Phobic

Ever had one of those dreams that felt so real you had to wake up to realize it wasn’t actually happening?  A few nights ago...in the middle of my REM...I’m driving the car with my husband in the passenger’s seat.  First problem, I’m the driver.  If at all possible, he is my designated driver forever and always.  It’s as if he were born with this internal GPS.  My blue-eyed boy is always fully confidant of exactly where he’s going even if he doesn’t have a clue. 

And so without any reason or explanation, I’m driving.  We are heading up a bridge straight into zero gravity.  “Dear Jesus...”I’m thinking. In this dream, I’m actually praying...really, really praying.  I’m frozen with fear. I cannot look to my right or my left, because in a second we could drop straight to certain doom.  But I keep driving and hoping and praying and driving and hoping and praying that we will outlive this scary moment and somehow make it over this bridge of terror.  

Problem number two, in case you haven’t realized I’m frantically and desperately scared of heights.  Yeah, this is bad, I mean very, very bad.  If we were going to drive a bridge to the heavens, at least my guy could have taken the lead on this one.  Because he actually would have probably considered this an adventure.  Which is exactly how he handles just about everything in life. While I sit back and analyze and freak...well, unless I’m racing or illustrating or competing. And I’m just hoping I survive for the next few seconds.  Yeah, and in case you’re wondering, I’m still frozen.

I have these same obsessive dreams...used to be that I hadn’t turned in my Math homework...how many 33 year-olds have frantic dreams about their Algebra homework?  I can’t help but thinking something is seriously wrong with me. 

Finally, there’s this other nightmare where I drive straight into the ocean.  Phobia #3: drowning in a large body of water stuck in my car. So I wonder what my subconscious is trying to tell me and I have to ask if there are any other crazy people out there brave enough to admit their phobias...even the ones that show themselves in our sleeping hours?

And I have to sit back and think these are the things that I have no control over.  These are the elephants in my life that I cannot outrun or outsmart or cover up with any amount of creative or artistic design.  This is where it simply can’t be up to this runner girl and I let God take charge. So I begin to search his Word and see what it speaks to me...

”Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”  John 14:27

“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything.  Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done.”  Philippians 4:6

“See, God has come to save me.  I will trust in him and not be afraid.  The Lord God is my strength and my song; he has given me victory.” Isaiah 12:2

And I want these to be my mantras and my waking thoughts, so that even in my dreams...even when life is scary...even when it’s out of my control...my fears are quiet and my God is strong.

The Chase

Anybody remember that one guy that you spent months crushing on...trying to figure out his classes...his lunch...friends...locker...just for a glimpse.  I wasn’t a creeper...promise...but I chased a few hot guys.  There was one.  My forever first love.  From the moment I laid my middle school eyes on that boy...pink polo, white pants, striking dark crazy hair, blue eyes...it was all stars and hearts...he was in the 6th grade and a foot shorter than me. Back then, the chase was all excitement and thrill and adventure and a dream.  But I guess the chase never really left me.

And so it should...remain...the chase... the idea of love or romance or success or happiness or that one runner that you just can’t quite catch...no matter how much abs or grueling sweat or heavy breathing you put behind it. The chase is the perfecting of oneself or the thought of something better or more awesome than you, even on your best day.

Each Saturday as I run along the gorgeous Atlantic coastline, I obsess over dozens of swimmers with their perfectly sculpted physiques, training for their next Tri...and hundreds of cyclists exerting every bit of strength to climb bridge after bridge in their miled trail.  And I wish it was me.  I tell this runner girl that soon I’m going to be lapping it up out there...I mean after a few swim lessons or maybe get one of those bikes with the ridiculously small tires and skintight cycling jersey.  I laugh deep inside at this. And somehow the thought of chasing this starry-eyed athlete’s dream, makes me better, stronger, more focused.

But for now, I’m going to keep chasing the thought of being the best runner girl out there.

Last Saturday, I ran Key West.  One of 600 runners it was the smallest half of my career by far.  I found the toned girl with the 2.0 hour marker and figured as long as she was chasing me, we were good.  Then I noticed the girl who was running the entire race without shoes and I was astonished and completely taken with those uncovered and bare, black soles.  Yes, she would be my high and lofty goal.  So I chased the girl in the yellow sports bra with the small pony tail.  The tall, skinny guy in the blue shirt, breathing hard, short breaths. The girl who was killing it out there, in the glowing pink tank.  The beast of a man with the huge cross tattoo imprinted on his back. And finally that shoeless girl.  One by one as I passed each...I celebrated a sort of success.  Each chase was making me better...more disciplined...confidant...a champion.

Just a half mile out from the finish, Miss 2.0 suddenly sprinted past me, but I just kept on chasing the girl without shoes.  

I saw my kids...my guy...running through the cheer zone...full of claps and happy yells and total adrenaline...I swept through the finish at 1:59.

It’s always worth the challenge...the hard work...the sweat...the finish.  Never stop wanting, never stop running, and no matter who’s in front of you, never, ever stop chasing.