The Long Run
I'm speaking metaphorically and literally. If you've ever run a marathon, you have completed a very long run. If you've run more than one, you have an even deeper understanding.
I have never run a long distance in my life. I had to run a mile in gym class when I was fourteen. It was awful. I almost threw up at the end. I felt terrible and I vowed that I would never run again.
My husband has run two marathons, since I've known him. During the last one, he was unhappy with his time. He wanted to break four hours. He came very close, but not close enough. He was disappointed, but I was elated. I had watched him train, in rain or sun. I knew how hard he was working, as I sat on the couch or went out with friends. Everything he ate was immediately burned for fuel. He was at his ideal weight. He bought fabulous clothes. He was amazing.
I wasn't. I was overweight and lazy. I worked out with him, for a few months and started to feel better. I bought new clothes and felt pretty. That was fun. Then, I started feeling bad. I started experiencing pain. I quit. I gained about thirty pounds in a year. I was fat for my wedding.
I tried on my wedding dress today. It didn't zip all the way up, but it was a lot closer than I thought it would be. It will zip, when I lose a couple more inches off my chest. It's happening. In a year, it will be too big. It will fall off. That's okay. I'm not going to wear it again, anyway.
This is what it means to work on something for a lifetime. It isn't a few months of hard work followed by a year of slacking. It's a daily, hourly commitment to do better than yesterday. I only have to compete with myself. I only have to beat yesterday's time. I'm not going to be a runner, but next week I will have the all- clear to get back in the pool. I will swim until I'm tired. I won't hurt myself, because I have to be careful, after having major surgery. I will start slowly and pace myself.
That's what long distance runners do. That's what lawyers, doctors, professionals military people and PARENTS do. It suddenly dawned on me that I've already entered a very long run. When I decided to become a mother, I entered into the longest contract on the planet. Being a parent is a lifetime commitment. It doesn't end when your children grow up and move out. It changes, but it doesn't end. It won't end until the day I die. However, when I die, that's only one end of the deal. My boys will keep going. They will remember how they were loved. They will remember what they've been taught. They will pick up the torch, pace themselves and head for the finish line. Sometimes they will run fast. Other times, they'll have to slow down. Sometimes they might even get turned around or lost along the way.
I know I have. I've been lost. It's not fun, but it's a necessary part of this process of living. It isn't the end. It's just a temporary state. We find our way back to our path, or we change course, but we KEEP MOVING FORWARD. It doesn't matter if someone gets further faster. It only matters that we each keep going, at our own pace.
I have never run a long distance in my life. I had to run a mile in gym class when I was fourteen. It was awful. I almost threw up at the end. I felt terrible and I vowed that I would never run again.
My husband has run two marathons, since I've known him. During the last one, he was unhappy with his time. He wanted to break four hours. He came very close, but not close enough. He was disappointed, but I was elated. I had watched him train, in rain or sun. I knew how hard he was working, as I sat on the couch or went out with friends. Everything he ate was immediately burned for fuel. He was at his ideal weight. He bought fabulous clothes. He was amazing.
I wasn't. I was overweight and lazy. I worked out with him, for a few months and started to feel better. I bought new clothes and felt pretty. That was fun. Then, I started feeling bad. I started experiencing pain. I quit. I gained about thirty pounds in a year. I was fat for my wedding.
I tried on my wedding dress today. It didn't zip all the way up, but it was a lot closer than I thought it would be. It will zip, when I lose a couple more inches off my chest. It's happening. In a year, it will be too big. It will fall off. That's okay. I'm not going to wear it again, anyway.
This is what it means to work on something for a lifetime. It isn't a few months of hard work followed by a year of slacking. It's a daily, hourly commitment to do better than yesterday. I only have to compete with myself. I only have to beat yesterday's time. I'm not going to be a runner, but next week I will have the all- clear to get back in the pool. I will swim until I'm tired. I won't hurt myself, because I have to be careful, after having major surgery. I will start slowly and pace myself.
That's what long distance runners do. That's what lawyers, doctors, professionals military people and PARENTS do. It suddenly dawned on me that I've already entered a very long run. When I decided to become a mother, I entered into the longest contract on the planet. Being a parent is a lifetime commitment. It doesn't end when your children grow up and move out. It changes, but it doesn't end. It won't end until the day I die. However, when I die, that's only one end of the deal. My boys will keep going. They will remember how they were loved. They will remember what they've been taught. They will pick up the torch, pace themselves and head for the finish line. Sometimes they will run fast. Other times, they'll have to slow down. Sometimes they might even get turned around or lost along the way.
I know I have. I've been lost. It's not fun, but it's a necessary part of this process of living. It isn't the end. It's just a temporary state. We find our way back to our path, or we change course, but we KEEP MOVING FORWARD. It doesn't matter if someone gets further faster. It only matters that we each keep going, at our own pace.
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