New River 100K Recap: The Perfect Storm

 

There are many moments during the New River 100K in Fries Virginia my stomach had the loudest voice. If my stomach was the author of  this post it would be all together different! 

The 100K runners started at 4AM in the dark, a small group of about 15-17 runners. The course was flat and simple, simple enough that even I didn't get lost, or math wrong! 

My plan was clear: run the first 20 miles at a sub-11-minute pace. Faster than I wanted, but with the heat coming in full force by 11AM, I needed to bank miles before the sun had its way....and it would. 

For most of those early miles, I tucked in behind one runner, stopped only a couple of times for quick bathroom breaks off the trail. At the first turnaround, I counted nine runners ahead of me and between 5-7 behind me. 

It was in those early miles, under a sky lit only of headlamps, that I first felt the nausea creep in. It was mostly from my handheld dancing across the blackened sky my stomach turned. I made the decision to run with my light off, hoping the guy in front of me would have enough light I could follow. 

I did manage to trip 2 times even on a rail to trail. 

After the first 15 miles you take a turn on a leg of the course I would run 4 times, accumulating about 40 miles. It would be here on this stretch I would meet Patrick and his daughter manning an aid station. Without a cloud in the sky, I was heating up and kindly asked if I could dump my hydration pack off in a chair and pick it back up on my fourth leg out of the section, and he enthusiastically said "YEAH"!

I swapped out my tee-shirt for a tank top I had stashed in the back of my Salomon pack and headed down that stretch. 

It was also at one of those aid stations that I made a critical MISTAKE, I filled my handheld bottle with Tailwind. My bellies sworn enemy! 

I had already been struggling with the taste of the water on the course, but the Tailwind immediately flipped my stomach inside out and brought back vivid memories of Sulphur Springs, where I was sick for hours because of it. I tried to convince myself the calories would help me in the heat, but my body wasn't interested in that logic. 

Still, I kept moving. 

Coming through those aid stations, I made a point to bring smiles, even if they only came from my tank and hat! Seeing my friends running the 50K along the out-and-back sections reminded me I wasn't alone in the struggle. The heat was getting to all of us. 

The plan was to gradually slow: sub-11's for the first 20 miles, then adding 30seconds per mile to every 20 miles. I felt completely married to my watch, but it was my only running buddy I had out there. 

Somewhere in all this I decided to investigate an irritated spot on my belly, only to discover my skirt was on backwards! I had been running with my running skirt on backwards for over 40 miles! Not the first time I have done this. At that point, fixing it felt pointless, that would be a problem for later. 

By my final visit to Patrick's station, my skin felt like it was on fire, and I was dry heaving at the sight of food. I had already taken a five-minute break at a previous aid station, sitting in the grass just trying to regroup. At this point, another runner and I were leapfrogging each other, both of us looking equally green. 

I asked Patrick if he was going back to the finish line and when he said "YES", I asked if he would be willing to take my pack and tee-shirt back with him. The thought of another layer on my already roasted body seemed unbearable. 

Then came the low point. 

I only had about 15 miles to go. The runner I had been trading places with was sipping Coke while I was dry heaving. I tried to leave but my body shut down. I collapsed in the grass retching and vomiting bile. He looked my way and said, "Hope you feel better." and slowly disappeared down the trail.

Patrick stepped in again, ice in my hat, a cold rag around my neck, doing everything he could to cool me down. I just leaned into the grass wanting it to swallow me and closed my eyes. I laid there for about 5 minutes, fell asleep with prayers and a calmness. When I got back up, he handed me a half a banana, and somehow, I got moving again, catching up to the runner and even passing him one final time. 

I felt terrible because I knew he was struggling the same as me. The sun was scorching, and our wheels were coming off. 

I wouldn't throw up again until the finish line. 

From there, my pace slowed, my body temperature climbed, but somehow...I kept passing people. I knew the distance was over, 63.5 miles, and I knew I still had work to do. 

With about 4 miles to go, 2 bikers passed me shouting, "Hey, there's a bunch of girls waiting for you at the finish!"

That changed everything!

Knowing that my 13 girls were there gave me just enough push! There were no runners around me anymore and hadn't been for miles. Just me, the heat, a hefty breeze now, and a very unhappy stomach, but I still managed to run just with a lot more walking. 

And then I heard them.

Cowbells. Cheers. My clan! Lake Effect Legends, that's what we called ourselves. 

I was able to run it in, smiling for the photos, holding it together just long enough until I crossed the finish line.

12 hours and 34 minutes. 

And then PROMPTLY laid back in the grass while my body reminded me what it had just been through, sharing its final protest.  

I managed to finish 2nd place female. It was a small field, yes, but that didn't take away from what it meant to me. 

I didn't quit; I didn't give up. 

I am learning that I can run through nausea, through discomfort, through the things that don't go according to plan. 

Between the morning nausea from my handheld, the tailwind, wardrobe issues, the heat and cloudless sky, and the hours of running green it was a perfect storm. 

IN Closing, I am so proud of all 13 women who showed up and ran. EACH one has her own story, her own grit, and each one gave me something I carried with me through those 63.5 miles. 

The race was a front-row seat to the FAITHFULNESS of God.

He carried me when my body couldn't. 

He sustained me when I had nothing left. 

And crossing the finish line wasn't the END....

It was the BEGINNING of what's ahead for Western States! 

He's Not finished with ME Yet!!

In Peace, Not Pieces,

Anita

A Life Apology, Running back to Grace

 

Often times on my way home from church I am in deep thought mode. On my way home, I called Andy and he came beside me in my thoughts. The ladies at church had asked me a couple questions about how I get through the quiet battles...

I had tried to answer but my heart was weeping. I couldn't grasp the words; afraid I was going to unravel at the next breath. 

I was processing these moments with Andy. 

Childhood moments and what stays with us as we grow. 

We talked about my mother. Andy actually did most of the talking, and it was gentle and kind. 

It is hard to watch my parents die to addiction. But what I remember most wasn't just the struggle; it was her remorse. My mom lived in a constant posture of apology. 

Always trying again, and again and again. 

Always wanting to do better. 

Always reaching for forgiveness, for love, for grace, for another chance. 

Off the wagon riddled in shame and regret. 

As a child, I watched the cycle, I was not very forgiving. Her slipping, falling, fighting, climbing and reaching back out of the abyss of addiction and chaos again. 

And it shaped me, molding me over and over again. Mostly after she was gone.

It taught me compassion in a way I don't think comfort ever could. 

Because when you witness someone so deeply aware of their brokenness, so desperate to make it right, you don't hold onto bitterness the same way. 

It is hard to harden your heart towards humility. 

Her life showed me that brokenness doesn't cancel love. And remorse, even when it repeats, still carries something sacred, it reveals a heart that hasn't given up. 

RUNDOWN:

I think about this sort of thing on my solo runs. Running, in its own way mirrors the same rhythm. 

We fall off pace. 

We miss runs.

We hit walls.

We question everything. And find us spiraling into self-deprecation. 

And yet, I fight the negative thoughts and lace up again. 

Not for anything but because I am still reaching. 

There's a quiet humility in showing up again after a hard run, a bad week, or a season when everything feels off and sometimes there is a season when you are OFF! Injury is always that season. But it is not about getting it right every time, as much as its about not Giving Up in the process. 

Growth isn't built on perfection; it is built on the return. And neither is grace. I sure wish I could have taught my mother that. 

Like FAITH. 

"The Lord's lovingkindness indeed never cease, For His compassions never fail. They are new every morning."  Lamentations 3:22-23

Not just for our best days but for our repeated bad ones too. The ones where we're still trying, still learning, and still returning. 

Maybe that is another lesson. Whether in faith or in running, we are not defined by how many times we fall, but by the grace that meets us when we rise again. 

Learning to apologize to yourself and learning to apologize to others is a beautiful act of humility. It is in that humility that grace has room to meet us and the strength to begin again is born. 

Marathon Highlights: Ashville Edition

• Mileage on Lock: 4 straight weeks of nailing my training
• Long run win: Turned a planned 30-miler into a full marathon
• Perfect set-up: Staying just 2.7 miles from the Ashville Marathon start line
• Cutting it close: Rolled in just as the marathon was starting, may have been the last one to cross the mat!
• Navigation Win: I didn't get lost running to the start!
• SURPRISE: Andy ran out and found me, jumped in and ran 7 miles w/me. 
• New Connection: Met a new marathoner, Ryan.
• Strong Finish: Encouraged him through the tough miles when he wanted to quit
• Breakthrough Moment: His first marathon-and he crushed his time by over 15 minutes
• MY TIME; 30 miles: 5:04 Marathon: 4:26:41
• Countdown is on: 2 weeks out from New River Trail marathon
• Weekly miles: 66
  
  
  

In Peace, Not Pieces,

Anita

Loyalties: Major on the Majors

Loyalty.

A strong and powerful word. A word said in the company of sentences like: 

"Where are your loyalties?"

"They are loyal to a default."

Loyalty carries a lot of weight. When people talk about loyalty, they usually mean commitment and dedication. 

Standing by someone.

Showing up.

Staying true.

But sometimes I think we miss the forest through the trees when it comes to loyalty. 

Sometimes we get so stuck on the idea of loyalty that we lose ourselves in it. We become obsessed with being loyal and don't see that we have become loyal to the wrong things, and in doing so we forget the things that actually deserve our loyalty. 

The wrong things are not necessarily "bad things", but we find that we don't always have a good outcome or we end up behaving bad to be loyal. 

I like to call this majoring on the minors. 

We stay committed to things that are small, temporary and honestly insignificant in the grand scheme of life. 

While sometimes we are loyal to BIG things, things or people of worth, but we lose ourselves in their cause. 

For me loyalty starts with my GOD, myself and my family. 

But sometimes we find ourselves giving our loyalty to things outside of that inner sacred circle-organizations, obligations, expectations, opinions and even passions. We give our loyalty to people outside our intimate circle finding our inner circle suffering.

Before we realize it, we've sacrificed our peace, our relationships, and even pieces of ourselves trying to remain loyal to things that make a difference on this side of heaven. 

True loyalty should never cost us the very thing it was meant to protect. 

THE RUNDOWN

LOYALTY. How it collides with my life right now. I have been asked to step into some big roles with the ladies at church and my training program has made a big turn into the land of "grit." 

I have wrapped myself up tighter, isolated a bit more to protect my loyalties. 

Majoring on the majors. 

Loyalty has to show up in my miles. Running has a funny way of exposing what you are loyal to. It is easy to be loyal when the sun is shining, the legs feel good (I don't even know what good feels like anymore) and the miles click effortlessly. But loyalty shows up on hard days. 

Like this last weekend when I had 2 back-to-back 25-mile training runs, I had to prepare for a 10-minute teaching in Romans and teach it with feedback from the elders at church and another 20-ish other people. As well as prepare for my teaching this Tuesday for our ladies' ministry. 

MY HEAD WAS SPINNING. 

The weather was less than stellar, and I couldn't start one of my runs until after my teaching at 1pm. 

Yeah, loyalty shows up on the hard days, the windy days, the busy days etc....

TRAINING requires loyalty. 

Loyalty to the PLAN, the PROCESS, and loyalty to showing up when no one is watching. 

But here's the thing I have learned: running loyalty rarely happens alone. 

THIS WEEKEND PROVED THAT.

Alecia and Julie rolled in at 1pm for my first 25-mile-long run. ONE o'clock. Not the normal, civilized runner hour. And even when their bodies were failing, they didn't quit back to the car- maybe back to the bathroom or the ditch, but they never quit! And even Andy came out to save me for my last 5 miles to bring me in. 

Then SUNDAY, Christina was ready and waiting to grit out another 25 miles with me Sunday. And Pam and Lynn jumped in for the second loop of 12 miles, topping their milage to bring Christina and I in. 

And that second loop is really special. That's the one everyone smells questionable, conversations are getting quirky, or I am, and nobody is sure if their legs are still attached.  

THIS is being loyal to the run, and to one another. 

Sometimes the greatest reminder of God's faithfulness isn't found at the finish line...

It is found in the people He sends to run the road beside you. 

"Individual commitment to a group effort-that is what makes team work." Vince Lombardi

In Peace, Not Pieces,

ANITA

When the Bar is Low

 

Life does not have to be perfect, to find some gratitude. 

With my hands reaching high, my eyes closed to my surroundings, my heart wide open-tears streaming down my face-I sang. 

A voice untamed and shaky lyrics pressed deep into my wounds. My posture upright but my soul humble in awe.

The words were caressing my soul:

"Anita, how did we make it out, the bar was so low..." 

My big brother calls me, and we hold these deep, intimate conversations about healing and grace, the grace only the Lord can give. We laugh.

We cry. 

But we always give God the glory.  

The grace that redeemed orphaned siblings. The grace that protected the little dirty "ragamuffins" that no one wanted.

Nobody wanted my brother and me. 

But God. 

The Lord never let us go. He had a plan and a purpose for us. 

He is the "Father to the fatherless". Psalm 68:5

Some days I long for my parents. 

I grieve memories that never existed. 

Beautiful people with a terrible addiction. 

Oh, the pain of addiction, of abandonment. 

The pain of being traded in for a case of beer, a bottle of pills, the pain of being discarded for love, for getting high, or getting numb. 

OH, But the BEAUTY. 

The Lord had a plan and a purpose for it all.

The Lord called me by name.

He held me in His arms, protecting me. 

He was forgiving me for so many ugly things I did from that wounded heart. 

The days that death washed over me, the depths of darkness, He pulled me out and strengthened me through those blackened nights. 

Because there is JOY IN THE MORNING. 

"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." Psalm 30:5

I just had to make it one more day. 

Sometimes, I see those scars on my arms and I feel my stomach turn inside out. 

He had a plan for me. 

The Lord is Father to the fatherless. 

He counseled me. 

He forgave me.

He equipped me.

He LOVED me when I couldn't love myself. 

He taught me to not GIVE UP even when everyone gave up on me. 

RUNDOWN:

My running is a biproduct of my survival story. To survive I had to learn to persevere. I had to learn to not give up or give in. 

I had to learn this thing called GRACE. 

I had to learn how to climb the mountain.

 BUT when I reached the top....I had to learn something harder-to look BACK over the path I climbed.  

The path climbed in humility, and without bitterness. 

The climb, the terrain, the wilderness, the savage predators, the wounds along the way were conquered. 

NOT because I was strong. 

Because the Lord never left me and never forsook me. 

"Though my father and mother forsook me, the Lord will receive me." Psalms 27:10

 Even when I FELT alone, abandoned and rejected.

The Lord prepared me all those painful years ago. 

Here I am. 

I am 5 weeks out from a 100K.

 12 weeks from Western States 100.

An EPIC Dream, I thought for sure was never going to happen just 9 weeks ago.

 

"Work like it depends on you but pray like it depends on the LORD."

But don't you dare give up. 

No matter how low the bar was set, no matter how impossible dreams look- life looks, don't GIVE UP. 

I got in 10 miles in Metamora this morning. Sarah and I hit the backroads in horse-country, hill terrain. She dragged me up those hills, and I chased her heels a lot faster than I expected to. I think the training is actually working! And the healing! 

Speaking of chasing, that's what my brother and I do, a lot different than we did when we were kids. Today we chase each other with encouragement and the Word. We chase each other towards healing, grace, and the life God somehow carved out for us in a world that didn't expect much from us. 

The bar may have been set low.

But GOD was quietly building endurance. 

IN Peace, 

Not Pieces,

ANITA~

Me, Bobby, Gina. 
When we were in foster homes, my sister was the youngest, she was so adorable and smaller. A couple fell in love with her and wanted to adopt her. 
That's another story. 

Shadows

 "Experience is the hardest kind of teacher. It gives you the test first and the lesson afterward." Oscar Wilde

They are everywhere. 

Some I try to make friends with and some I try to out run, out hide...out wit.

Some I can shake off and some are relentless, lurking, searching, and chasing me down.

Some I can't live without and some come and go.

Saturday, I was on a long run. They came after me before my run, and ran like a monkey on my back during. 

But I discovered I am not alone. 

Somewhere on the backroads we ran. I felt them on my heels as I tried to get distracted by the voice of another. The stories of another. 

A detour from self I engaged in another. 

She spoke of deep hurt. The kind of hurt that wraps you so tight the breath in your lungs escapes you. 

The sort of affliction that grabs your voice and you tremble. 

The soreness in your heart that your eyes weep without knowing. 

I saw her tears resting on her cheek even after the mile we ran. 

I also felt them. 

Shadows

The shadows of yesterday.

The painful phantoms of heartache.

They show up in words, in memories, in moments, in failures and even in fabrications. We live with them and some we can't live without. We love them and we hate them. 

They grasped me somewhere on the backroads alongside her. Gently, they held me as they opened my heart up. 

THE RUNDOWN:

 "No, dear brothers and sisters, I have not achieved it, but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead. I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us." Phil. 3:13-14

What are we listening to? What are we exploring? 

Shadows can be the words that we hear. The moments we retrieve. Some haunt us. I hear the words said and unsaid and if not managed they will hurt me and hold me back from the calling the Lord has on me. 

And have. 

Before I started my run I was weighed down by the shadows of fear. I was having a party of all the ugly. 

I prayed for the Lord to guide me through the ugly that was afraid of the BACK to BACK runs. 

I recovered in confidence collecting all the victories the Lord had given me. 

Saturday 25miles

Sunday 20miles

And I had to JUST DO IT. Forward is FORWARD. It's releasing what is behind, mistakes, setbacks, even past victories can trip you up, but PRESS ON. 

Shadows only exist because there is LIGHT. The Lord is my Light. My Hope. My Forward.

Because I feel moving FORWARD the shadows fall behind me! 

I do not have to fight every shadow; I just have to keep walking in the LIGHT. 

SPEAKING OF LIGHT....

Hal Koerner said 69 miles for the week. 

The SUN showed up. My friends showed up. 71 Miles for the week! 

Nailed the B2B.

Sunshine therapy, laughter and strong women. Let's GO 100K in APRIL!! 

GLORY TO GOD!!!

In Peace, Not Pieces,

Anita

Holy Grit or Hidden Pride? Exposed.

"Training is not about torturing yourself, it is about having fun." Lornah Kipagat

Things are coming together. As tragic as it is being injured there is really a place for it. The very human part of me does not initially look at setbacks with grace and acceptance. I have to settle into it. I go through all the stages of GRIEF. Because it is literally like a loss. 

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross: Stages of GRIEF

1: DENIAL

Grief: "This really isn't happening..." 

Injury Version: It's just sore, I can run through it. 

Denial protects you at first, protecting you from the punch. 

2. ANGER

Grief: " Why is this happening to me?

Injury Version: "I am so frustrated, no one else seems to get injured..."

Anger shows how much you care, your passion. 

3. BARGAINING

Grief: "If I do/don't do this...Maybe it will be better."

Injury Version: "I'll bring down my miles, skip speed work and get better at stretching and rolling..."

We try to control what is uncontrollable. 

4. DEPRESSION

Grief: "This really hurts..." 

Injury Version: "Will I ever get better, maybe this is the beginning of the end..." 

This stage was me all of January, this was heavy and dark. Running does NOT define me, however, it is a sacred outlet for therapy, prayer and a rhythm of peace and comfort. 

5. ACCEPTANCE

Grief: This is what it is. Now What? 

Injury Version:  "If this is the Lords will, I ask for peace.  Healing is training too." 

Acceptance doesn't mean I am in happy with my current circumstance, but it means I am down trying to maneuver my way out of it. I am done fighting truth and I am ready to listen to a voice bigger than my own. 

STUBBURNESS: Exposed

When I finally owned my position of injury, when I accepted, I was part of the problem as well, things started to soften. I was NOT just a victim; I was also a contributor. 

Epiphanies were sprouting. 

Sometimes STUBBURNESS can be our advocate and sometimes it can be our enemy. 

Sometimes it is GRIT.

Sometimes it is RESILIENCE.

Sometimes it is the holy refusal to quit. 

BUT sometimes it is EGO dressed up as perseverance stamina and strength. .

I have actually caught myself bragging about how stubborn I am and until recently I have discovered that I have invited stubbornness to actually hurt me. 

Stubbornness is a form of EGO. 

What is beneath stubbornness: CONTROL. 

Stubbornness says I WILL. 

FAITH says: THY WILL. 

In my stubbornness I wasn't fighting injury, I was fighting SURRENDER. 

A hard and stubborn heart makes us unteachable. When I refused to listen to my body I also was not allowing the Lord to speak into me. 

I wasn't being tough, I was being PROUD. 

And PRIDE invites consequences. It hurts in many ways. For me, it injury my body. But it can injury your relationship with the Lord and with others. 

Being stubborn is not a badge of honor. Stubbornness without surrender becomes SELF-RELIANCE.

The Lord doesn't need my grit. 

He desires my OBEDIENCE. 

That's a humble reminder I needed. 

STUBBURNESS says "I will do whatever it takes no matter what.." 

SURRENDER says "Die to self, I trust YOU Lord."

Stubbornness can look holy.

It can sound like grit.

It can even feel like strength. 

But stubbornness without humility becomes resistance to correction and does not allow the Holy Spirit to speak to you. You deny access for the Holy Spirit to counsel you. 

One of my ongoing prayers is asking the Lord to "Take this stony heart and give me a heart of flesh." 

THE RUNDOWN:

Feb 9-Feb15th- 67.71 miles

I hit my miles for the first time!! 

Saturday: 22 miles (1/2 marathon trail at the tail end of milage

Sunday: 10 miles 1/2 snowy trails

Monday: BEST RUN yet, 12 miles of Hill repeats, NO pain and a 9:20min/mi. with over 1000ft of elevation gain. 

Still doing all my strength work 5 days a week. 

When I look honestly at my injury, I see places where I didn't just persevere, I insisted. 

And insisting is a whisper of PRIDE. The injury didn't create stubbornness, It REVEALED it! 

And once revealed, I had a choice:

DEFEND it and Die on that Mountain.

Or SURRENDER it. Let it go and seek the Lord in obedience. 

Not MY Will 

but THY WILL. 

Healing begins to happen in softening soil. 

 

THIS WEEK wasn't strong because I pushed harder. Honestly, when it came to the race, we were the last to cross the starting mats and some of the last to cross the finish mats too! It was strong because I listened to surrender. And maybe that's the kind of stubbornness worth keeping: the kind that is stubborn about obedience not EGO. 

Special THANK YOU to RUNNIN GEAR! I lost one shoe of my new shoes I purchased in January from Runnin Gear and they gave me a brand new pair, and a JESUS. 

If you need shoes, walking, running or gear, they will take great care of you. 

In Peace, Not Pieces, 

Anita

Forward is still Forward

 

From Crawling to running, there is PROGRESS! 

I am on track with my training, but not because I powered through... Apparently, I am not good at reading a training plan, I mistakenly calculated a week wrong in my favor! 

I spent way too much time staring at the plan, the calendar and counting weeks. I was erasing, rewriting, revisiting and feeling like my brains were about to explode in confusion. Confusion turned to disbelief then disbelief turned to joy. 

"You are going to be fine in 4 weeks..." I heard echoing from each professional I saw and as I recalibrated my plan I was grinning with gratitude. I wanted to hand out high fives to all of them at that moment. 

More than that, I am standing in humble posture, recognizing that the Lord is restoring me, slowly, in His timing, intentionally, and far better than I would have scripted. 

I am choosing to honor the slow healing with encouragement for the little things. The little things are adding up one mile at a time. 

This Weekend Proved That

I got my long run in: 19 miles Saturday, 12 miles Sunday, and I started this week with 13 trail miles. My body held together better than duct tape. I held my thoughts captive convincing myself of positivity and self-discipline.  Every mile I wanted to dance as much as I was running to celebrate! 

 THE LONG RUN: Two stupid things in one day!

Saturdays long run had a deadline because I was scheduled for a 1pm Polar Plunge supporting Special Olympics. I wanted 19-20 miles before I jumped in the icy lake I showed up early at the Moose Lodge to start my run and a friend would join me in the stupid decisions for the back half of my run and the plunge. 

It was 19', the roads barely had a shoulder to run, and the sky was bright blue, but the cold was bitter. But somehow the cocktail worked, I ran rather comfortable. I was mostly excited that I made it through 19 outdoor miles without freezing or getting hit by a car. 

So, the outdoor miles and jumping in a lake wearing a bright orange TUTU might not be on most people's list for the day, or maybe even lifetime but I was actually secretly excited about both of them. 

And the Polar Plunge had crazy energy and hype. And if I am being honest, it was actually a lot of fun and I didn't die. The water was over my head, but it was actually WARMER than the outdoor air! 

I got to run all over again the next day at Indian Springs with 7 incredible women. Most of them are like me, over 50 and still trying to compete with our younger selves. We laughed, encouraged one another, listened, cut up and just enjoyed playing outside together. 

RUNDOWN:

"For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and self-control." 2 Timothy 1:7

MONDAY: The run I feared. 

Today was a run I had been avoiding for 2 weeks, TRAILS. 

I knew I had to get back on the trails, but I had a dozen excuses that I needed to combat. 

The trails at Holly Rec, Wilderness trail a rolling 6-mile loop. I had convinced myself it was going to be disaster. Funny how our minds hijack us into defeat before we even start.

I had to take several thoughts captive. Flip the script. Override the lies. Even at 52, with insecurities that try to settle in, I had to battle not to listen. 

"Take every thought captive to obey Christ..." 2 Cor. 10:5

I am who He says I am. 

And it couldn't have been more perfect. 13 miles. 6 with a friend, seven solo. Strong. Steady. Free. 

When my run becomes a crawl...Or when life becomes a crawl, we remind ourselves: 

FORWARD is still FORWARD. 

The Lord wants to do a work in us, but he also wants us to do some work also. I still have a lot of work to do, but I am so grateful He trusts me to do it. 

Slow healing. BIG joy. God is Faithful. Day by Day. Mile by Mile. 

Special THANK YOU to Sailfish Pools and Parkers Hilltop for generous donations. And thank you to ALL who donated to me for Special Olympics. 

In Peace, Not Pieces,

Anita