Chasing Evan

I hate running.  Really I do.  I have 50 million excuses to not run.  It's too cold (65 degrees), too hot (75 degrees), too windy (there's a strong breeze), I'm too tired (I'm a terrible sleeper anyway), the sidewalk is too hard, etc.   

But I love the satisfaction of a good cardio workout.  I also love knowing that I did something healthy regardless of how I felt.  It's good for me.  I'd rather lift weights or throw myself into a class at the gym - something less mentally challenging-  than running alone with my angry muscles.  

But I run anyway.  Once in a while.  A necessary evil.

This morning I opted to go for a power walk and as I was tying my shoes, Evan, my 11 year old began running around the house frantically searching for his running shorts and shoes so he could come with me.  

Me.  "Are you sure about this?  The loop is three and a half miles."
Evan. "Yep!  I'm gonna be a runner!"
Me.  "You'll be a great runner!" Motherly pause of consternation.  "But this is over three miles so if you think you can keep up, let's go!"

I began by power walking followed by light jogging to keep up with his ambitious legs.  After a long and arduous two blocks he was exhausted and panting.  His shirt quickly came off and was tucked safely into the back of his shorts.

We quickly came up with a plan  - we'd alternate between walking and running.  We mostly walked.  I encouraged him, praised him, challenged him and then paused in the shade to occasionally wait for him.

"You can do it, Evan!  Keep it up!  Almost half way there"

"The hardest challenges you'll face in life will be in your mind."  

"Your body can totally do this - you are strong enough!"

"No one gets faster by walking."

"Sweat is normal.  Your body is just getting used to it."

I didn't get the cardio workout I had wanted nor did I burn off the brownie I had snacked on before we left.  (Don't judge.)  But when he caught up to me, his toothy grin of gratitude was worth it.  Every time.

Then he'd weave into the spouting sprinklers in people's yards, pause in the shade, wipe a tiny droplet of sweat from his head before checking his perfectly gelled hair, re-tuck his shirt into the back of his shorts, then check his shoe laces.

As we hit the two mile mark, he decided to sprint a bit.  I found myself smiling from ear to ear as I chased his lean little body down the sidewalk.

He reminded me of myself as my heart chuckled remembering all the moments that I have panted and complained, not believing I was strong enough of or capable enough to follow through with a task.

The times I walked because I didn't have the stamina.
The times I cried for mercy when shade was right around the corner.
The times I feigned an injury for a little sympathy.

And I can't help but wonder how many times I've made God lovingly chuckle yet roll His tender eyes in exasperation at my drama.  I quickly recall the times He's encouraged my heart, challenged my spirit, held my hand, and prompted me forward.

He knows me better than I know myself.  He knows what strengths He's given me.  What weaknesses.  What abilities and opportunities.  He watches when I sprint forward then suddenly get sidetracked in a refreshing sprinkler.

And it's my gratefulness, my deep gratitude for His patience that warms my heart with grace towards Evan as he leaps forward in life.  Straining then resting.  Yearning then stopping.  Believing then not but constantly trying.