It’s been three weeks now since I ran my last race.

I successfully completed the Dallas Rock ‘N’ Roll Half Marathon.

See?  They even sent me a little picture medal.

 

rocknroll

Did I say I finished it successfully?

Maybe I shouldn’t use the word successful because that implies that the race was without incident.

And my race definitely had an incident.

I can laugh about it now but in the race, the race that I was giving my all to complete, I fell.

Now, I can talk to my family or friends about that and smile.

“Remember that time that I fell?”

But I can assure you that when I was on the pavement, trying to find my way out of a stupor, I was not laughing.

It wasn’t funny then.

And I don’t know why I fell.

I don’t know if my legs were heavy because I had been moving them so much, or if I was distracted and didn’t notice a slight change in the landscape, or if there was simply something on the pavement that caused me to trip and fall.

Either way, I fell.

And I fell hard.

My phone still has the crack to prove it.

In the middle of what seemed to be a flat road, I tripped and fell.

I was able to break my fall with my hands (and probably my phone) but my knee got a little bruised and my shoe was, well somewhere else.

Someone had to bring it to me.

One word.

Embarrassment.

Well… a few more words.

Dazed. Disbelief. Discouraged.

I rolled to my bottom and just sat there.

I was trying to figure out if I was OK.

Trying to figure out how that had just happened.

Trying to figure out if I was going to bother to get back up.

I was instantly barraged by many well meaning fellow runners who came to me to ask if I was OK. They offered to call for help. They offered their hands to help me up.

I wasn’t moved by any of their kindness.

All of that well-meaning intention translated to me as one thing.

People saw me.

They saw me trip.

They saw me fall.

They saw me sitting on the ground.

Flooded with embarrassment, I battled with the reality of the fall.

Was I hurt?

Was I bleeding?

Was anything broken?

I had a bruised knee but that was about it.

I decided to take one of the hands of the well-meaning, kind-hearted athletes and get up.

Standing up on to feet helped me to realize that I was indeed OK and capable of continuing the race.

I kept going.

I started once again, putting one foot in front of the other and, at my own pace (which isn’t very fast), I started running.

My knee was still bruised.

I ran anyway.

I was still embarrassed.

I ran anyway.

My pride was still a bit injured.

I finished the race.

You know why?

Because I’d paid for that race.

And I’d come too far too give up.

Do you see the life lesson in that?

I do.

It’s been three weeks since that race.

A few days of letting myself off the hook with food and working out because I had “earned it” quickly turned into a run away freight train of out of control emotional eating and lazy undisciplined days.

One word.

Embarrassment.

Well… a few more words.

Dazed. Disbelief. Discouraged.

So for the last few days I’ve been sitting here…

Trying to figure out if I am OK.

Trying to figure out how this happened.

Trying to figure out if I am going to bother to get back to it.

I have confessed my trouble to a few in-real-life friends. They’ve asked if I am OK. They’ve offered to call for help. They offered their hands to help me up.

I haven’t been moved by any of their kindness.

All of that well-meaning intention translates to me as one thing.

People have seen me.

And I’ve had to assess the reality of my fall.

Am I hurt?

Am I bleeding?

Is anything broken beyond repair?

And you know what?  I’m a bit bruised and I’ve got a few extra pounds to prove it, but that’s about it.

Here’s what I’ve learned and am still learning.

We all fall.

Maybe you battle with food or weight like me.

Maybe you have yelled at your kids.

Maybe you haven’t prayed in awhile.

Maybe you are on probation at work.

Maybe you are in debt… again.

Maybe you have opened your mouth at a time you definitely should have kept it closed.

We all fall.

But our lives do not have to be the sum total of our falls, if each time we trip up, we get up.

Today’s a new day.

You are still in the race.

You may even be a bit bruised, but that doesn’t have to stop you from finishing well.

You’ve come too far too give up.

I figure if I needed a reminder to keep running, someone else might to.

So this is it.

I’m offering you my hand.

Will you take it?

Get up my friend.

Keep running.

Where are you struggling today?  I’ve love to hear from you.  Leave a comment.  We are in this together.