Writing for 31 days on a theme varies by author. Some pre-plan and pre-write and I envy that level of organization. I approach life with much analysis (bordering on over-analysis), but one day at a time, and while 31 days of one-day-at-a-time will stress and stretch me, I enjoy this watching for the daily grace.
I’m a reluctant runner. Don’t get me wrong: running has made me stronger than I’ve been in years. I spent most of my twenties and thirties steadily expanding our family of ten. Eight babies in nineteen years kept my arms strong (a baby’s weight doubles once you place him in a carseat—don’t ask me the science for that, but it’s true), but it didn’t do much for the rest of me.
When I told you about my first book—which comes out in less than four months!—I left out the part about gaining 10 pounds last winter while compiling it. On a good day the scales say I’ve lost eight of them, but it’s been a slow process. I’ve never gone on a diet, so I look to exercise as the answer to my problems.
[I posted in early 2012 about starting to exercise because of health issues. This year I found out the swelling in my left leg is caused by veinous reflux disease. I cancelled an appointment next week to correct it thanks to health insurance that doesn’t actually pay for anything. Are any of you frustrated over your insurance or the lack of it? Sorry to digress . . .]
I feel burned out from so many early mornings in a row, but I made myself run during my kids’ cross country practice today. My husband says, “I’m going to go sweat!” but I fight and procrastinate even though I know the results are worth it. I don’t enjoy listening to myself whine (in my head) any more than I enjoy hearing my kids do it out loud, so this morning I chanted gratitude instead of grumbling.
Thank you, Lord, for this mild morning, not too hot or too cold.
Thank you for the ability to run; don’t let me take it for granted.
Thank you for increased stamina; I haven’t always had it.
Thank you for the beauty of the greenway; focusing on it distracts me when I want to quit.
Thank you for the kiss of rain on my face; a gentle conversation between us.
I’m even thankful for my RunKeeper app, which enables me to compete with myself—at least with other daily versions of myself. I’ll sprint like I’m being chased if there’s a chance of beating my miles-per-minute for the previous run.
Do you find it difficult to be grateful for things that you don’t necessarily enjoy?
