Sometimes You Have to Run: Facing an Uncertain Future With Boldness

I don’t usually like to run. I like the idea of running, and I often have the urge to when I’m feeling stressed or anxious. The reality of it is a bit less fun. But I have taken up racewalking. It’s how I pass the time while my two big kids are at OT and it’s one of the few consistent kinds of exercise I manage at this point.

My life is a bit of a mess at the moment. We’re about to enter a period of financial challenge and uncertainly with a side of emotional and spiritual crises. Basically, familial Armageddon. We’ve faced challenges before but this is a new one since we’ve added three kids to the mix.

I’ve been struggling to find the words. I usually have more words than sense, most days. But right now, my neurons are vibrating in a wordless song that I can’t silence.

So today I ran. A song I hadn’t heard in years came up on Spotify as I walked, and as the bridge crested into the chorus, I took a deep breath and sprinted down the sidewalk.

My arms pumped, my legs flailed and I went until my lungs burned to near bursting and I could feel the familiar urge to vomit with exertion. It didn’t last nearly as long as I thought it would. As I said, I’m not usually a runner, and certainly not a sprinter.

Yet, sprinting is what I do daily now. I can’t look at the long road ahead, it is objectively more than I can handle. But I can gird myself for the immediate challenge of the next two city blocks. I can face the crises of today even if I feel ill-equipped for tomorrow.

I may sound sanguine, even brave. Do not misunderstand. I am shaking and quaking and clinging to the rocks as the waters rise. I’m not drowning yet, but I’m wetter than I’d like to be. The crash of waves makes me want to cover my ears. I want to close my eyes against the salty spray. But I refuse.

Not because I am brave, but because I must.

I will shout for rescue over the roar until I grow horse, my eyes search the horizon until they ache, keeping watch for deliverance.