My original plan was to go to the gym but since running on the treadmill is a verifiable form of torture for me, I opted instead to go for a run outside. This weekend, I ran the same course with horrible results. My right knee, which I have named "Juanita" (pun intended), did not cooperate and I ended up walking quite a bit. I wasn't sure what to expect this morning, but my knee held up great and I was able to run all 4.6 miles without stopping to walk. Since I was feeling good, I pushed myself to try to maintain an 8 minute mile pace the entire way.
As I was laboring along, the Lord reminded me of the principle of comparisons. To my friends who run at a 10 or 11 minute mile pace, I'm a super fast runner. But to real athletes who are actually good at running, the 8 minute mile pace that I've worked for 3 1/2 years to achieve, is a snail's pace. On my best day, they could beat me with one hand tied behind their back. It's all relative.
Comparisons are never good. They either give us an inflated and false sense of pride or they tear down our self esteem. So what's a girl to do? Once again, I found myself, flawed and broken, at the foot of the cross. Amazed that my Jesus would see all of me and still love me enough to shed His blood in my place. And I felt the Lord whisper to me, "Don't compare. Just be you. I created you. I gave you a purpose. I gave you gifts and abilities. What are you doing to use those gifts and abilities to bring me glory?"
I'll be meditating on that for the rest of my day and I won't compare myself to the other moms whose kids made it to the bus in one piece without running or tears.