I had to make a choice. It was time for my daily walk. The sun was shining and the temperature was mild, but dark clouds loomed in the west. They were coming my way fast. I could stop, avoid the risk and stay in but that would require missing this life-giving, soul-cleansing, spirit-boosting exercise that I prioritize nearly every day.
I took the risk and began going east with words of wisdom and motivation playing in my ears. I scanned the horizons and watched the clouds. I increased my pace. As I turned onto a different street and faced west, I could see it coming. Charcoal gray clouds rolling my way. I felt the first drops of rain. Should I push on or head home before it begins? I push on.
I’ve committed, so I head south for a bit. The sun has slipped behind the clouds while my back was turned. The gps voice lady interrupts my thoughts to tell me that I’ve reached the one mile point and confirms that I am walking faster than I have been lately. The sprinkles have turned into a steady drizzle as I make my turn back north.
My eyes dart back to the west and see that the dark clouds are getting closer. I had better move faster. I step up the pace a little more. So do the rain drops. An internal debate rages. When I get to the end of this street, I can cut it short and go back home, or I can keep going. I know it’s going to get worse. I know that. I can see that. But I’m nearly at the point of no return – turn right, cut it short and go to the safety of home or turn left and walk towards the storm.
I so love my walks. The most benefits come from consistency. Consistency includes some levels of pain and discomfort occasionally. I choose the storm. I walk toward it. The rain gets harder. The impending storm has changed my focus. Instead of looking around and enjoying God’s beauty, I’m acutely aware of my need to move quickly. The gps voice marks my second mile and informs me that my pace is a full minute faster than the first mile.
As I begin mile three, I can feel my socks and feet getting wet. In fact, as I think about it, my clothes have become wet. I can feel them getting heavier as they get wetter. Keep moving I say to myself as I use my wet sleeve to wipe my face. Is that sweat or rain? I don’t know. In the rain, I can no longer tell the difference. Somewhere there is a lesson in that, but I can’t think about that right now.
I protect my face and eyes by focusing on my feet. One step at a time. Over and over. I don’t think about past steps or future steps, only the next one. Over and over. I’ve got one last temptation for a shortcut home. I won’t quit now. I walk on by and mentally congratulate myself for continuing to choose to walk in spite of the circumstances.
I round a curve and face the storm for one last stretch. It’s nearly over top of me. The wind has picked up. It’s difficult to walk into it. It’s heavy. I don’t know exactly what this storm will bring, but it is definitely about to pour. The rain is hard enough now that it stings my face if I look up. My clothes are soaked.
I’m pushing hard as I make my final turn toward the house. I briefly debate running this stretch, as I often do. A sore hip reminds me of why I’ve chosen to rest it from running for a few days. So I keep walking. All the way home.
I get to the refuge of my front porch and three-mile tally about one minute before it started pouring rain. I stood there for a minute, dripping wet and watching it pour, thinking about how that walk parallels life in so many ways. Or at least what I know of life. We’re all going to have to walk through some storms – some of them roll through like the rain while others are more like finding your way through the woods.
What I’ve learned from my storms is that the only way to get through is to keep going. Focusing on taking one step at a time is enough. That will get us all the way through. Grit helps. Consume the right types of motivation. Putting our heads down and protecting ourselves from the stings coming from all around us is sometimes a necessary part of the journey, but we must keep going.
The front door opened and brought me back to reality. My husband handed me a towel and went back inside. I stood there another couple of minutes while drying my face and hands. How fortunate we are that all storms have an end.
I went inside to get cleaned up knowing that although I got soaking wet, I beat the worst of it. The walk and reminder were worth the effort.
