In Running...and In Marriage

Early last spring, B.J. and I started running together.  Three mornings a week, we slip out of the house and make our way down 33^rd and through the Benson Sculpture Garden before heading home.  By the time we return, a few of our children are usually snuggled on the sofa, greeting us with puffy eyes and sleepy smiles.

Thanks to these early morning runs, we just might be in the best combined physical shape we’ve been in since we married 10 years ago, even though we’re older and getting gray hairs (shhh!  ;-).  The same could be said for our marriage, I think.  We’re in better shape than we were 10 years ago.  Together we’ve exercised what it means to serve and submit.

There are other things I’ve observed during these early morning workouts.  Things that are true in running…and in marriage. 

1)      It’s never too late to change your stride.

I can still remember the exact place I was in the balcony of our high school gym when I fell down.  We were training for track long before the snow outside melted, and day after day of pounding on the concrete floor wrecked my shins weeks before my first high school track meet.  I continued running for the next four years, getting through countless practices and meets by popping Ibuprofen pills like candy.  I quit running once I graduated.  B.J. and I used to jog a couple of blocks to Dordt’s rec center in the wee hours of the morning, but that was my limit.  The pain that would shoot through my shins with every step for days following a jog was simply not worth it.

During my pregnancy with Eli, Dr. J. asked me if I was exercising.  “Not much,” I replied, “other than chasing the kids around.”  I told him about my shins.  “Even if I just walk a mile or two at a time, my legs start aching all over again,” I told him.  Dr. J. snorted, “Must be your stride!” and referred me to the physical therapist upstairs.  The PT was not in, and I had three hungry kids with me.  I left shaking my head.  Tell a 29-year old woman to change the way she’s walked and run all her life?  Yeah, right!

Well, when we decided to try jogging again, I knew I was going to have to try something different.  And so I worked hard to change my stride.  I leaned forward. I focused on lifting my legs with my core muscles.  And most importantly, I taught myself to land mid-foot, instead of on the ball of my foot.  The result?  No shin pain.  None.  Nada.  Not even a hint in 7 months time.

What about in marriage?  It’s easy to excuse ourselves.  “That’s just the way I am!”  “We’ve been doing it this way for 10 years!  Too late to change now!”  Really?  And what if “the way you are” or that 10-year-old habit is causing yourself or your spouse pain?  What if it’s limiting an area of your marriage to a walk when you could be running together?  It’s never too late to change your stride!

2)      I am the weaker vessel.

When we started running this spring, we first started running separately.  From the get-go, I ran farther.  And I probably ran faster.  Then B.J. decided we should run together.  At first, I set the pace.  This made sense to me.  I was the “runner,” after all.  B.J. had never cared for running - he’d rather lift weights.  But as time went on, B.J. became the pace-setter (much to my chagrin).  And now, he always finishes first, sometimes way ahead of me, and when his lead is not that great, I can usually tell that he’s holding back.  And so I learned that I am the weaker vessel.  My body is not as strong as his is, not capable of maintaining the speed that he does.

And what about in marriage?  I knew 1 Peter 3:7 when we first married.  Yet, in all honesty, I did not consider myself the weaker vessel.  Who got the higher grades?  Who had the more disciplined habits?  I was sure I did, hands down.  I considered myself more spiritually-minded, too.  More mature.  And all that arrogance on my part made for a rough start.

But ask me now, Who is the weaker vessel, Sarah?  And I will tell you this: I am.  I am quicker to doubt God’s good providence.  I am quicker to fear the future.  For all my devotional-writing and knowledge of God’s Word, I falter in the silliest and most mundane of circumstances.  My husband, on the other hand, encourages me.  He assures me that God’s way is always good, even when I refuse to see anything beyond myself.  When I shut up, he talks me through.  And every night, when I leap into bed, teeth chattering and bone-weary, he pauses at the foot.  Gets down on his knees.  And prays.  For me, I know.  And for all the other people and pressures that ride on his strong shoulders.

3)      It’s still work.

B.J. said it just the other morning as we walked back down 33^rd.  “It’s still work.  I’d thought we’d get to a point where I’d feel like I could just keep on going without any effort, but the same distance we’ve been running for months is still a work out!”  And it’s true.  I feel like quitting a fourth of the way in every time we run.  And I’m always breathless when we’re done.  Neither of us suffer from sore muscles like we did when we started, but it’s still work.

So, too, a healthy marriage requires work.  I think all of us who are married need to remind ourselves of that.  You never reach a point in married life where you can just coast, no effort required.  Not in year one, not in year 10, not in year 55.  Conscious, strenuous effort to build your marriage strengthens it like conscious, strenuous effort strengthens your body. 

4)      We are on the same team.

I admit it: when B.J. started consistently finishing first, I was a little bitter.  But it’s hard to stay bitter when I come gasping to the finish and he’s there waiting for me, squeezing me way too tight when I’ve hardly slowed my pace and am already winded, and wheezing in my ear, “Good job, dear!  Good run!”  Then I remember: this is no competition.  We are on the same team.

I have to remind myself of this when I consider our married life, too.  In this season of our life, my husband has more opportunities for adult conversation than I do.  He gets out of the house every day and has contact with a multitude of people.  I don’t try to be a recluse, but the very nature of my work means that sometimes I’m home for days on end with sick children.  Or lots of laundry.  A house to maintain.  Food to prepare for seven hungry people.  Plus the multitude of time it takes to care for and teach our children, to discipline them, read to them, and help them with their catechism, school work, piano lessons...  Being faithful in my calling doesn’t leave me a lot of time for socializing or for hobbies. Or, to treat another aspect of our married life, physically, the past 10 years for me have been a roller-coaster ride. Just pregnant and nauseous, medium pregnant, very pregnant and lumbering about, enduring labor and delivery, nursing, weaning, hormonal, and then, whee! off for another round.  ;-)  I know that some of you reading can relate to this exactly.  And our husbands merely see it all through a glass, darkly.

Sometimes I can be bitter about these things.  I can be jealous of my husband.  I find myself thinking that his calling is nobler than mine, more desirable, more intellectually stimulating.  That it makes more of an impact.  I’ve resented the fact that physically he simply maintains status quo.

What I forget when I fall into this kind of sinful thinking is this: we are on the same team.    We have the same goal.  And at the same time, I minimize the very serious struggles he faces in his calling, while rendering myself useless to help him since I’m wallowing in my own self-pity.  The Master has given us different positions, yes.  Though very different, both positions are not only honorable, they are necessary in order for us to accomplish our goal.

What is that goal?  It’s a multi-faceted gem, friends.  The main goal is to show forth God's praise.  The facets?  To do so by growing in the grace and knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ as we walk the path of life.  By bringing up the children that He has so graciously given us in the fear of His name.  By painting that picture of Christ and His Bride as beautifully as we are able.  By finishing the race to hear those gracious words, “Well done.”

And whether B.J. finishes first or I, I’m looking forward to the hug when we both reach the end.

 “Good job, dear!  Good run!”