I talk a lot about the beautiful trail next to my house. But I feel like I should finally share with you that not every bit of the beautiful trail is exactly...well...beautiful.
Some of it runs beside a sparkling lake and some of it goes under a highway overpass.
Some of it is beautifully shaded by fern bluffs and live oaks and some of it has the sun beating down on you because people can't stop building subdivisions everywhere.
Some of it is sweetly scented by wildflowers and grasses and some of it smells like an animal came upon its unfortunate demise.
Some of it runs along creeks and waterfalls and some of it takes you by a drainage ditch.
Don't get me wrong. It's the best public trail I've ever seen. It's well kept and feels safe and is such a fun, unexpected bit of nature in the city. I use it all the time, because I really do enjoy it.
But even lovely things have some rougher edges.
Today my run training was done largely on my least favorite part of the trail. A busier-than-it-should-be country road is largely visible on one side of it. There is almost no shade. (It was absolutely horrible today since we are already pushing triple digits in Texas.) It is the one and only part of the trail where I have to cross through street traffic. There's a large subdivision that leveled off what should have been a beautiful, tree-covered hill. There is always something that smells rotten in this one section where the two-lane road curves a little too quickly. (Poor critters.)
You might be wondering why, if I dislike this part so much, I would choose to run here today---and I am with you, friend. Most of the time I will go out of my way to run on the parts that I find more enjoyable. Too easy.
But the thing about my least favorite part of the trail is that it *just so happens* to be the closest access point to the trail from my house. Therefore, it will be both the very first 1.5 miles and the very last 1.5 miles of my 13.1 mile run. (This is how luck often works out for me, y'all.)
I've found that a lot of things in life work out like that, though.
We will have a drive and a dream, and so much of following that dream will take us through something lovely and good. We will see and experience so many unexpected delights along the way. But, the two roughest parts of that journey will almost always be at the start and the finish.
Starting is hard. I get it. I can almost always tell how a run is going to go after the first mile. Sometimes everything just clicks and I'm able to settle in and just coast for a while. But sometimes I burn too hot out of the gate and I struggle to correct my pacing. Sometimes the run ahead seems too daunting and it makes me hesitant to go all in. Sometimes you know that the good stuff is around the bend, but first you have to go through something all hot and stinky and unpleasant to look at.
And the end...don't even get me started on the end. Some of you are strong finishers so you might not relate, but I can find endings very discouraging. You've heard me talk about grace through perseverance enough that it should not surprise you even a little bit to hear that I finish sloppy. It's a "struggle bus" situation almost every time. Endings are where body parts are numb and almost always aching. There is almost always a hill. It's a hundred degrees at nine o'clock in the morning and there is no shade for the last 1.5 miles, so I'm almost always chaffing somewhere unfortunate. And I'm tired. So very, very tired.
***
This stinkin' Army move has put me at the start and finish line at the same time. We're at the end of our time in Texas. Chaffed by dealing with landlords, aching from dealing with strong kid emotions, feeling like we're at the uphill part of getting everything squared away on time, numb to all of the sweet kiddos' end-of-the-school-year activities (because they still have TWO MORE WEEKS! GAH!) and so very, very tired of waiting for it all to just be complete.
But then, I'm also approaching the starting line of our time in Alaska. I'm worried over whether or not we're prepared enough. Our 4,000 mile trip seems daunting to say the least. I'm anxious to see what the first leg of our road trip says about how we should do the rest of our "pacing." And if I'm being honest, I'm a bit hesitant because I don't know exactly what I'm getting myself into.
But I'm all in--for ALL of it--because I know this journey will lead me somewhere lovely and good. I'm sure there will be stinky parts along the way that are not altogether beautiful. But even so, I'm going in fully anticipating to be delighted. We'll push through the hard stuff so we won't miss out on the beautiful parts. We know that beautiful things can handle some rough edges.
And we also know that those are the kinds of things worth seeing through from beginning to end.
***
Today I trained on my least favorite part of the trail. Do you know why I practice going through the hard stuff, friend?
To teach myself that I can overcome rough edges in pursuit of lovely things.
Cheering you on, whatever leg of the race you're in.
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