Finding The Way

Recently, I had to quit running and not for a reason I expected. If you’re not a runner, you’re probably thinking “big deal” or have already lost complete interest. 😆 But stick with me! There’s something here for you.

If you’ve been following along, you probably know I’m pregnant with our second and have been running. I fully expected to need to quit running at some point in my pregnancy either due to baby getting bigger and it being too hard on my body or due to Iowa’s ruthless winter (I only run outdoors). However, my running abruptly ended for neither of those reasons. To fully understand the magnitude of quitting running, I need to tell you a little backstory first.

I started running in junior high because I thought I was fat. I believed a lot of lies from the devil and used running as punishment for my body and a way to manipulate my shape and size. However, no matter how much I ran or how my body changed, it never brought me peace or contentment. Through meeting Jesus and some counseling, I was able to put an end to that. I also quit running because aside from the endorphins rush, I thought it kind of sucked.

However, through high school and into the beginning of college, I felt God pressing me over and over again to get back to running. I didn’t want to and when I would try to be obedient, I found myself sinking back into those old habits of focusing on the way it made my body look. It probably took a year or more for me to shift my perspective from how running made me look to what running was actually doing for me.

Running made me strong; running helped me manage stress and anxiety; running empowered me and helped me realize I can do hard things I thought were impossible. God asked me to do something hard for my good and my benefit—physically and mentally.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago, I was still running in my second trimester of pregnancy. Between a special postpartum and now pregnancy workout guide I’ve been doing, seeing a physical therapist and chiropractor, and listening to my body, I’ve literally done everything in my power to make sure I have a safe, healthy, and hopefully easier pregnancy and postpartum than I did with Lucy.

Then my last run abruptly came at 24 weeks and 5 days. I had been feeling so good, I was hoping I could keep running until my third trimester or at least have the opportunity to slowly wean myself back and eventually switch to walking. But the end of week 24 into week 25 I found out I somehow have a hernia. This diagnosis came within the same week as losing a friend who was also someone Lucy was close to. Running is one of my tools for managing grief and stress, but that option was suddenly ripped out from under me.

Needing to stop and keep my feet up more was the last thing I wanted to do. I also felt like the physical pain somehow unlocked the emotional pain I had and I struggled to sit with it all.

During my prayer time one morning, I found myself remembering how I always tell Jesus He is enough for me and He is my everything. Yet I was struggling to lean into Jesus instead of searching for other ways to cope. Deep down I knew, even though I so desperately wanted to stay busy, I instead needed to sit and rest in Him.

Just like God gave me running as a tool, I know He will show me another way. He will use this as a time of refinement. In all honesty, I’ve already failed a few times. I’ve turned to food instead of Him when feeling anxious or sad. I’ve tried to carry it all and keep moving despite the physical and emotionally pain, usually with my family suffering the consequences. But He’s always there to help me back up as we try again.

If you are struggling through something right now and you’re finding yourself searching for ways to cope, my prayer for you (and for me) is that we can lean into Jesus. Saying Jesus is enough sounds so cliche it may even come off as not comforting to you, maybe not even helpful. However, I’ve found it’s the ultimate surrender in claiming and declaring He is enough that brings you closer to the heart of God and brings peace.