Time for tennis shoes

I would much rather wear flip-flops.  They’re just so easy to put on, whereas the tennis shoes require socks and tying laces and all that preparation that us non-exercise people associate with sweat.  I actually do enjoy walking, especially when I meet up with the orange cat down the street, and I did enjoy trimming trees last weekend and shoveling dirt, but I never look forward to sweat dripping in my eyes and down my back.  Yet yesterday I dreaded something even more.  I dreaded my doctor’s appointment because it reminded me that I still had not lost the weight I had intended to lose.  I fare real well for about 3 weeks.  Then invariably it seems the weight hasn’t fallen off fast enough, and I succumb to the temptation “Why bother anymore?”  But on my way home from the doctor yesterday, I determined to restart.  Alas, I will not quit, even if it’s my hundredth attempt!  This aspect of exercise, or the lack thereof, is certainly one of my trials.  It's on the same shelf with the co-worker who challenges our every nerve and the wayward child for whom we grieve.  They’re all situations that stare us down and threaten our well-being.  Some lend widespread angst, and some stay more internal, but they’re all trials.  Yet the Lord loves each soul in the midst of the turmoil, and there’s blessing in store as He fine-tunes and reshapes us through these fires that singe.  And here now I endeavor to begin again.  One of my favorite memories is of a middle school track meet where one hurdler barely stood taller than his hurdles.  This young man approached his first hurdle with great gusto, yet down he fell.  That same gusto took him to the second hurdle, though down he fell again.  Then the crowd began to cringe and shield their faces in anticipation of what might come with the third.  But evidently the pain was more in watching, for rarely do we witness such unabashed intent to run a race that appeared impossible from the start.  This young man’s perseverance brought roars of applause from all ages, even from those who had ridiculed at the start why anyone his size would ever attempt such a race.  We found ourselves wiping away oceans of tears that gushed of admiration, as this young man drew a standing ovation before he ever crossed the finish line.  He had wholeheartedly aimed to jump each and every hurdle, yet proceeding to knock down each and every one, never once appearing defeated.  And it’s to that same perseverance that I aspire, not because my doctor tells me exercise is good or because all the fitness magazines say so, but ultimately because verses such as Hebrews 12 tell me the Lord wants us up and running.  I want Him to be my reason, my incentive.  I’ll keep the flip-flops for later, but I am now walking to the closet to set those tennis shoes in motion.