This Saturday Bill and I decided to run another 5 K race. This one was in Des Moines and was a fundraiser for AIDS. So we get up early, get on the road and this is the scene that greets us. We knew it was supposed to be cold and windy but we weren't expecting snow on the ground. This picture does not do justice to the sleet falling almost horizontal. Needless to say, it was freezing, but it wasn't until we started to run did the real misery begin.
Here is me before the race. I look happy albeit a bit cold, right? If I knew what was awaiting when the gun went off, I may have stayed in the car. The race starts off OK, I ran the first mile fast for me in 9:43. Then the hills came and came and came. We were warned on the brochure saying the race was over a 'hilly picturesque course'. First of all no one cares how picturesque the course is when they are running it, it is not the Parade of Homes and secondly, hilly was an understatement. The second mile was the worst mile I have ever run, not in terms of time but in terms of pure suffering. I learned this about myself. When I suffer, I feel righteous. I start to compare my suffering to righteous suffering. Like MLK Jr who had to walk for miles to gain civil rights and he was beaten and he spent time in jail, not to mention shot before this dream was realized. He did that, I think, I can run up this hill. Then I think of Mother Teresa who probably slept on the floor most of her adult life, unclear if that is true but it made me feel more righteous to think about that in my suffering. The list goes on and on in my head; everyone who has suffered for a cause throughout the ages I compare myself to and think if they did it, I can keep running up this hill. I stop short of comparing my suffering to Jesus'. You can all be thankful for that.
Here is me after the race. Bill says I look the same as I did before the race. I tell him that is because it is supposed to seem effortless. He laughed. But you all now know it wasn't effortless and there was a litany of righteous suffers whom I was comparing myself to along the way.
Bill got first place in this age group, but was too cold to pose with his ribbon outside so I got a shot while in the car.
Bill is tired of hearing me talk about my righteous suffering. Won't he be pleased to know I blogged about it for all to enjoy?
Here is me before the race. I look happy albeit a bit cold, right? If I knew what was awaiting when the gun went off, I may have stayed in the car. The race starts off OK, I ran the first mile fast for me in 9:43. Then the hills came and came and came. We were warned on the brochure saying the race was over a 'hilly picturesque course'. First of all no one cares how picturesque the course is when they are running it, it is not the Parade of Homes and secondly, hilly was an understatement. The second mile was the worst mile I have ever run, not in terms of time but in terms of pure suffering. I learned this about myself. When I suffer, I feel righteous. I start to compare my suffering to righteous suffering. Like MLK Jr who had to walk for miles to gain civil rights and he was beaten and he spent time in jail, not to mention shot before this dream was realized. He did that, I think, I can run up this hill. Then I think of Mother Teresa who probably slept on the floor most of her adult life, unclear if that is true but it made me feel more righteous to think about that in my suffering. The list goes on and on in my head; everyone who has suffered for a cause throughout the ages I compare myself to and think if they did it, I can keep running up this hill. I stop short of comparing my suffering to Jesus'. You can all be thankful for that.
Here is me after the race. Bill says I look the same as I did before the race. I tell him that is because it is supposed to seem effortless. He laughed. But you all now know it wasn't effortless and there was a litany of righteous suffers whom I was comparing myself to along the way.
Bill got first place in this age group, but was too cold to pose with his ribbon outside so I got a shot while in the car.
Bill is tired of hearing me talk about my righteous suffering. Won't he be pleased to know I blogged about it for all to enjoy?
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