Running Away

This morning, I shocked my husband. I staggered out of the bedroom, laced up my shoes, and declared that I was going for a run. I didn’t even stop to appreciate the look of astonishment on his face as the door swung closed to cut off his startled acknowledgement.

As you can tell, I am not a runner. In fact, at this particular time, the thought of high-impact exercise makes me want to roll over and yawn.

Most mornings, I wake up *more* exhausted than when I went to sleep. I dream intensely and vividly, sometimes lucidly. Usually, they are full of meaningless and complex plot twists, like a Rube Goldberg version of the Matrix. When I’m going through a rough patch, my mind races with thoughts that center on my worries and shortcomings. The dreams may turn to nightmares so intense that I wake up and am afraid to go back to sleep. Either way, sleep is usually not so sweet for me. As you can imagine, I’m not necessarily in the best of moods when I wake up after an all-night marathon. Having small children doing the waking by bouncing into my midsection and demanding my services does not improve the situation. On the morning in question, I had experienced both.

My knee-jerk reaction was to yell at them to leave me alone, then lock myself in and pout until my husband knocked to let me know the baby needed to nurse. (Hey, honesty is the rule around here, right?) But I took a mental step back and instead followed them forward into the kitchen to make my surprising announcement. I don’t know what inspired such a ridiculous decision, but I just need AWAY.

I ran for at least 100 yards. At that point, gasping for air and vowing to get in better shape, I changed my run to an early morning walk. Everything settled into place. Instead of pounding the pavement (well, dirt) to work off my frustration, I opted to take my time and just be present in the morning breeze. I sought out the rest that my troubled night had denied me and soaked up the cool damp air and mountain views.

Sometimes I forget how restorative nature can be. I lost track of time as I hiked up the hill and marveled at the sunflowers blooming across the pasture. I thought about how they stretch up above the surrounding growth to get a clear view of the sky. They follow the sun, disregarding the weeds that spread beneath them, sometimes even sending runners up their stalks. Sunflowers just sway with the breeze, wait for the next rain, and greet every sunrise.

I would like to believe that I have a sunny personality, but I tend to let frustration, confrontations, and general unease just linger in my mind. Their tendrils get a foothold and try to choke out any sign of optimism. An extended period of disrupted sleep makes me especially susceptible to negative thoughts and can trigger a depressive episode. Every time depression crops up again I get discouraged. Surely, I think, by now I should be over this. How many times do I have to crawl back up out of this dark hole? At times, I get so focused on “moving past” this trying season of my life that I forget how valuable it can be to stand strong and bloom where you’re planted.

Quentin L. Cook once offered the following observation:

“One of the remarkable characteristics of young wild sunflowers, in addition to growing in soil that is not hospitable, is how the young flower bud follows the sun across the sky. In doing so, it receives life-sustaining energy before bursting forth in its glorious yellow color. Like the young sunflower, when we follow the Savior of the world, the Son of God, we flourish and become glorious despite the many terrible circumstances that surround us. He truly is our light and life.”

I might not be able to “cure” myself overnight, but I can look to the light every morning. One day at a time, I can choose to rise above whatever is trying to pull me low. I can focus on what brings me joy. Instead of being frustrated at my kids for wanting me at the crack of dawn, I can to appreciate how much I need them to need me, how they give me a greater purpose that pulls me on through my dark times. Instead of dragging through another hectic morning after another sleepless night, I can seek first to replenish my energy through prayer, scripture study, and maybe even the occasional early morning run. Or walk, as the case may be.

Featured Photo Credit: Stock Photo