steam rising

I ran 2.5 miles tonight. If you know me, you know that 2.5 miles, without walking, is a feat. I have been running for 2 weeks now, gradually increasing from a mile, from 10 minutes of running to 30. Sunday nights are the hard ones, the longest runs. When I stepped up on the treadmill, all I could think about was how much I didn't want to do it. I was fighting myself the entire way.

After mile one was when it got really hard. Not the physical as much as the mental. Running is pretty simple; one foot in front of the other, no real skill required. Its the brain that does all the work. At least for me. It seemed Rihanna was not enough to keep me motivated today. As the battle in my mind egged me to quit, if only for a few seconds, I began to imagine the fortress Herod built in Israel; Masada. It was the Jewish people's last stand against the Roman empire. The giant fortress rests atop an enormous mountain. The mountain was surrounded for 3 years by Roman troops. On the southern end, there is a steep ramp where the Roman soldiers built a tower that was cranked up the hill, until the Roman soldiers fought face to face with the Jewish soldiers, defending their families and life as they knew it. And as I ran, there I was. On the cliff, facing the invader. I know it sounds dramatic. But it took every ounce of... something, to keep me going, to fight the urge to quit and walk. Something.

I finished. I went outside and laid down on the cold cement, face-up, looking at the stars. It was so dark and the sky was so clear. For a moment it seemed I was swimming in the stars. Until I noticed the steam rising from my face. Words came to mind from one of my favorite songs, "My love is over, its underneath, its inside, its in between" That was the something. Not my own gusto. Not my own strength. Not even perseverance had taught me how to withstand that doubting. His love has met me in places I wasn't looking for it. It met me when my friends disowned me Sophomore year because I wasn't as cool as their new friends. It met me when I failed my first college class. It met me when my dad left this world, left me half-orphaned. It met me when I found myself aching for home, 7,000 miles away. And it met me on a treadmill.

It met me on a treadmill.

Who is this God that refuses to be ignored? That must be recognized in EVERY area of my life? Who is this Savior whose forgiveness is unequivocally endless? Who is this Spirit that calls to me from the stars? I love when He is in the small things because it reminds me of how great His love really is.