Like a large number of runners who routinely tackle long distances, I began running marathons (26.2 miles) and ultramarathons (distances over 26.2 miles) to deal with pain, emotional abuse, and feelings of helplessness.
And while running can be a wonderful outlet for psychological pain, I'll be the first to tell you that the relief it gives is only temporary. Hence the reason I sought it again and again and again, in the same way an addict tenaciously seeks a substance again and again to remove their pain, going back for more each time the ache returns.
Over the course of nearly twenty years, the physical suffering of running taught me how to put my mental and emotional pain in a box. And it taught me how to press on when every fiber of my being wanted to give up on life. In other words, pain made me a good runner.
The irony is that I had become exceptionally good at enduring the pain of ultrarunning because I had spent much of my life learning how to endure emotional pain, first from my father and then my ex-husband.
In fact, the emotional abuse and trauma that I was going through became such a powerful motivator, that I used it to propel me to complete more than 100 marathons and ultramarathons, including 12 one hundred mile races. Every footstep provided relief and every finish line crossed brought temporary accolades from the people who caused the pain, which reinforced the behavior. Strange how that works, isn't it?
Running had been my escape for so long, in fact, that I found it strange when, after finding the strength to break free and move on many years ago, my relationship with running began to slowly change. This was something that became very apparent on Saturday.
While attempting to complete my thirteenth one-hundred mile race, I began to cry about 14 miles in. "Lord, I don't have any pain, bitterness, unforgiveness or resentment anymore to drive me. And I know now, with all my heart, that I don't have to earn your love or that of my husband."
This epiphany that had been coming for a long time caused me to call my husband of four years (who is a gift from God and the sweetest, kindest, and most godly man I have ever met) who was out on the course running the 50k distance to say, "Honey, I feel led to drop down to the 100k. I just don't have it in me anymore." To which he replied, "Okay, honey. I love you. Pray over it and let me know what you decide."
And then it hit me... why even bother with the 100k? Why not just run back to my husband (who was several miles behind me due to a later start time) and run with him to his finish line? Which is exactly what I did! By the time we met up, he had 17 miles to go which meant we had several hours of precious time together out on the trails to celebrate his birthday.
And while I didn't get a medal, I got something much better. I got to walk with my husband (aka sweet Larry) across the finish line. And he said it was the best birthday he had ever had. Does that make you smile or what?
And, you know, while it might have taken me years to find "the one" whose love I never had to earn, this experience reminded me how blessed I am to truly understand that I don't have to earn God's love either. None of us do.
Sadly, though, many people think otherwise. Especially if they had an earthly father or spouse whose love was conditional and based on their performance and/or obedience. But this is the deal. "While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." Do you get that? "God demonstrates His own love toward us" as we are. There's nothing we could do to earn this love and nothing we could do for Him to withhold this love. It's unconditional!
Think about it. God’s love is completely independent of human performance, meaning we never have to earn His approval or fear losing His affection based on our failures or accomplishments. This means our worth isn't determined by how much we can endure, how far we can run, or how many medals we bring home. And while the world may make us feel that love and acceptance must be earned, God's love is different.
Think about that. God loved us before we ever did anything to deserve His love. We didn't have to prove ourselves, accomplish something extraordinary, or suffer enough to become worthy of it. Jesus went to the cross for us while we were still sinners. His love wasn't a reward for our performance. It was a gift of His grace.
So remember, running can be a wonderful outlet for emotional pain my friend, but it can't heal every wound or fill the void left by years of rejection and abuse. But Jesus can. I’m living proof of that. And that healing and filling of the void starts with truly understanding that you don't have to earn God's love. Pretty amazing, right?







