Running with Perseverence

Broad Street Run with Kelsey last year.

As mentioned in some previous post, I have a love/hate relationship with running. Unlike some runners, it's not relaxing. Mile by mile is a fierce battle with my mind, legs, and lungs thrashing to get at each other. I frequently complain to my roommate, Shannon, on my way out the door, "but I don't waaaaanna run."
And yet I go. Circling the local cemetery, out to the edges of the neighborhood, up a main street, down another, and occasionally tracing the rivers when I need the mileage. Aside from the Motown/classic rock/Christian noise embedded in my ears (and the pepper spray at the ready in my pocket, parents!), it's introvert time. I've outrun yappy dogs, jeering jerks, and treacherous sidewalks. Sometimes I've given up and groused at my tetchy ankles and finicky airway (hey there, exercise-induced asthma).
It's only after my running app robotically recites whatever mile I choose to end on and I slow my carcass down to a walk that I start feeling something approaching good and start enjoying my surroundings. By the time I get back to the house, the strife is over and the battle done. I ache. I'm whining and ready to devour whatever vittles are present. And yet, there's a grim satisfaction in every run's completion.
On Sunday I run my first half marathon with my friend Leah. I'm nervous. Races make me nervous in general. In this case, I've run a fair amount, but nowhere near enough to feel completely prepared. The Internet is filled with advice and warnings about how much I'm slacking on fueling/training/preparation. But Sunday comes regardless. I don't want to sound dramatic or full of pretentious-Christian-speak, but I'm really leaning on God's grace. I can only go so far (distance and otherwise) on my own strength. I need grace.
The last few weeks and months keep bringing this lesson back to me. Whether it's running a race, running a career race back to Spain, or running through life, grace is a soft blanket of comfort when the seasons of life are sharp and seemingly unmercifully harsh.
Pray for that race. And if you will, please pray for the one on Sunday.