Many Are My Plans

Image courtesy of www.cmhager.com

Saturday dawned clear and cool.  70 degrees.  The perfect temperature for a 5 mile training run.  My husband, a friend of ours, and I are training for a half marathon.  I haven't run more than 3 miles at a time since high school so those 13.1 miles loom ominously in the not so distant future.  Our training schedule has us running progressively more miles each day and will culminate with the actual 1/2 marathon on December 1.  

We set out for our run about noon on Saturday.  Feeling strong and surprisingly in shape, I kept pace with the guys, even speeding past them regularly (OK, one time).  We got back home from the run feeling proud.  I honestly don't think I've ever run 5 miles without stopping... this was a new record!  I felt so proud of my body.  I was in control.  I was unstoppable.  I could do anything.

I headed to the market to pick up some last minute avocados for guacamole and some flowers for centerpieces.  We were hosting an engagement party later that night and I had to make sure all was in order!  I finished icing some cupcakes, crafting appetizers, determining the correct number of serving dishes, and making arrangements.

After cooking and baking all afternoon, I got ready for the party in about 5 minutes (not my best).  In the excitement of setting up and greeting guests, I didn't sit down the entire night.  I finally collapsed into bed around 1:30 am, hardly noticing that my ankles had started to swell... 

Sunday morning I awoke to not one, but TWO, extremely swollen ankles.  They didn't hurt too much but boy were they huge.  Even my sweet husband, survivor of two torn ACLs and proponent of  that cruel phrase, "Pain is weakness leaving the body," was alarmed to see them.  My first thought was, of course,  how will I ever do my training run today?  I decided that since my ankles didn't hurt that much, I could still join my hubby on our 3 mile run. It was on the schedule so I had to do it, right?  

Not even 20 feet from my front door came the first sign that this wasn't my best idea.  I took one wrong step off a curb and my right ankle throbbed.  I stopped, shook it out, and decided to keep going.  An apprehensive look from my husband wasn't going to slow me down and I took off in front of him.  We had barely gone 1/2 a mile when I stopped again, this time for real.  My ankles were, if this is even possible, swelling to about the size of my calves.  I took this as a pretty clear sign that I should get home and elevate those suckers asap.

Over the past few days, I've taken the time to elevate and ice those poor ankles.  Part of me is frustrated- frustrated that I can't count on my body to do the things I want it to do.  Part of me is angry that I'll fall behind the training schedule because my ankles can't perform.  Part of me is jealous as I watch my husband stick to those runs each day.  But most of me is thankful that the Lord has brought me to this point of weakness so that I might remember it is He who sustains me.

You see, Saturday was symbolic.  Not just in the running sense, but of events that had transpired all week.  Sure, I felt that I was rocking this running thing.  I also got a job offer (PTL!) for full-time work, something I've struggled to find since January, I felt that I had been an especially good daughter and wife, and I was planning this engagement party and it was going to be perfect.  Basically, I felt completely in control.  I barely talked to God even just to tell him about my week or to whisper a quick prayer of thanks or to rely on Him in all things.  I liked how my life was going and I didn't really need to get Him involved.  

Sometimes God really has to shout at me before I'll listen.  I tune Him out so much that for me to notice He's even there, He has to grab my attention. That's exactly what He did with my weekend injury.  I'm not in any pain (except for my bruised pride) but my swollen ankles are warning enough to stay off of my feet and just rest.  I've hung up my running shoes, at least for a few days, and have relaxed in full confidence that God is in control.  This week, I'm being reminded of my own human frailty.  I'm being reminded that on my own, I'm not capable of anything. I'm being reminded that He is in control, and that is very good news.

Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand. 

Proverbs 19:23