So I did it.

I clicked REGISTER FOR RACE.

I know. I’m NOT running like I used to and up until the first of the year I was pretty much eating whatever I wanted.  The last race I ran was 20 pounds and many, many cookies ago.

In the past I’ve run for personal fitness goals, to say I-can-do-this, or, in a few cases, to prove something to myself or others. I’ve run marathons and half-marathons before but it’s been awhile.

What motivated me to click REGISTER FOR RACE the first month of 2011? Is 2011 the get-back-in-shape year for Sarah? Maybe, but that’s not it. The reason is NOT a resolution. This time it’s different. I’m running for a cause.

I’m a crazy person I know! I can’t begin to list the things I’m working on, writing for, participating in this year. But. I. Love. This. Idea.

{The fact that I can barely run 2 miles right now should dissuade me but…}

We are running for Compassion!

If you aren’t familiar with Compassion International, they are committed to helping come alongside local churches all over the world in helping free children from the bondage that poverty brings. One of the best things about Compassion’s child sponsorship program is the regular correspondence between sponsor and child.

It really is beautiful.

And when I say WE, I really mean we. There will be an amazing team with some super-fun bloggers and influencers participating with us. Lindsey Nobles and I will be co-captaining one of the FIRST EVER Team Compassion groups. Our team is called Team San Diego. We will we be completing the San Diego Rock And Roll Half Marathon in San Diego, California on June 5, 2011, less than 5 months away.

Our team goal makes me sweat a little. And it’s not because of the training my out-of-shape rear end is undergoing. We are attempting to raise $20,000 for Compassion.

Let the sweating commence.

But in all truth, I believe this community can do this. I believe we can run. I believe we can raise money and I firmly believe that some small things we do will help release children from poverty in Jesus’ name. I believe this.

So I am asking you to help.

First of all, I’m inviting any and all of you to run with us. Join our team. Help raise money. Guys, girls. We already have a mixed group so come on! Some of us will run fast {not me}, some of us will run sort of fast {also not me}, some of us will jog {me} and some of us will run/walk.  {Details at bottom of post if you want to join}. You will have to get yourself to Southern California, arrange for your own accommodations and pay for the race yourself but you will be a part of an awesome team of friends and advocates for Compassion.

If you can’t join our team by running, consider joining us by supporting me or one of our other runners financially. Click here to donate. It’s super easy with the online donation site Compassion has set up.

If you cannot support us monetarily, please grab our banner and put it on your blog (email me at sarah at sarahmarkley dot com for the code).

And consider praying for us as we train for the next five months in preparation for our race and raise money for Compassion.

If you are in the San Diego area in June, PLEASE come down to cheer us on. We’d love it and we will absolutely need it.

If you want to learn more about Compassion, click here.

If you would like to donate, click here.

JOIN OUR TEAM!

1.     Register for the San Diego Rock and Roll Half Marathon on June 5. Click here and follow directions. You will have to pay for the race yourself and any travel or accommodation arrangements you might need to make.

2.     Once you’ve registered, click here to go to the Team Compassion site. Click JOIN TEAM and in the search field type in “Team San Diego”.  Once you’ve found our team, click JOIN and follow the directions. It will ask for your information {only the captains will see it} and will ask you to set a personal fundraising goal. You will set up your personal page that you will be able to share with friends and relatives and that you will be able to share as a link on Facebook and twitter.

THAT’S IT! Once you’ve entered your information under our team we will begin to send out team emails giving more information.

REMEMBER, register for the race very soon. It will sell out and the price continues to rise the closer we get to the event.

If you have questions, PLEASE email me (sarah at sarahmarkley dot com) and put “TEAM SAN DIEGO” in the subject field. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.

Special thanks to Kyle Reed for our graphic.

Can you help? Are you running or racing for a cause this spring? What motivates you to do it?

You are brave.

You can run that extra mile.

Take a drink of water. Breathe in the cool air this morning. Relax your fists and uncurl the toes in your running shoes and go. Finish. Run to your goal. You are braver than you think and the extra mile won’t kill you.

You can raise your children in this world.

Speak the truth into their ears over dinner, before bed and while they sleep. Be the strength in their lives. Fill their hearts with good things, kind words, teach them and discipline them. Then… let go. You can do it. You are braver than you think.

You can tell your story boldly.

Take out the pencil. Open the laptop. And write. Tell. Good things come out of opening your heart and your mouth. You feel alone, but you aren’t and at the same time you have something unique to say. Speak rightly and truly and with chosen words. Tell your story. You are braver than you think.

You are brave.

Watch.
I watch her watch the world. Her sister. The cat. With her three-year-old gaze, she watches the garbage truck and the school bus with intensity. She watches the letters on the signs and locates N’s where ever she goes. She has keen eyes for noticing detail. She watches far closer the world than I even seem to watch her. My eyes glaze over and I see only the big things, or the wrong things. She sees it all, or at the least, what is important.

Run.
She runs to the car, the park, the door when her father comes home. She runs laps around the living room five minutes before her bed time. And so many days I run to keep up with her… or I run right past her. I try to get everything done by running, and I miss her. Her running, unlike my own, is purposeful. Intentional. She has goals: a snack from the kitchen, a trip to the toilet, a trip down the slide. So often I run without meaning.

Rest.
This little one knows how to rest. When she’s tired, she asks to be picked up, lays her heavy forehead on my shoulder and sinks into me. She stops on the sofa and picks the softest pillow, drags her blankie down from her room and goes to sleep. I only rest when I can, at night, and even then I still work: making lists in my head for the next day as I drift off to sleep. I don’t rest like she does.

I have so much to learn.

I lost most of my running fitness last month.

Between my one visit to the gym at my writer’s conference and my sad attempts at running with a sinus infection while I was in England, by the end of April, I think I had only worked out a handful of times in the whole month.

At the beginning of last week I could only run a mile and a half before my lungs started to burn and my legs felt like weights. I thought I was having a bad day.

Two days later I tried again and I could barely get past a single mile without feeling the same. In March I had been pavement-pounding 4 – 6 miles a few times a week.

A trend, rather than a one-time occurrence. April had ruined me.

So I’m running again. With a friend who doesn’t mind my lack of fitness and is ready to slow down for me. Or by myself on a flat route (rather than the hilly roads near my house). And I’m taking it mile by mile, trying to build my endurance back up again.

On Saturday, we set out to run four miles. At the end of the first mile, we came to a stop light.

And it turned red.

My prayers had been answered. I would have the time length of the light to rest, allow my lungs to breathe, and stretch out my tight hamstrings. It was a forced (short) time of rest when I wasn’t allowed to cross the street and move forward.

I had to stop.

Now of course, I had to force myself to keep jogging again after the 20 second red light had turned green.

I find myself struggling so hard between “red lights” in my life, these natural times of quiet and rest. I look forward to them, I wait for them, and I can’t seem to focus on my “running” well when I’m waiting for the short respite coming up at the top of the hill.

Sometimes I wish for the short time each evening between my girls’ bedtime and my own, that I miss what is happening during story time or dinner. I look ahead to the rest and I miss the now. Or I wait for Saturdays that I miss what is happening on Wednesday and Thursdays. Sometimes I just shut my brain off when the girls are arguing and think about how I’m going to let my husband handle it when he gets home in a couple hours. I fail to be present because I’m waiting for the future.

Red lights are good and needed and natural, however, maybe I should just settle into the (difficult) running with a friend, talk with her, enjoy the morning and not worry so much about when I will allow myself to stop.

And then the running might just get easier.

I still hate treadmills.

Which is why I ran outside this morning, in my favorite canyon, through my favorite grove, and blazed a new trail (for me, anyway).

And just like my early morning treadmill appointments I’ll have later in the week, I somehow pushed myself further this morning than I normally would. All of my outside runs have different names in my head:

1. The Spider Run (in the spring big spiders like to spin their webs across my path): about 3.5 miles, first a downhill, a loop and then back up the hill.
2. The Rock (just like it sounds, I run up a hill to giant rock and then back down again): about 3 miles and really steep, which turns out to be more of a slight jiggle up the hill and then a too-fast slip down the gravel on the way back.
3. Rim Run (turn around at a street with “rim” in the name): 6 miles, 3 up and 3 down, pavement.

I couldn’t bring myself to do any of those this morning. So I made up a new one. I parked at the entrance to my favorite regional park and began on a trail I knew fairly well. The trails in this canyon branch off and then intersect again, so before today I had only been on a few of the main paths. I don’t like running new trails by myself. Fear: mountains lions and snakes, mostly.

Because I was unaware of what was around the corners and over the hills, I kept going forward (of course carrying two rocks so I could knock a mountain lion out if I had to). If I would have seen in the beginning all of the hills laid out in front of me (about 10 in all) I probably wouldn’t have tried. But because I could only focus on the path directly in front of me, I explored. And I was rewarded.

At least three new trails, I found and from these I made up one new challenging run. Up steep hills, down even steeper ones so that I ended up jogging the up and walking the down so I wouldn’t fall. Rocky Hill Run is my new name. Or even Mountain Biker’s Paradise would work.

Challenging myself isn’t easy. Sore muscles, tired ankles and lungs that are spent are my consequences right now. But the beauty of the quiet, the birds in the spring trees and the knowledge that I tried something new today made it worth it.

I hate treadmills.

I love running, but I hate treadmills. It’s something about the purposelessness of it: going in one direction as fast as I possibly can for close to an hour and then at the end of it all, never having moved one inch closer to the mirror I’m running in front of.

So I’ve pretty much avoided them altogether for the past six months. I’ve been running outside at least twice a week and taking fitness classes on the days in between, but my feet haven’t set foot on a treadmill for a long time.

Until last week.

My friend, trying to get back in shape after her third baby, has been working out every day at 5 am and invited me to meet her. And now I’m working out with her two days a week. She’s incredibly motivated (which is rubbing off on me) and needs me to keep her company during her cardio days. So I’ve been finding myself next to her on the treadmill, twice a week.

So I ran. Last week it was five mile runs (which were difficult), and this morning I pushed myself to six. I haven’t run six miles on a treadmill in at least a year.

I pushed myself. Its been a long time since I’ve pushed myself to do anything. Lately I’ve been relaxing into the I-don’t-feel-like-it mode with just about everything: eating, house cleaning, and exercise. I’ve been doing just what’s necessary and then not much more. I’m kind of sick of it. I want to feel like I’ve done my absolute best, run my absolute farthest and extended myself to the edge of what I am capable.

And I always find I’m capable of much more than I think.

So this is the week of doing my best. And trying my hardest. Starting today. Wednesday. And I’m going to get back up on that treadmill on Friday.

You?

I found a hillside meadow today. And the end of the road.

I would have never found it had I not turned off my familiar trail. And I would have never found it had I not struggled up an enormous hill.

If I’d have been too embarrased to ask for directions from a couple sitting on a bench, I would have missed it.

If I would have been too prideful to slow down to walk, then my heart would have missed it too.

I took the downhill path through the trees, the trail where I couldn’t see the end, but had to trust in the words of strangers that it would reconnect with the road.

It was longer than I’d judged, steeper than I’d thought was necessary, but the last two months of rain has done something amazing to the soil. It has made meadows where there was only dirt last fall.

Finding a new trail and a corner of peace in the shade of a cloudy morning and a downhill trek through a eucalyptus grove and knee-high meadow grass as green as summer reminded me that beauty is often hidden and wants to be seached out. And that the right road always reconnects, even if I can’t fathom how it will all turn out.

Fog can be blinding. It is comfortable and cool, but there is no depth of sight or experience. Everything that can be witnessed is close by and quiet.

I ran this morning, not early, after I was satisfied that my family was adequately fed with pancakes. It was foggy and clammy outside. The clouds were thick and I felt comfortable in my long sleeves and pants.

Music on, the slow jog has a way of making stiff muscles a little looser but not enough to move quicker. Especially not in the fog. Especially when I cannot see or hear the cars coming down the hill, surprising me as I round the corner. It was then I realized that I was quite close to the top of the cloud; I was going to emerge from the murkiness the closer I came to the hilltop.

Up and out. Clarity. I could see and hear…

I understand that right now I am in a metaphoric fog, close to the top of the hill. My too-close emotions somehow persuade my mind to believe things that are only believable in the fog. Once I run up and out of the cloud, to the clarity from the summit, everything will be much more certain and simpler.

I need to wait, to hold my tongue, to be patient for the hilltop and the lucidity received there.

The gap between doing and becoming is vast. For me, it is difficult to make the leap between being a participant and taking on an identity.

Running. I have run for exercise and pleasure for about 7 years. I run. I’ve ran races and I’ve had running partners, running friends. I’ve spent over two hours on a treadmill before. I run. But when someone asks me if I am a RUNNER, I really find it hard to say yes. Saying, “I am a runner” denotes an added responsibility, a commitment to being something. It means that running is no longer an activity for me, but a part of who I am. It says I am experienced. It is taking the bounding jump between the doing and the being.

Writing. Someone asked me on Friday if I was a writer…I stammered, stuttered. “Well, yes, kindof, I blog, I write, maybe…, if blogging is writing, then yes, sortof”. The bounding jump between the doing and the being. I hadn’t made a decision yet about my level of commitment or of how much I am dedicated to identifying with writing. How much of this is a part of my identity? Is this part of who I am.

Incidentally, while I was running on Saturday, I reached the top of the hill. I slowed down for a couple minutes to touch the pole before I turned around to go home. I think I decided to become, rather than just do. I made a conscious choice to become a writer than to merely write. I guess it is part of growing up, to take the bounding leap to the other side, to the side of responsibility.

I am a runner, a writer, a wife and mother. I am a lover of God. These are the things that I claim. These are the things I am. Other things, I do. This is what I am becoming.

I am looking over there on my sidebar and I am watching the poll:

If I could I would…

• climb a mountain
• pilot a plane
• bungee jump
• ride a wild horse
• run a marathon

If you view the results, just under half of the respondents chose the marathon. Of course this is totally confidential and untraceable and I could never hold anyone to account for this….

So, what stops us? Of the five, running a marathon might be the most accessible for the common person…really. Think about it. And perhaps the cheapest (big races like that usually cost somewhere between $35 and $75 to register).

So really, what stops us? I am not about to get on my running-soapbox because I understand not all of us can run, like to run, live in a place where we can run, or are physically unable somehow. I do have to say that I have been, well, “athletically challenged” all my life for various reasons, and honestly, running is about the only thing I can do (I like to swim too but I’m not very good). But, let’s use this as a metaphor for those things that we deem unreachable, unattainable, too difficult, or too painful.

MARATHON…26.2 miles. I’ve only done one. I am not what I would consider a “marathoner” but I think that I can put myself in the train-myself-from-the-ground-up category. It is my firm belief that if a person can run between 3 and 6 miles, that same person can train for and complete a marathon. My time was not horribly embarrassing, but not great either: 4:37. Four hours and thirty-seven minutes of running, jogging, crying, spacing-out, yelling at my husband. Its hard, and there are parts of it that really aren’t fun.

I won’t lie and say that it doesn’t take a lot of TIME to train and DISCIPLINE (pretty much the old “I don’t want to do it but I know I need to”) to increase your running-shape from a 3 miler to a 20 miler.

But watching that poll climb this past week has made me think about all of you, and me, for that matter: What are we NOT trying that we COULD DO but just haven’t taken the plunge, because of fear. It really does just boil down to fear. Really, I am not advocating all of you to go out and train for a marathon (some bad stuff happened in Chicago on Sunday, I hear). But, truthfully, fear keeps us locked down, stuck in one place, never trying, never venturing, always doing the same thing all the time. Fear that I will be in pain if I try to run a marathon, fear that I can’t finish and I will be embarrassed, fear that I will look silly if I tell others I am going to do this, fear that I can’t mentally stand up under that pressure.

If you make the choice NOT to run your “marathon” (or whatever it is), don’t let it be because of fear.