[this is me not beating myself up for not updating this blog regularly, as I said I would]
My knee finally crumbled.
A week ago I felt the need to go, so I threw my running shoes in my car and started driving. I ended up at home. Home as in, hometown, home. Of course I knew this would happen, I just couldn't admit it to myself until I was pulling down the road to a beach on the opposite side of Lake Ontario, an hour from my parents house.
I fell asleep that night in the bed I'd slept in for years, fell asleep thinking why the heck did I just drive home?? The next morning I layed in bed thinking the same thing.
But I know why I drove home.
I drove home because just knowing there are heaps of mountains just a little over an hour away sets my soul at ease. I drove home because for some reason I can access Jesus there in a way I haven't been able to anywhere else. I drove home because something about running on those particular country roads lets me breathe easy, lets me relax.
I drove home because I needed the river, the woods, the big green couch, the perfectly brewed coffee, the cabinets and cabinets full of whole foods.
I ran 33 miles in 3 days, 58 for the week, and now my knee is crumbling.
Perhaps it's because when I added up my miles from the past six months I realized I ran 1256 miles in these shoes (that's a little more than the suggested 300). Maybe I gained a few pounds and my knee doesn't know how to handle it (its a joke). Or maybe just maybe my body wants a break. I don't want to give it one, but I think our bodies know more than we give them credit for.
Part of what I've been doing the last year or so is really listening to my body. Sometimes I'll jump up with a sudden need to eat something green. Strange? Maybe. Or maybe my body knows there's something in the green stuff that it wants. Sometimes I know I need to be in the sun, need to do yoga, need a glass of soy milk.
So when my knee aches, my body doesn't want to run anymore. If I'm going to honor it by letting it run when it aches to run, then I also must honor it by letting it rest when it wants to rest.
I'll let you rest. But please, please feel better soon. There are miles and miles we have not covered, millions of thoughts that still need to be sorted out. Don't fail me now.