Finding my purpose

I don't love to run.  Let's just get that straight.  But thanks to the encouragement of some kind friends, last year taught me a healthy relationship with running and I completed a 1/2 marathon in just under 2 hours and 10 minutes.  I took a thing I disliked and turned it into a victory!  What's my point?  There has to be some background to where this story starts. So there you go.

About 7 months ago we adopted a dog named Misty.  She is about 18 months old now and a great addition to our family.  She's active when it's appropriate and lazy when it's just right. Kinda like me.  So like I said, a good fit.

The other day I was out for a run.  I'm trying to run 1-2 times a week because I can now appreciate the personal and training benefits of a run and rather than dread it, I try to rise to the challenge.  Anyway, there I was.  And so was Misty.  She's my running buddy now that the weather is getting better.  She does pretty good, especially for a scent hound.  She tolerates my tugging if she sniffs too long, and she clearly enjoys the exercise almost as much as she likes the nap afterwards.

Surprisingly, I was feeling great.  I had a lot on my mind and the fresh air was doing me some good.  But what I noticed, and not for the first time, was how much I was enjoying coaching Misty through the run.  Telling her to leave the smells, encouraging her up the hills, and providing her a calm voice when we got near big dogs (she's still a little wary of anything bigger than she)...it was awesome.  And it was filling a void for me that I've been ignoring.

See, I've been a coach or encourager of some sort for many years.  During my school years, I was selected as a "Natural Helper" and a "Peer Helper", titles that I realize now really meant a lot to me.  I tried to be that friend people came to for encouragement.  When I was in the military, one of my greatest honors was trying to take care of the men and women I worked with, doing my best to support their professional growth and personal development, even to the point where a senior officer accused me of caring too much because I wasn't willing to back down when arguing on behalf of someone under my leadership.  More recently, I was privileged to be called coach by more than 200 athletes, mostly women, while running a functional fitness program in Kansas.  It was a calling I didn't take lightly, and something that brought me great joy and reward.

So back to the run.  As a non-runner, I don't fully buy into runner's high, that euphoria that many runners speak of.  It's not my place of release or calm.  But what was confirmed for me was that coaching and encouraging IS my place of calm.  One mentor called it my ministry...helping others move beyond their fears to places of new achievement, and I was trying to give that to Misty.

While all in all, finding your passion and pouring yourself into it is a good thing, it doesn't come without risk.  Sometimes we sacrifice too much...our own development (I know I've done that), relationships (maybe I have), or even our health.  On this day, I did just that.  So focused was I on encouraging Misty (we had just overcome a hill and a big dog was in front of us--two evils in a short span, one for me and one for her) that I wasn't completely focused on my surroundings.  I stepped up towards a sidewalk, but apparently not ON TO the sidewalk.  I stepped short, landed on a pile of mud I thought was the curb and went flying.  In slow motion, I saw my hands out in front of me, took notice of my body parallel to the ground, and then watched my body crash, my hands scrape violently across the sidewalk.

As I lay there, bloody and upset (all while the other dog owner continued to look at me and walk away), I realized I had three choices.  I could call my husband to pick me up, valid based on my injuries, I could walk home, or I could keep going.

Misty, after checking on me, made it clear she was ready to keep going. 

 And so we did.  We did another two miles, and instead of focusing on my bleeding hands and aching elbow and knee, I encouraged her to pick up her pace, charge up the hills, and finish faster than we started.  And in doing so, I felt no pain, was proud of my work, and had a great sense of accomplishment.

Sure, my hands quickly started hurting when I stopped.  But what I definitely did was fulfill my purpose.  I coached Misty through a good run, and I was the one who ended up all the better for it (all things considered).  In the end, knowing your purpose makes the hard days easier and the injuries of life more manageable.  Being mindful of what you are risking is important, as well.  If it is your own development that is hindered, are you truly fulfilling your purpose?  Something like torn up hands can heal, but ignoring your calling, or letting it get in the way of your best self is not as recoverable.  Finding that balance can be your greatest challenge.

What do you believe your purpose to be?  Have you risked to fulfill it?