It's official -- I've been running for almost a week and I'm already blogging about it. Because I'm lame like that.
I'm not really sure what started this current running stint. I'm usually a biker (the sit at home on your stationary bike and remain mostly stationary type).
My Boy is a runner. 2 years ago I set out to prove I could be a runner too. I started out full-pace with him one night. After 2 miles my legs gave out, my fingers ballooned, and I spent the next 3 days in bed.
I am not a runner.
And yet I've found myself every morning this week, in the 5:30 darkness, leading the way as he drops his pace for me. I crave these times. Not the darkness. Not the gasping for air as I watch HIM move along effortlessly.
I crave his presence. His conversation. His smile.
Jesus, let me run with You today. Let me crave Your presence. Your conversation. Your smile.
Let me know that it's not about how fast we get there.
Let me know it IS about the person with whom I'm running.
