A Humbling Half Marathon

Training for the past half marathon had been challenging.

As I shared in my birthday post, I was weak mentally and emotionally. After conquering my birthday run, training was looking up. I ran all my long runs by myself without stopping, increasing my pace each time. I was having a little shin pain close to the race so I tapered a little more than usual.

Then Thursday before the race a horrible episode(s) of the BIG D.

My stomach was in knots from 9pm to 9am. I couldn't sleep, I was awake all night. I felt like I was going to throw up, but I HATE throwing up. I made numerous trips... to b town (aka the bathroom). It was so bad I had to utilize diaper doo... (TMI?) I'm not proud of it. My best friend laughed at me when I told her that...while I was still sick! Then there was the fever and aches.

I knew I needed to eat. I knew I needed to drink. I drank water every chance I did to prevent dehydration. But I couldn't keep up. I woke up Friday feeling 10 million times better. But the damage had been done. I lost probably 5 pounds of water weight. I ate what I could on Friday but my stomach was still queasy and had shrunk.

Dana and I had trained together for multiple half marathons but had never finished one together. She had injured her foot and hadn't ran more than 8 miles. We had agreed that we would run this one together, regardless.

Saturday morning I had hopes that maybe I had recovered. I ran back upstairs before we left and my heart rate told on me. But I had trained. I could do this.

We started the race and the first mile went fast. The weather was gorgeous. And I thought okay, I can make it to ten. At 1.5, I told myself, okay, I can make it to 6. At 2 miles I realized I would be lucky to make it to 3.

By 3 miles my hands and lips were numb. Dana remarked that I was really pale. My muscles felt like tightly wrung sponges.

Stopping at 3 miles of 13 is probably the scariest thing ever.

We decided to run 8 minutes and walk 1 minute. The distance I could run got shorter and shorter.

I wanted to cry. Let's be real, I did. I hated that Dana could run on and refused to. I needed to walk and hated to do it because she didn't need to. I craved water constantly, I would drink two cups at a water stop and my mouth would be dry 5 minutes later.

I was so mad. I had ran all my long runs. I had trained. I did what I was suppose to, even when running was the last thing I wanted to do. Dana kept reminding me that "Comparison is the thief of joy." I kept reminding myself that God did not want me to run this race, for whatever reason.

The ironic thing is that earlier that week I had been feeling so bad about myself and my body. I felt awful about myself. The upcoming weekend was full of activities and I was going to feel self conscious the whole time. I broached the subject of my body image issues in this post: Food. My best Frienemy. It was really just the tip of the iceberg.

There I was, not an ounce of water weight on me. In the body I had wanted a few days before. And yet, this body couldn't carry me 13.1 miles. The body I had a week ago, the body I spoke so poorly about, that body could have.

God used illness as an opportunity to teach me to love my body.

God humbled me.

Dana and I crossed the finish line. Together.

It was the longest, most miserable and disappointing 13.1 miles ever.

And yet, a very important 13.1 miles.

If you look for Him in everything, He will reveal Himself.

Want

In the past few weeks as things we have prayed for and longed for have been given to us I have realized something that is always with me...

I am in a constant state of want.

I want my body to look a certain way. I want to be liked. I want the world's approval.

I want for things.  I want new shoes and running clothes. I want this kitchen gadget and that book. I want a nice house with hardwood floors and granite counter tops.

I want to do things. I want to go see this movie and eat at this restaurant. I want to vacation on a beach. I want to run races. I want to go on mission trips.

I want romance. I want Michael to fill me up and make me whole.

I want for the past. I want to be a little girl who plays doctor with my cockerspaniel in the yard. I want to be 15 and meet Michael all over again. I want to be 17 and not wreck my car. I want to return to a time when I didn't know what taxes were and didn't have to be financially responsible.

I want for the future. I want this dog to know what heal means. I want to buy a house. I want to graduate. I want to be a physical therapist. I want to meet our babies and bake cookies and throw birthday parties.

And when I get something I want, I find something else to want.

I am in a constant state of longing.

It is overwhelming to face to the fact that I will never be fully satisfied. I will want and want and want and I will get and get and get.  And yet, my wanting will never cease.

My new job will not fill the hole. Our future home will not curb my cravings.

I was made this way.  In order to demonstrate my need for something, for someone greater.
Until I want for Him the way I want for the things of this world, I will never be full.

All my life long I had panted
  For a draught from some cool spring,
That I hoped would quench the burning
  Of the thirst I felt within

.
Hallelujah! I have found Him

Whom my soul so long has craved!
Jesus satisfies all my longings;
  Through His life I now am saved.

Praise God for the hard times.

God works in ways we cannot see.

During my second year of physical therapy school I received a fellowship that required my last clinical be at the Kenny Roger's Children's Center in Sikeston, MO. However, they only had one spot available and Rachel's lottery pick higher than mine, so Rachel went to Sikeston. My first choice for my final clinical was the Children's Therapeutic Learning Center in Kansas City. Which I got.

Then I put my name in a for a draw for St. Louis Children's Hospital. I didn't get it.

I still wasn't sure I was where I was suppose to be.

I ended up switching to Mercy Outpatient Pediatric Therapy for my final clinical. I switched in hopes of making connections in Springfield in order to find a job.

Three weeks before my clinical began we thought there may be a clinical instructor at Kenny Roger's that could take me so that Rachel and I could go together. That didn't work out.

Before Michael and I decided that we are moving to Springfield I applied and interviewed for a full time position at Rusk Rehabilitation in Columbia, MO.  My third clinical was at Rusk, you can read about how much I loved it here, here, and here.

That was a month ago. I was sure that just as soon as we decided they would call and make a offer and I would feel torn. My confidence wavered as time continued on and I didn't hear anything.

The week before I started my clinical I was checking job postings in Springfield every day; Mercy, Cox, the Developmental Center of the Ozarks, but mainly Mercy. Mercy had many listings for outpatient therapy that I passed over every day. Outpatient orthopedics is just not my thing. I love the little people.

For some reason one morning I clicked the listing. The first sentence read:

*Position will be primarily in pediatrics.*

If that's not a God thing, I don't know what is. 

I applied that Friday morning and started my clinical in the same exact position on Monday, just a week and a half ago.

This past Monday my clinical instructor told me the therapy manager left a note for me to interview with him on Wednesday. I was so excited!

Then, on Tuesday, Rusk finally called me back and offered me the position! Yes, we had decided to move but it was exciting to receive my first job offer. I have no doubt that the offer was timed perfectly.  When we had become confident in our decision to move so that there was no second guessing. 

Rusk needed an answer by the end of the week. 

My interview on Wednesday at Mercy led to a meeting with human resources on Thursday. A couple hours later I received a phone call offering me a full time position. 

God is all knowing. All powerful. And ever faithful.

It is amazing to look back and see God putting His plan into motion. From Rachel being a higher lottery number than me to out of no where changing my clinical pick, God was in control of every single detail. Leaving no room for doubt as to where He wants us to serve Him. 

It is so easy to praise God for the abundant blessings we are currently receiving. These blessings demonstrate the utter importance of praising God through the storms. Through all the struggles of indecision, trials in our marriage when I began physical therapy school, and months spent struggling to pay bills, God was at work leading to today.

Praise God for the hard times.

Today I accepted a position as a Mercy Pediatric Physical Therapist. 

God is good.

And the best part is that He isn't finished with us yet.