting to be faster than I was the last time. The doubt that I "might don’t" make it. But I know what it feels like to finish. To get that medal, place it around my neck, and realize that yet when the road seemed too much to endure, I did it.  

It’s totally okay that you’re confused. I’m going to keep running, and asking you to take #MedalMonday pictures with me. You'll figure it out, eventually. And what was once Foolish, will begin to equal the most Fantastic thing you ever did. Like trying Jesus. . .