Monday, January 24, 2011

The Marathon That Is My Marathon

Ha! Didn't I warn you there was a part two? An extenuation of the roller-coaster that is my life?! So yes, it's almost the end of January, and Wade finally (repeat for emphasis: FINALLY) made it to his physical last Friday. I will save all the gory details for the official report now filed in Raleigh, North Carolina. Suffice it to say, it has not been the Pelham Road Recruiting Office's finest hour. But I digress . . .

As December began, a couple of things happened. First of all, Wade's chances of active duty enlistment seemed to fade. Six weeks later, it's all a possibility again. What a ride.

The second bit of excitement was subtle, yet effectual. I developed either IT band syndrome (tendon that runs from the knee to outer thigh) or common runner's knee. I am still not entirely sure which. December 3rd, I was doing a simple six mile run, and by the end of the third mile, I was running through excruciating pain in my left knee. Typical of me, I pushed through the pain, but as I gimped down the track steps to my car, it was clear to me that I was done running for the week. Early the next week, I visited the chiropractor. Sure enough, my femur was out of place, so I got a painful relocation for my trouble and gave the knee a rest for most of the week.

The next Monday, I tried to run again and didn't make it a half mile. My saving grace? I could still walk—FAST. For some reason, power walking didn't bother my knee at all, and I could still clock a twelve minute mile at the track by transforming myself into Nordic-track woman. I simply now had a decision to make about my mind set. What was my attitude going to be? I could still finish this half-marathon; I would just have to finish it walking. After putting in more than 150 training miles, this was more than a little disappointing, but it was still FINISHING.

I'm finding that a lot of the lessons of my marathon seem to translate into real life. This whole situation with the military has morphed into something we really didn't expect, but we still control the decision about what our attitude will be as we meet each new challenge. My husband and I agree that we have never felt so blind going into a New Year, as we have felt this year. We have no idea whether things will work out with the military or not. If it doesn't, we don't know what the alternate plan will be. We don't know if we'll be here, or if we'll move. We're also learning to care for a child with epilepsy.

Newsflash: Life is a marathon. It's an endurance race. It's planning, so you're strong to meet what's not planned head-on. It's being faithful in the little things, so the long days don't catch you totally off guard. It's forgetting to be disgusted that you had to get up early, because you're caught up in the beauty of the sunrise. It's laughing when you lose track of what lap you're on. It's asking your coaches for help when the obstacles seem to great. It's trusting God when you're absolutely at a loss. It's being human, or else, you just don't qualify.

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