Easy Does It

I have recently started running again, and am learning some lessons along the way.

I had become dejected about my running (or lack thereof) in recent years.  Looking back, I see many contributing factors.  After 3 Half Marathons, my running buddy, Danielle, and I had to skip a season.  The next year, in an effort to get back to it, we signed up for an 8k in June.  (I’m still shaking my head over that one).  Running a hilly course in the summer heat felt like “tough hate” and knocked me down several notches.  I joined a gym, believing that the climate-controlled environment would mean fewer “too rainy,” “too dark,” “too hot,” or “too cold” excuses.   I must admit, the conditions were nice – having a fan overhead and a cup holder for my water bottle.  The downside was that instead of letting my body set the pace, the treadmill demanded I choose one.   Time after time, I chose unrealistically, based on my “best-evers” and “when I was youngers.” It was as if I shook the last bit of “I’m a runner” out of myself.  I retreated to the elliptical.  Then, I just stopped going.

Lately, I found that I was missing that “I’m a runner” feeling, and I found myself envious of (yet inspired by) friends’ Facebook posts about training runs and races.  There was also an annual physical on the calendar, with the promise of questions from my doc about how I’m taking care of myself.  Knowing that I needed a concrete goal (read: fear of failure), I signed myself up for a 4-mile race (yes, it is a far cry from 13.2, but I’m okay with that) race in April.  And then, to be sure I wouldn’t back out, I told all of my friends and invited them to run, too.  A Google search for a training schedule turned up one that started with “Run easy 1 mile.”  I liked the sound of that and printed it out.  Upon reading it, I realized that this particular schedule ALWAYS says “easy,” no matter the distance.  By the week before race day, I’ll have worked up to “Run easy 5 miles.”  Easy.  Genius.

It called to mind the Staples “easy button.”  I bought one of those just for fun years ago when the kids were very young and still very dependent on me for lots of things, like making breakfast, fixing snacks, bath time, tying shoes, putting on jackets, packing backpacks for school, reading menus in restaurants, smoothing sibling disputes, deciding everything…  It made a difference on hectic mornings to push that button and hear the canned voice say, “That was easy.”

I couldn’t wait to try it.  Maybe “Easy” was the key I’ve been missing.  On my way to the gym (still “too cold” outside), I promised myself to set an easy pace, even if it was barely faster than walking.   I ran two easy miles instead of just one.  Amazing!  As I jogged along, happily bobbing my head to my gym playlist, I mused at how I’ve sabotaged my progress and felt badly about myself because of unrealistic goals – because of trying to “run hard” instead of “easy.”  I gave myself permission to start “where I was” instead of at my “previous best,” permission to be older and slower than I used to be,  permission to not care what the sprinter on the treadmill next to me thought about the numbers on my machine.  What a gift!

It got me wondering what areas of my life could be made “easy” just by a shift in thinking.  It also got me wondering how many times I’ve put “hard” requirements on people I love rather than showing them “easy” first steps and then being their biggest cheerleader.   More than I could bear to know, I’m sure.  Lord, forgive me!

Don’t get me wrong, there are times that call for running/fighting/working hard, as if our lives depended on it, because sometimes they do.  When we or those we love need rescuing, “easy” is not the way to go.  There are seasons when pushing ourselves past our limits is what we must to to bring the most help to our friends and the most glory to God.

For this season of training, however, I’m going with “easy.”  I’m making progress in both distance and pace instead of wishing I could run again.  I had that annual physical yesterday, and was happy when my doctor asked, “Are you still running?”  The answer was easy.