“I am a success today because I had a friend who believed in me and I didn’t have the heart to let him down…”

- Abraham Lincoln

See, there is a part of me that doesn’t want to run this marathon because there is a part of me that believes there isn’t anything for me to feel proud of anymore.  For various reasons I’m sure I’ll blog about at some point, I’ve really been struggling with food and I’ve already gained quite a bit of weight.  I feel HORRIBLE about myself (what is it about extra weight that makes me feel so ashamed?) and I just want to bury myself under the covers and never, ever leave the house.  When May comes around, I’m not going to be the girl who lost a hundred pounds and ran a marathon.  I’m not going to feel all cute and athletic in my running outfit and I’m not going to feel like I’ve achieved any of my goals (what makes me forget that running a marathon IS one of my goals – and a huge goal to accomplish, I don’t know.)

But then tonight, after a really encouraging conversation with a friend, I realized that I DO have something to be proud of if I run this marathon, especially if I’ve gained 20 or 30lbs by then:

I’m going to run it while pregnant AND fat!!! 

(I should probably clarify that my friend didn’t call me fat – he was actually expressing to me how proud of me he was for various things, including running while pregnant.)

After our conversation I came to realize that while others may be proud of me, I haven’t been feeling proud of me, lately.  There is a LOT about this marathon I had tied into losing weight.  When I realized that not only were my weight loss goals unobtainable right now, but I’m actually working in the opposite direction and gaining weight steadily (and rapidly), the marathon became something I wanted to give up on.

This marathon was supposed to be a glorious ending to an incredibly difficult struggle and victory over my weight.  It was supposed to be the crowning achievement of all my hard work.  I realize now that although I love the idea of running for the pure enjoyment of it, the reality is that up till now, I’ve trained for the marathon for the sake of having a beautiful moment of closure to what has been an incredibly difficult journey.  It was supposed to be a turning point – defining who I was (and what I weighed… the two are unfortunately linked in my mind) forever after.  When I realized it wasn’t going to be what I had planned it to be, I didn’t want to do it anymore.

But here is what I saw clearly for the first time, tonight: it’s not about me becoming who I think I want to become.  It’s not about a moment of truth, or the brilliant ending to some incredible journey.  It’s about me being exactly who I am, exactly where I am, doing exactly what I’m doing.  The marathon is part of my journey – whether I’m running while pregnant or nursing or menopausal, whether I’m at “goal weight” or wearing plus-sized running pants.  I pray that this is the first of many marathons (and maybe even ultra-marathons!) on my journey.  More importantly, I pray for the wisdom to see each stage of my life as another part of the incredible journey God and I and a bunch of amazing, wonderful people he has placed in my life are taking together. It’s all a part of the journey.

I am exactly where I’m supposed to be.

— 1 —

I have the most amazing, supportive husband.  Yesterday I discovered that there is a marathon coming up in Nashville taking place just a week before the one we had planned to run in Cincinnati.  Running this one would be much cheaper for us, and to be honest I was pretty bummed to hear that there was another option!  I don’t WANT to run the course in Nashville, but financially, it really is the best option.  Last night, when I spoke with my husband about it, he looked me in the eye and said very seriously: “Rina… this is a BIG DEAL.  This is your first marathon.  I don’t care how expensive it is, I want you to run the one you WANT to run.  We’ll come up with the money.”  This, from a man who is already working extra days at his current job and just recently put in an application at a place he DOESN’T want to work, just so that our children can take music lessons.  This, from a man who has supported my photography hobby (according to the books and our budget, it is still VERY much a hobby) without complaint for two years.  This man watches not only my children but Manuela’s children and occasionally Michelle’s little boy at least twice a week while I run and go on photo shoots.  He makes my running more of a priority than I do… when I don’t want to get out there and run, he’s the one who gets me out the door more often than not (often with some help from Michelle and Manuela!  It takes a village…  )  I’m so incredibly thankful for him.  He’s truly, truly amazing.

— 2 —

In hopes of boosting my energy levels for said marathon, this week I started a regimen of chlorophyll, black-strap molasses and gallons and gallons of red raspberry leaf tea (actually, I haven’t been drinking the tea, but I plan to!  Really I do!) Having discovered the link between muscle fatigue and high blood volume/low red blood cell count, it has occurred to me (actually, I think it occurred to Michelle) that if I were to start increasing my iron levels, my red blood cell count would increase.  I’m a pretty lousy supplement taker, most of my good intentions have been sitting in bottles since my last pregnancy, but I think there’s a chance I’ll stick with this.  I’m hoping this iron enhancing cocktail will act like Popeye’s trusty can of spinach and boost me out of my practically comatose state of lethargy.  We’ll see.

— 3 —

I saw the greatest picture/caption a few months ago, it made me laugh so hard, because I could SO relate to it:

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Only, now it’s not so funny.  Because that second picture?  Lately, I’m FEELING that way, too.

— 4 —

Speaking of things that I haven’t touched since my last pregnancy, I had the most wonderful bologna sandwich the other night!  (Things like this are the reason I’ve already gained ten pounds and probably have something to do with the fact that the above picture isn’t so funny anymore.)  Lately, my nutrition has been coming from less than optimal sources.  Most of my grains and proteins have been coming from microwavable pizza bites and granola bars, my vegetable servings have been coming from broccoli and cheese lean pockets, and my fruit has been coming from frozen strawberry popsicles.

— 5 —

In light of this less than stellar nutrition, Jon and I have decided to devote every Sunday to meal preparation, and Michelle, Manuela and I have decided to devote some of our Tuesday get-together’s to freezer cooking. My thought is not only to have a bunch of meals already made and in the freezer, but also to have things cut up so that they’re easy to assemble for crock pot meals.  I plan to dice carrots, peppers, onions, cut up strawberries and apples and peel oranges, etc and have all the prep work done for just about every meal we eat throughout the week.  I also plan to make lots of bread dough and freeze it so that each night I can thaw it out and every morning I can pop it in the oven.  Anything to make my life easier and reduce the chances that we’ll end up eating out is a good thing right now.

If anyone has any ideas of easy make-ahead-meals, I’d love to hear them!

— 6 —

Last night, bored and unable to sleep, I watched an episode of Hoarders on Netflix (Netflix has opened my eyes and exposed me to to all new levels of low-quality entertainment.  While I was sick, I actually watched a few episodes of Bridezilla.  I am ashamed.)  Featured in this episode was an older women who, when her children grew up and left home, simply stopped picking up after herself.  As I’m watching this and they’re showing all the trash that has accumulated all over her house, I kept thinking “OHMYGOSH, that’s ME!  That’s ME!“  I can just see my future: After years of cleaning up after 7 (or 15, who knows by then?) kids, I’m just going to STOP.  I’m never going to want to scrub another dish or take out another bag of trash or wash another pile of clothes ever, ever again.  I’ll just let it all pile up and I’ll leave little paths throughout the house so that I can walk around.  The bed, of course, will be free from clutter.

A little while ago, I unwrapped a piece of cheese, set the wrapper on the counter, and started walking away when the thought hit me “I’M ALREADY DOING IT!!!”  Five paces from the trash can, and here I am, leaving empty cheese wrappers on the kitchen counter!  Panicked, I grabbed the wrapper, threw it in the trash, and went on a 2 hour cleaning binge.  Actually, that last part isn’t true, but I did pick up my cheese wrapper and throw it in the trash.  Baby steps.

— 7 —

My kids have been listening to the most irritating CD EVER. 

I MEAN EVER.

In fact, I think I’ve blogged about it before but now I can’t find the entry.

It’s a CD of little children singing songs in Hebrew.  I don’t know any of the words, but they get stuck in my head nonetheless and I CANNOT get them out.  The worst part of it is, this is a CD we owned years ago that got broken after weeks (and weeks… and weeks) of continuous listening (by “continuous” I mean that it plays in their CD player on the “repeat” setting ALL. DAY. LONG.  That’s not an exaggeration.  They fall asleep to this music.)  I can’t tell you how happy I was when this CD bit the dust.  But then, a few weeks ago, it arrived in the mail again, courtesy of a charity we’ve supported in the past.  I begged my husband to throw it away before the kids saw it but he wouldn’t do it (“Rina, the kids love this CD.”  JON, THAT’S MY POINT!  THAT’S WHY IT HAS TO GO!!!  PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF YOUR PREGNANT WIFE’S SANITY!!!)  I’m thinking of writing this charity and offering double the amount if they’ll just promise never, EVER, to send another CD to us again.

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A few days ago, I decided to find out.  Following the thoughts of my friend Michelle who thought my difficulty breathing might be pregnancy related, I googled “shortness of breath first trimester” and found an excellent article that my husband (a nurse) kindly summarized for me, using small non-medical words.  In case anyone else was interested, I thought I would share his summary, here.  If you’re pregnant and experiencing shortness of breath, muscle fatigue and overall crumminess any time you have to get out of a supine position on the couch, this might be why:

The hormone progesterone (produced in high levels during pregnancy) increases a pregnant woman’s sensitivity to carbon dioxide (CO2.)  This sensitivity causes the body to work harder to expel CO2 from the system.  One of the most efficient ways our bodies expel CO2 is in the form of exhalation.  As a result, progesterone increases the rate of respiration (the number of breaths taken per minute) by up to 50% during pregnancy.

Even when just sitting on the couch, a pregnant woman will take more breaths per minute than she would if she were not pregnant.  When engaged in aerobic activity, the muscles require more oxygen, thus producing more CO2.  In order to keep these levels of CO2 low, the woman’s respiratory rate increases even further.  This can cause extremely rapid breathing as the body struggles to blow off the increased levels of CO2 caused by exercise. 

Another change caused by progesterone in the expecting mother’s body is the increase in blood volume.  As previously mentioned, when engaged in aerobic exercise, the muscles need more oxygen.  Oxygen is carried to the muscles by hemoglobin, present inside the red blood cells.  During a pregnancy, blood volume levels rise and the number of red blood cells per unit drops.  You can think of it like salt water.  If you take a tablespoon of salt and put it in a cup of water, the water will taste salty.  Add a gallon of water and the water tastes less salty, even though the same amount of salt is present.  Similarly, when pregnant, progesterone raises the amount of plasma (the liquid content of the blood), thus diluting the red blood cell count and causing hemoglobin concentration to fall (this is why many pregnant women struggle with anemia.)  In this diluted state, muscles are not getting the amounts of oxygen they were before the rise of progesterone levels.  This decreases muscle function and leads to early fatigue.

In many ways, the newly pregnant athlete is experiencing changes in her body that affect her in a way very similar to the changes experienced when an out-of-shape person first begins to exercise.  Her muscles are fatigued from the dilution of red blood cells (which decreases the amount of oxygen reaching her muscles) and she experiences shortness of breath and increased respiratory rate due to the increased levels of progesterone.  Consequently, her performance may diminish.

I’m not discouraged.  The way I figure it, this will be excellent conditioning!  Jon’s theory is that the more running (shuffling) I do in my current oxygen-depleted state, the more efficient my muscles will become.  I also read somewhere that as a result of the heart muscles pumping more blood, exercise during pregnancy can assist in improving the cardiovascular system.  So although I may barely scrape by under the time limit for the Flying Pig Marathon in May, by this time next year I’ll be ready to breeze through a 100 mile ultra.  Or at least run a slightly faster marathon.  One or the other.

I’m reminded of something I wrote after my horrible 12 mile run (I love the fact that blogging allows me to look back and be encouraged by lessons I’ve learned in the past, long after I’ve forgotten them.  Another reason why I blog.)…

There is no failure in this journey.  Every single run, whether it’s a 15 minute run, or a 20 minute run/walk, or a personal record setting sprint, is an achievement.  Every single time I get out there and go the distance, I’ve accomplished something.

Amen to that.  Borrowing a line from John Bingham:

Waddle on!

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Categories: Running, Running through Pregnancy

— 1 —

Please bear with me while I brag on my children for a little bit… For the past five days, I’ve been sick with the stomach flu.  For three of those days, my husband wasn’t home so the kids and I were left to fend for ourselves.  And for those three days, my kids took care of everything.  The older three got the baby up each day, fed her, dressed her, put her down for naps, and changed all her diapers – they even gave her a bath.  They made breakfast, lunch, and dinner for everyone (it helped that Jon had already made some meals that the girls just had to heat up), and helped the boys with anything they needed.  All the kids did their chores and played nicely with each other, giving me three days of rest.  I didn’t ask them to do any of this (with the exception of doing their chores) they did it because they knew I wasn’t feeling well and they wanted to help.  I have awesome kids!

— 2 —

Speaking of my awesome kids, I thought it might be fun to give you a little glimpse into some of their personalities…

I’ve been running with the older girls for a few weeks now (with the exception of this week) and last week, I took them for a two mile run up and down our road.  It went something like this:

First 50 seconds:

Momma: Feeling a weeks worth of horrible food choices sloshing around in my belly.  Not looking forward to two miles of this.
Bunchkin: (10 year old): Having fun, chatting with Bundle, just along for the ride
Bundle: Breathing a little heavily, not talking quite as much
Bitty: “Momma, you run really slow.  Why do you run so slow?”

After a mile:

Momma: Tummy hurts.  Feet hurt.  Chest hurts.  Breathing heavily.  Ready to quit.
Bunchkin: Pained expression on her face, but says she’s okay.
Bundle: Alternating between running and walking, just trying to keep up.
Bitty: “Momma, can I run ahead of you?  Just to that sign?”

After a mile and a half:

Momma: Having a dialogue in my head in which I remind myself that the half marathon is MY goal… therefore, I am under no obligation to follow through with that goal.  Pretty sure this is the last two miles I’ll ever run again.
Bunchkin: Stops running because her knees are hurting
Bundle: Stops running because she’s exhausted
Bitty: “Look Momma, I’m jumping over all the water spots in the road.  See?  I’m jumping over this one, and this one, and this one…  Can I run ahead of you?  Just to that house?”

When I got home, I told Jon that next time, HE was running with Bitty.  I’ll take the older two, I can’t keep up with the youngest!

— 3 —

I watched a really awesome movie while I was sick, called Without Limits.  It’s the story of Steve Prefontaine who was one of the greatest American distance runners of all time.  One of the things Prefontaine was famous for was going out early in a race and holding the lead.  Apparently, it’s easier to hang back and stay with the rest of the runners until the end, but in order to do that, Steve would have had to run slower than he could.  He knew he might win more races that way, but he felt that to win races but not give it his all was a cowards way out.  He’s quoted as saying: “To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift.”  It’s a great story, and I’m looking forward to reading more about him.  (Warning: there is some sexual content and language in the movie.)

— 4 —

I’m sure after I post this, I’ll think of seventeen more things I could have written about, but that’s all I’ve got for now.  Have a great weekend, everyone!

— 5 —

— 6 —

— 7 —

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For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

— 1 —

This semester, FOUR of my children are going to be playing a stringed instrument through the WKU Pre-College Strings Program!  Words can’t express what an amazing experience this has been for my kids, we’re so excited to be able to enroll three more of our kids this semester – we’ll have three on the violin and one on cello.  We picked the other two instruments up today (we’d already been renting two) and tonight everyone was playing (or trying to play) at once.  I can’t begin to describe the noise, but the smiles and the giggles were well worth the damage to my ear drums.  We’re starting to look like (if not sound like) a Von Trap Family of Stringed Instruments. 

— 2 —

Although I’m excited about having four of the kids in lessons, I’m a little nervous about it, too.  In the beginning, it will be very important for me to watch them as they practice and help correct little mistakes that can set them up for bad habits in the future… how I’m going to manage practicing each day with four kids plus homeschooling plus everything else I have going on is a little beyond me.  Thankfully, the teachers in the program are extremely supportive, so although the kids may go slow in the beginning, I have every confidence that they’ll catch up.  Especially when they have a genius for a mother.  The other night, I came up with a brilliant way to help my oldest daughter keep her bow straight without Mommy standing over her, so that she could practice on her own…

I’m pretty sure not a single one of her teachers would recommend this, but she’s been practicing for the last hour all by herself so she’s pretty happy with Momma’s ingenuity right now. 

— 3 —

Speaking of violin and the Pre-College Strings Program, I recently found out something that really touched my heart regarding a recent concert Bitty was a part of, held at Ashely’s Furniture Store in Bowling Green .  A facebook post from one of the parents in the program:

According to the manager, the employees there worked for months planning this annual event to host families in need for a meal and visit from Santa complete with gifts for each child. They do this instead of having an office party for themselves.

How incredible is that???

— 4 —

I’ve had a few people ask how the pregnancy is going, and I’ve been bragging about how I’ve had NO nausea and NO cravings and I haven’t been at all sleepy and everything has just been perfect and lovely and wonderful (aside from the fact that I can’t remember anything) and I can’t believe what a difference the running and weight loss has made and…. and… and…

Hello, welcome to Rina’s Pregnancy, week 4 (or 5?  I really have no idea.  When you’re pregnant with your seventh, you just don’t keep up with the days of gestation the way you used to.)  Anyway, this week has featured me sitting on the couch, eating pop-tars and falling asleep while reading books about ultramarathons.  My great plan for controlling my weight during this pregnancy was “just eat when you’re hungry!” and I’ve been wondering how many calories it would take to maintain my weight considering an exercise program of (roughly) 20 miles a week while nursing an (almost) 2 year old while pregnant with another.  If this week is any indicator, that number is somewhere close to 5,386,124 calories per day.

— 5 —

Wait, did I say “maintain” my weight?  In that case, the number should probably be slightly lower, since I’ve gained about 5lbs in the last week and my stomach makes me look as if I’m in the second trimester instead of barely a month into my first.  The pins I’ve been using to keep my too-large skirts in place?  No longer necessary.

— 6 —

Speaking of eating about a billion calories… the other day I posted the following on facebook:

Could someone please come by and bring me a poptart? You can’t stay and visit, i’m grumpy and i’m tired (and I’m still in my pajamas.) But if u could just drop a poptart off at my front door, that would be great.

I was totally kidding when I wrote it, I just thought it was a funny way to express how I’ve been feeling, lately (tired, grumpy, hungry.)  In fact, I purposefully made sure that neither Manuela nor Michelle were going to be checking their facebook statuses that day (I wrote it on Christmas, knowing that both of them would be visiting with their families), because I know they’re both crazy enough (and love me enough) to have brought some to me!  Nevertheless, about 15 minutes later, these arrived on my front porch:

Apparently, another of my crazy loving friends saw my post and contacted another friend who lives close by (Joy from Candlelight Cottage) who happened to have a stash of poptarts in her house.  Poor thing didn’t even stay to visit, thanks to my snarky post (although she says it’s because she had dinner waiting for her.)  That’ll teach me to be careful what I write on facebook!

— 7 —

I shared some with the kids, ate about four of them, and hoarded the rest for the next day.  When my husband came home, he went to eat one and was met by sneering, slobbering Pregnant Rina who told him in no uncertain terms that he was NOT to come between a pregnant woman and her only source of sugar.  Needless to say, he backed off and came home with a bag of Jolly Ranchers (for me, not him) the next night.

That’s how my pregnancy is going, so far. 

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For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

One of the first clues I had this time around that I might be pregnant is when I started doing some really strange things.  Anyone who knows me or has been reading this blog for any length of time knows that I’m a little bit disorganized, incredibly forgetful, very absent-minded, and easily distracted.  But since all these new baby hormones have been floating around in my body, it’s gotten worse.  As if it could get any worse!

I’ve lost my way to places I’ve been to a hundred times and passed the turnoff to my own house twice in the last few weeks.  I’ve forgotten things that should be easy to remember and just found myself in a general sort of fog, lately.

Today, I wrote the following email to two of the teachers in the WKU Pre-College Strings Program that one of my daughters is a part of, and we’re hoping to get two of our other daughters into (I’ve changed some of the info for privacy reasons):

Fridays have been working out GREAT for me, if we can keep doing that.  Next semester, we’re hoping to have [all three of the girls in lessons.]  If at all possible, I’d love to get all three of these lined up on the same day…

Soon after, I received the following response:

Hi Rina,

Before doing any figuring, just wanted to double check which day you’re looking at.  Liyah’s lessons have been on Thursday’s for this whole semester.  So I was a little confused when you said that Friday’s have been working great.  If you could just confirm the day of the week….then we can get started with the scheduling.

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I really don’t know how I’m going to survive the next 9 months.

This morning, I got the following email from my mom:

Hi Rina,

UPS will be delivering two boxes.  The smaller box is yours and the larger heavier box must be returned.  It got sent to you by accident and belongs to another customer.  Your other box will be coming soon.  So don’t open it and tell them they have a call tag for it to be returned.

Love you,

Mom

About a week ago, we received a huge box of what we presumed to be gifts for the children, from my mom (we don’t celebrate Christmas, but one of the kids has a birthday in December, so many of our family members go all out on her birthday and give lots of gifts to all of the children on that day.)  For various reasons, it stayed in our living room, unopened, until yesterday when we finally opened it.

Almost immediately, all the toys were out of their packaging and being loved on by twelve little hands.  Stuffed animals made their way outside (one of them was lost by bedtime, but found again this morning, a little worse for wear by some affection it received by our Great Pyrenees dog.)  Tags were removed from (some of) the clothing as the kids tried on their new outfits, and labels were taken off picture frames and other knick-knacks as we found places to display them.

And then, the very next morning, we received that email.

I PANICKED.  I grabbed the kids and yelled for them to “find everything that was in that box!!!”  My youngest son started to cry as he faced the prospect of sending back (of all things,) our new fruit bowl, and the rest of us rushed around the house, trying to locate the discarded tags, packaging, and labels.  I couldn’t stop thinking “If only we’d waited ONE MORE DAY to open that box!!!”  The reality is there was just no way we could put it all back together.  Even if we could locate all the tags and packages (and the chances of that were slim to none), there was no way we could put it all back in it’s original condition.

In a panic, practically in tears, and completely overwhelmed by the thought that the kids and I had opened a box that hadn’t been meant for us and had probably already lost several small pieces to toys that didn’t belong to us, I sent my husband the following text:

Almost immediately, I heard the soothing sound of a message in response and was comforted by the knowledge that an encouraging word was waiting for me, a practical answer to an impossible problem, a virtual hug to let me know that everything was going to be okay.  With shaking hands, I lovingly caressed the touch screen to open the message that was going to solve all of my problems.  It read:

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Epilogue: As it turned out, the box was for us, it’s a different box that will be coming that will need to be sent back.  Thankfully, I have other friends who can be counted on for encouraging words laughter in the face of life’s problems and we got a good chuckle over the whole situation. 

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Categories: Humor, Marriage

It started on Thanksgiving, the day I ran my 5k (while pregnant, although I wouldn’t find out for another few weeks) and then went to Thanksgiving dinner with my family.  I don’t know what, exactly, it was about Thanksgiving that triggered it but after that day, I just couldn’t seem to stop eating.  And it was so much worse than all the times before that.  A few months ago when I would “binge,” I would binge on pasta or whole wheat bread… I’d eat too much, but what I was eating was healthy.  Then, just before Thanksgiving, I went through a setback that, for the first time, left me gorging on things like cookies and cake, but only lasted for about a week and didn’t involve entire packages or pans of anything.  Then came Thanksgiving and a no-holds-barred, two week food fest where I indulged in eating entire packages of cookies and whole pies all by myself.  I’m not exaggerating and I refuse to be embarrassed by that.  That’s just the reality of the monster that I fight against.  I gained about seven pounds and none of my clothes were fitting correctly (although that may have more to do with the fact that I’m pregnant than my poor diet… my body knows exactly what it’s supposed to do with a baby, and my stomach will swell to 5-months-pregnant proportions in the first month of a pregnancy, and keep growing from there.)

One thing I didn’t struggle with, though, was a feeling of despair or failure.  I’ve learned enough over the course of this journey to know that setbacks like these are temporary, if I don’t let them make me quit.  So although I was eating terribly, I was still running and still making (some!) good food choices and I knew that the breakthrough was just around the corner.

Turns out, the breakthrough would happen during a six mile run (surprise, surprise.  I’m telling you, there is a spiritual aspect to running that leaves me in awe.)

Last Thursday, I was determined to run the full six miles that was on the schedule for that day.  Lately I’ve been doing more run/walking than running, because I’m still getting used to barefoot and minimalist shoe running (stay tuned for a post about that), and I really wanted to get out there on Thursday and run a long distance for the first time.  From the very beginning, though, it was an immense struggle.  My breathing was horrible, my legs hurt (pretty badly), and mentally I just wasn’t there.  I told Manuela and Michelle “I’m feeling all those cookies!”  I know I was feeling, spiritually, much more than that.

About two miles in, I turned to Manuela, practically in tears, and said “I’m fighting demons.”  I knew in that moment that I was engaged in something much more than just the physical act of running.  I was in a battle and I couldn’t afford to lose.  I picked up my pace, and set my MP3 player to play the song “Stay Strong.”  I chose it because of the lyrics…

You’re in the moment now
When all that you’ve been blessed with is not enough
Here’s where the ground gets loose,
Here’s where the devils calls your bluff
Stay strong, you are not lost
Fix your eyes ahead…
Stay strong, you and I run for the prize that lies ahead
We’ve come too far to lose our way…

As I ran, I prayed and fought and pushed.  At one point, the music changes and the rhythm of the song is different and the lyrics are:

Get up, there’s further to go

Get up, there’s more to be done

Get up, this witness is sure

Get up, this race can be won.

(You can listen to the song, and see the lyrics here.  The change is at the 2:30 mark.)

At that point, it was as if God were speaking directly to me, and I just started to cry.  The words sank into me… there’s further to go, there’s more to be done!  GET UP, THIS [FIGHT] CAN BE WON!

How long was I going to let Satan beat me up?  How long was I going to keep giving in?  How long was I going to let him sabotage my efforts and keep me from the path that God has set before me?  In that moment, everything changed.  The battle was just over.  A few minutes later my breathing settled down and the pain in my legs was gone and I ran (most of) the rest of the way (I stopped a few times to chat with Michelle and Manuela.)  I won’t say the rest of the run was effortless, I was still feeling the effects of two weeks worth of bad eating and new shoes, but it was enjoyable in a way that I hadn’t experienced on a long run before.

God has set me on a weight loss path that isn’t yet finished.  He has given me the strength and resolve to run a half marathon, and the determination and the desire to run a full.  And that’s why I’m still planning to run the marathon in May, although I am pregnant.  Because when God “spoke to my heart” through that song, I was carrying a child and didn’t even know it.  And yet, the message was loud and clear: you’re not finished.

I’m entering a different phase of my weight loss and running journey.  I don’t know what it’s going to look like, but I do know this: God has not issued me a 9 month sabbatical.  Things are changing, but not ending.  I won’t meet some of my goals (100lbs lost in a year, the New York Marathon), but I know that God has things in store that are more wonderful, more life-changing than anything I could have planned for myself.

To the little life growing inside of me: lets go run!