While I was at the gym yesterday, trying to get back into the routine of going, I was doing so well, I thought I was gonna die. Ten minutes into my run, I felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest, with sandbags on my ankles, in the dead of the Atlanta summer.
Despite the feeling of overall, general death, I kept going. I thought, I'll just run fifteen minutes instead of thirty. That's half of what I usually do, but something is better than nothing. and somehow I made it to fifteen minutes. Then I thought, well, what's five more? Twenty minutes is two thirds. That's cool. So I pumped up my Lady Gaga and dragged through an extra five minutes. And those five more minutes came and went. And somehow, I pushed through another ten minutes. I felt like I had been running for five hours, not just half, I looked like a melting beet, and I probably didn't exactly smell like flowers. But I didn't stop after ten minutes. Despite wanting to, and believe me I wanted to, Despite feeling like every part of my body was yelling at me to stop, and even though I felt like my lungs were tearing with every step I took, I kept going. I had the determination to continue.
Maybe my life isn't where I want it to be, and it sure as hell isn't where I thought it would be at twenty two. Even when feel like giving up, I don't. I dont know where or how, I muster up the strength but I push myself because life is a marathon not a sprint.
Salmos 37:5
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