What's your PR?

A "PR" in the wellness world means "Personal Record."

Last Sunday was my half marathon. Since I have never run a half marathon, I certainly set a PR. But as my friend Kirke most eloquently put it the morning of the race, this PR was "Personal Reason."

What was my PR?

I had intended to run this race alone. I have been training since October with that in mind. 95% of my training runs for the past 5 months have been alone. I was used to that, I found success in that, I became accustomed to that.

About a week before the race, my partner Julie said "I think we should run the half together." I immediately did the whole "thanks but no thanks" thing because, to be honest, I have always done things alone. I was used to that, I found success in that, I became accustomed to that.

You see, she is much faster than me. She has done half marathons before. LOTS of them. And full marathons before. She is a hare. I am a tortoise. So when we talked about it again, I still wasn't convinced.

Here is my PR: sure, I lost 125 pounds while training to run those 13 miles. But that's not it. I have faced the biggest beast that has made my world increasingly smaller. But that's not it. I had the courage to finally come out and tell my story to a world of peers that think being gay AND christian isn't a thing. But that's not it either.

My PR is that I don't have to run this race alone. Not this one, not the next one, not the metaphorical one, none of them.

I have had some amazing conversations with people since coming out. I have had friends that love Jesus tell me that their God doesn't accept my lifestyle, and I have had friends that love Jesus tell me how proud they are of me. I have had people tell me that watching me come out has given them courage to be more loving to the gay Christian community. I have had people tell me that we, as a society, are on a slippery slope where everything has become permissible and it has to stop.

Each conversation has been amazing because I have loved each one of those conversations individually. My friends are wrestling with what God truly believes about being a gay christian. And my story will be the only "arguing" I will ever have with them. My job is not to convince anyone of anything. My job is to try to love like

Jesus. And I can't do that alone.

So Julie and I ran those 13 miles. And it was hard. But the journey allowed me to reflect, be thankful, be emotional, and be ready for what's next. Together. Not alone. I cried when we started, and I cried when we finished. I can't believe we did it. I am so glad I checked my pride and accepted Julie's offer to run with me. She was smiling the entire time, so happy to be next to me. And to be honest, it looked effortless for her! But it was profound and meaningful, and as we crossed the finish, I knew it was just the beginning. For both of us.

Together. Not alone.

"I lost 125 pounds training for this race."

Race day t-shirt has been ordered! Shout out
to Custom Ink!

So, the half marathon I signed up for is this weekend. March 17th. I signed up back in September. And back in September, March felt like forever away. Back in September, I wasn't running at all. I was walking a lot, biking some, and that's about it. My body was two months out of surgery, but I felt ready to train for a 13 mile run that would happen in 6 months.

I started running. I am blessed to be surrounded by the accountability that you HAVE to have to make this happen. I mean when you work at the YMCA, and your job has a full gym downstairs from your office, and in fact encourages you to take time off during the day to work out, you sort of lose all excuses...

I just looked back at my training plan and over the course of those six months, I have run 137 miles. That's a lot of thinking time. And a lot of dreaming time. And a lot of thankful time.

I decided to make a funny t-shirt for the race on Sunday. Since it's St. Patrick's Day, I am having a green t-shirt made that says "I lost 125 pounds training for this race." I stared at that design on my computer today and thought about every pound. I tried to remember 318 pound me. I tried to remember what it felt like to run that first mile. I tried to remember all of it, because I never want to lose how thankful I am for the past six months.

The funny t-shirt design will serve its purpose and then some. I ran 5 miles today after being sick all last week. 125 pounds ago I could never imagine running 5 miles. Every one of the 137 miles I have run has meant the world to me. To watch my life completely change in the past six months is nothing short of miraculous. The weight loss surgery was the catalyst to me finally letting go of the fear of letting others in fully. I lost my "protective shell," but that shell kept out the bad AND the good. It never let people hug me, console me, be beside me, or even get to be near me.

5 miles today on my "short" run. Six months
ago, I would never believe this to be
something I could do!

The sermon at church this past weekend was about thankfulness. And how our thankfulness and joy should be loud. And public. And exciting. My partner and I are still going to church weekly, and we love it. We feel love there. Our experience has spurred on conversations greater and deeper than either of us imagined, and we feel that it is our purpose on this earth. To hold on to each other and let others know they are never alone.

On Sunday, my thankfulness will be loud. And public. And exciting. What a milestone and what a step in the biggest year of my life. And hey, if you are near the Tobacco Trail on Sunday around 9:30 am with nothing to do, I'll see you at the finish line. I'll be the one hobbling across it in a green t-shirt that says "I lost 125 pounds training for this race."

And I'll also be the one giving you a HUGE hug.