One reason why I run
First of all, it’s an exercise of the mind. Exercise is where I confront limiting thought loops and break broken soundtracks (thank you Jon Acuff) that tell me terrible things: I’m a quitter, I’m lazy, I won’t stick with it, everyone else is stronger.
The first huge shift was when I learned that I am not victim to that voice. So I learn to catch the thought, and decide it’s not the kind of thing anyone should have to listen to.
Instead I loop new truth: I am strong enough. I’m well prepared. I rise to a challenge and I finish strong. And as I adopt that mindset, it becomes true. The mindset determines my course. I might want to quit ten times within the span of a workout, but I don’t. And every time I don’t quit, I am less a quitter. Every time I finish strong, I confirm to myself that those whispers that tell me I’m weak? They just aren’t true.
You know that deathly whisper? The one that tells you terrible things about yourself? If you’re hearing it, it might be exactly because you are already on the right track. It doesn’t take much temptation to lead you astray if you’re already astray, or to keep you from getting started in the first place. Resistance never stopped anyone from going downhill; it’s quite a smooth slide in that direction.
Rather, resistance (thank you Steven Pressfield) confronts those who are moving onward, upward, forward, on the path toward exactly where they want to be. If the dark whispers are trying to hold you back, they’re trying to keep you stuck, spinning out right where you are. Remind yourself they are wrong about you.
When we put ourselves in a place to willingly confront the worst that’s within, we are positioned to grow past it.
Breaking the habits of the mind takes practice, but over time, the new soundtrack will take hold.
When I’m running, every step can become a chance to break out of the dark and reinforce the rhythm of what is true, kind, helpful, worthy, and good.
Integrating Our Health: Heart, Soul, Mind & Strength
Lack of integrity isn’t hard to find.
It’s a politician claiming to be an expert … when clearly they have no clue.
It’s a leader who teaches the importance of mental health … but won’t go to counseling.
It’s the lofty claims on the packaging of a food marketed as “healthy” … but makes you feel awful after eating it.
It’s a mom telling her child, “No, we’re not going to have dessert tonight,” knowing full well she’s got a bar of salted caramel dark chocolate secretly stashed in the freezer … oop! Surely I’m not the only one?!
It’s a double standard; it’s hypocrisy; it’s gossip, double talk and trouble stirring; and the list could just go on and on because we know a lack of integrity when we see it, and any time we do it is so grating and so blatantly wrong.
On the other hand, integrity is wholeness, completeness: The quality of being whole and undivided.
The principle of integrity runs through the Scripture and in Mark 12:30-31 it syncs up with our modern concepts of health: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength. And love your neighbor as yourself.”
We are integrated beings; not merely souls, but embodied beings. As such, our physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual health all affect one another - no one aspect can be separated from the others.
Stewarding our health is not about toned muscles, going on a health kick, wearing a certain size or achieving “perfection.” Perfection isn’t attainable to us in this life; only Jesus lived a perfect life. Rather, we must consider that caring well for our own health enables us to care well for others and live out the love of God in our lives. He has planned good things for you to do, and by stewarding your time, energy and resources well, you will be more ready and able to answer when He calls.
Living in wholeness calls us to face how we’re operating and start to address some deeper things: What’s driving our patterns and routines? What’s working and what’s not? How are we actually harming our health through negative thoughts or harmful actions?
Jesus said, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly” (John 10:10). There are real, small and simple steps toward a life of more abundance, and I believe that is what God wants for each of us!
My 6-day YouVersion Plan “Healthy Self: Heart, Soul, Mind and Strength,” gives more context to what Scripture says about each aspect of health and unpacks ways to live a more thriving life. I encourage you to get into the Word and invite God to grow each facet of your health!
I don’t want to die with the “music still inside,” as Oliver Wendell Holmes articulated in a beautifully jarring way.
I’m not very adventurous. I’m more comfort-driven than I wish to admit. (Because to admit it would be … uncomfortable.) At a certain point I realized that if I didn’t push back against it, my comfort zone would naturally shrink to fill the space I was instinctively comfortable in. And it wasn’t a very big space.
Yet I want to live all the life I was made for.
I have a vision of myself as an old lady who is vibrant, curious, and engaged; not so set in her ways; and I was not on course to become her. So I began to lean into the process of pushing back against the edges of my comfort zone bit by bit in very everyday ways.
It’s a million tiny little things, adding up over time. It’s saying no to the “snooze” button in the morning and yes to the "Do Not Disturb” button during work hours. It’s doing some things that feel supremely boring and others that feel very scary. It’s an everyday process of self-leadership.
I’m in process, and here to share the process and be a voice of encouragement to others ready to keep growing forward, seeking “life to the fullest,” and calling out the music from within.
What happens when you take the time to let quiet in?
One recent Tuesday morning after my group run workout, the practice ended with a post-run yoga session. It began with a simple breathing and mindfulness exercise: Just lie still on the mat and breathe.
Well this is nice. We just finished a tough workout, and the recovery breaths are welcome. I notice the chatter and song of morning birds; clouds drifting overhead; “Saturn,” by Sleeping at Last playing at just the right volume. A gentle breeze above; the solid ground below.
And then…the exercise seemed to be lasting quite a while. I think of myself as being relatively comfortable with quiet, but my mind was getting jumpy. Are we almost done? How long has it been? It feels like at least five minutes. Maybe ten? Did she forget to set a timer and let us keep lying here too long? I’m trying to stick with this, but distraction pulls at me from every side. I thought this would be easier than it is…just try to relax. RELAX!
Is this mindfulness, to be made aware of all the distractions in my mind?
Finally, the cue to move on: It had been two minutes. Two minutes!
I noticed how challenging it had been for me to be still and how uncomfortable I felt with the stillness, and remembered the practice of 5 quiet minutes that I used to do each morning. I have strayed so far away from the practice that I actually forgot about it.
I have been wanting to build more reflection into my life lately, but it’s been hard to grasp. Even waking up earlier to make time to get in Scripture, I find it hard to direct the time. I’m prone to feel rushed, to chase distractions; to pick up my phone or start a to-do list. The purpose is grounding in truth and renewing my mind. But my mind can’t be renewed if I don’t ever take stock of what’s in there. I resolved that a return to practicing five minutes of quiet would be a good step.
Later that day, Dr. Kim and I recorded a Healthy Self / Healthy Marriage episode on spiritual and emotional health for the AM Podcast. I mentioned an exercise I have learned (thank you, Scazzeros!) of taking 2 minutes to write about each emotion: Happy, anxious, sad, mad, and how 2 minutes can bring up a surprising amount of things.
As I said this I reflected internally on my two minutes that morning. The ignition of this two-minutes theme clicked on so clearly that you might see a lightbulb over my head in the podcast video! And this in turn reminded Dr. Kim of the challenge that his pastor has given: to take five minutes of quiet each day.
There’s something special in this crazy-busy world about having a lightbulb moment about the power of quiet and then hearing someone else share the same thing. There’s a collective need for renewal, and there is value in fighting to make time to think our own thoughts.
So today, whether 2 minutes or 5, I’m taking time to let quiet in. To welcome the thoughts; even the ones that feel like distractions, and let them pass through. To break from pressure and productivity and become aware of what already is.
What’s on your mind today? What happens when you take the time to let quiet in; let the dust settle and the chaos clear?
Perception vs reality
I wrote this post in 2019 and it still makes me laugh when I play with our dog and think of my good neighbor, looking out his window and thinking he lives next door to a total jerk.
Sometimes things are exactly as they seem. Other times, though, our own angle on the situation means it’s impossible to see clearly on our own.
Our nearest neighbor has a window overlooking our front yard. Over the years he’s watched every manner of sibling skirmish, often reporting his observations later; philosophizing on how these childhood moments will affect the kids later. Sometimes he he ends the story by reminding the bigger kids that the little guys will someday be big too, so treat ’em well (or else!). He’s a great neighbor. We all share a laugh about these moments, and I’m thankful for him in our “village.”
Recently he observed a situation so shocking, so unbelievable, that he didn’t wait long to tell Brian the whole story of what he’d seen. Only this time, it wasn’t about any of the kids: It was me.
They were sitting outside. When I walked out within the very hour I encountered two sheepish faces. “Rusty told me what he saw,” Brian mentioned fake-casually, with a sneaky smile.
“What’s that?”
“He says he saw you kicking the dog.”
“He … what?”
I hadn’t kicked the dog, so I thought they were messing around, until Rusty began explaining what he’d seen. It was yesterday. No one else was around at the house. From the window, he’d seen me kick little June, and she ran away. Then he saw me kick her again. And again!
I racked my brain for what he may be remembering. Listen, I’m not the biggest dog person. He might already have known that, I don’t know. But I know I’ve never kicked her. Oh! Except once when we were kicking the soccer ball to her, and she ran right straight into my foot-swing and — hey…wait!
“Was this yesterday, late afternoon?” I ventured.
“Yes, it was,” his smile spreading. He’s going to think its funny if I’m busted.
“Could it be you saw me kicking the soccer ball to June, and her running after it?”
Now he starts to look sheepish in a slightly different manner as we all begin to realize how the facts are situated.
“I did spend some time kicking the soccer ball to the dog yesterday afternoon.”
He never saw the ball. I can’t fault him that; the angle he could see from was certainly not a clear one. The ball was the same color as the dog. He probably had never noticed that dog soccer is her favorite game. We all had a good laugh. But I’m sure glad we got that sorted out. And I’m glad now no one has to go around thinking I’m a dog-kicking jerk.
Sometimes, all it takes is a dose of proper perspective to clear up misperceptions.
The Day Life Got 100% Scarier
My first time on a plane was an overseas flight. I was 11, summer before sixth grade. I still remember the playlist they had on the in-flight entertainment. I always wondered why “Sloop John B” made the playlist, but that refrain - “I wanna go home - Let me go home! (woah woah) this is the worst trip I’ve ever been on” will always remind me of that trip.
Having never flown before, I was comfortable enough in the plane seat (plenty of space for 11 year-old self). The entertainment and food were novelties. The one thing that made me beyond nervous was the bathroom. I was just certain that I’d flush myself down that airplane toilet and right out of the bottom of the airplane.
And this was not my only toilet-related fear. Out of nowhere I developed a mental image of a snake slithering up through the bowl while I was preoccupied attending to the purpose of the visit. I also feared the same event, but featuring a squirrel. I know, the squirrel scenario seems especially unlikely, but in my minds’ eye, it seemed very real, and entirely possible.
These fears would surface specifically in the late night, time for the last bathroom trip of the day; and would paralyze me. I’d lay in bed, knowing I could not fall asleep without taking care of bathroom business, but too terrified to go. I did realize it was a ridiculous and irrational thing to fear, so I didn't speak it aloud to anyone for fear of sounding crazy, or of not being taken seriously (and which of those is worse?) …which in turn made it all the more powerful.
I knew these fears were irrational. I’d never once heard of any snake slithering up through any plumbing pipes, much less a squirrel, (granted this was pre-internet) but that reality didn’t stop me from thinking fearful thoughts.
I didn’t think to fear the much more possible, rational things. I skated by with little worry until the weekend I turned 39 and Brian sustained a concussion while surfing. I’d always considered surf less dangerous than skate (b/c of falling in water vs concrete) but when I realized he was *this close* to being knocked out cold underwater … my view shifted.
The next evening while camping, I stepped off the railroad tie bordering our campsite in the dark, thinking the ground was a 6-inch step down - to find it was 3 feet down. I turned my ankle, and in addition I suddenly saw potential danger in everything. Anything could be painful. Everything seemed risky. We could be ruined in an instant: In the hobby we have always enjoyed; in a moment of slight misperception. I’d never noticed it, but human fragility was suddenly searingly obvious.
I learned the reality of intrusive thoughts and could envision 5 ways any situation might go wrong. I had to start learning to deal with them. I’ve been humbled by becoming more aware of my total lack of control, but seeing that also makes each day a kind of miracle. “Today it didn’t all go wrong! Today things are okay.” Even when they’re not the kind of okay I wish for, there’s something going right.