"For I know my plans for you..."

Today was... how do you say... "not a good day." Then I went for a run. It was supposed to be 3 miles -- it ended up being 3 hours. I guess I had a few things to work out. When I started I had the weight of the world on my shoulders, and could feel it in every step. I was tired a mile in; with every stride I was convinced that my knee would finally pop or explode or detach. Can I really run a marathon? Is my body trained enough to do this? What happens if I have to quit halfway through?

I was the Chicken Little of the world tonight and I was sure the sky would be falling in a moment. I worried for friends, family, coworkers and myself. No topic was too small. It was more than thinking but less than praying: mostly just complaining I guess. Tossing out question after question in my head. But the weirdest thing happened during my run: I got a response. Not like audible voice, but a real response in a tone that I don't speak to myself in, and thoughts I don't think, and answers I didn't have.

Your identity is not tied to your job.

And that was something I needed to hear. It continued, and I'll paraphrase.

Your identity is not tied to your job, or what you do, or what you think defines you. Not your ideas, your plans, or your future. You are not the miles you run or your fundraising goal, or the books you read, the car you drive or the clothes you wear. You are not your friends. You're not what you did Friday night or Sunday morning. You are not defined by who you dated, the regrets you have, or what anyone thinks of you. You are my child.

And that's not a line that usually comes up in dialogue with myself.

I'm 5 miles away from home and choked up with a huge lump in my throat because it feels like somebody pretty important is whispering beautiful (liberating) truth into my mind. And the truth is the last week or so I've felt like a child, just sort of wandering through this new "real life" thing and looking for something to cling to. "A God sized hole..."

Does it matter if I keep running?
(laughter) No, not really.

Can I turn around now?
Sure.

If I keep running can You help?
Of course.

I tried to check my pace on my watch, but realized I must have bumped the stop button a few miles back. The numbers were the same as last time I checked, fourty minutes ago.

Good.

My stride got a little lighter, and it felt like less was riding on me than when I started. I was at liberty to let go - to look at God's creation, the moon reflecting off the lake through the trees.

I ran like a child: aimlessly and only until I got tired. And when I did, I didn't hesitate to turn around and go home. My best guess is that I went about 16 miles, but I don't know and don't really care.

Today was a great day.