I thought it was one of the meanest things he ever did to me.
I think he meant well by purchasing it. He had heard me complain several times about how I was finding it hard to carve out pockets of my day to work out, how I missed running on the treadmills and going to the gym, how I missed the pants my body used to fit in...
And I'm sure he missed having a partner who wasn't constantly complaining about all of those things.
So, you know, I'm pretty sure he did it for love.
It was hurtful enough that he had purchased the jogging stroller for me to use, but meaner still, he offered to go on evening runs with me and push the baby while I ran the trail. (I know. Rude.) He would spring down the trail all effortlessly with the baby happily banging her sippy cup on the sides of the stroller. Meanwhile poor Mom was bringing up the rear, huffing and puffing all by myself, watching those two get further and further away until I couldn't see them anymore. Between my gasping sounds, I would hear the distant squeal of my daughter's delight, acting like this whole situation was fun. The nerve of that baby.
It would get hard to motivate myself alone, so I would eventually slow to a walk until the two happy travelers would rejoin me on their turnaround. I would feel convicted to jog along behind them while I could see them, but I would return to my walk as soon as they faded from my sight. For several nights a week this was our routine, and aside from the part where I had to jog, I was happy with it.
Then my husband had to go and ruin it by expecting more from me. Gah!
I distinctly remember the day I really did feel like he was being mean to me. He and the baby started pulling out in front of me as they always did, and I followed well behind them---waiting for them to fall out of my view so I could run for fifty more feet and then quit.
But they never faded out of sight. In fact, my husband kept looking back at me and adjusting his speed to make sure I was keeping up.
Eventually, he turned around and started pushing the stroller backwards to watch me!
I hollered up at him, "Don't worry about me. Go on ahead."
But he didn't turn around! Instead, he hollered back at me,
"If I can do it backwards, you can do it forward!"
NO! What was he doing?!
He knew I was too proud to quit jogging if he was watching me so I trudged on and on. It was awful. I watched him push that stroller backwards up a hill as I struggled behind him. I wheezed. I griped. I eventually got sick on the side of the trail. I cried. He and the baby finished the rest of the walk beside me without any remark or condemnation.
But oh, once I caught my breath, I SURE HAD SOME WORDS.
"You're pushing me too hard! You shouldn't expect me to keep up with you, and you can't treat me like a soldier!!" I chided him.
I expected an apology. I didn't get one. He simply said, "Then you can't quit. You can slow down. Just don't stop."
My husband kept right on pushing that stroller for me through the years. He pushed two babies right next to me as I ran my very first race--the four of us finishing 8k together in 40 minutes. He carted us all out of town and brought those babies to hug their mama as I finished my first half-marathon. Now we shuttle our babies to school and go on morning runs together. He can still smoke me on the trail, always fading fast from my sights--yet he turns around backwards to check on me every now and then, because he knows it pushes me.
And after all these years that trick still works, because I don't want him to see me stop.
The other day as I lagged behind him, I thought about how the Bible tells us to "spur one another on toward love and good deeds" (Hebrews 10:24). I often like to think of myself as a good encourager, pushing my people on with a message of hope and grace. And while this is good and necessary, it is not the only way. Some situations call for spurs.
I imagine a horse likes to be motivated by a treat. Rewards make them feel good.
And I also figure that a horse is rightly motivated by a bit. Sure, it's probably annoying to be told where to go with a little tug. But if they follow along, then the bit releases and they can do what they want.
I'd bet that a horse does't love to be motivated by spurs. They're sharp and they dig.
We're not all that different from horses in this way, but each motivator has its purpose and its place--and all methods are necessary for us to perform our best.
The problem with only using a reward-motivator is that sometimes rewards don't come right away, so we get discouraged and stop.
The problem with a "bit" is that it only motivates you if someone is right there pulling on it--I don't have to do anything I don't want to when I'm all by myself.
Spurs can seem cruel in the moment, but the result is immediate and the tender feeling keeps you moving for some time afterward.
I think we are hesitant to "spur" each other because we think that being tough also makes you mean. This isn't always true.
You see, I thought my husband was being harsh, but it turns out that his "spurring" was actually one of the kindest things he's ever done for me. I may not have liked the way that it felt in the moment, but it turns out that nothing at that time was going to motivate me as much as a kick in the butt. And the reason his spurring has had such a lasting impact on me is because it was done in love.He didn't push me for any other reason but to help me move forward. It's why, after the kick, he ran beside me. When cowboys spur a horse, they intend to come along for the ride too.
I don't know if my husband quite knew what he was setting off when he gave me the kick, but I thank God he's still hanging on.
I'm also glad he's agreed to join me in my next crazy scheme: running the beautiful 13.1 trail by my house for no other reason than to say I bested it. (I think I'll call it the "Half Out of My Mind.") :)
Be sure to thank your cowboys, friends. (And may we be as tough as them if ever we are called.)
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