Stinky and exhausted

I hate working out. I've become more diligent about doing it anyway, but man I hate working out. Generally in the rest of my life I try to avoid activities that cause me to become stinky and exhausted.

In the past year I have started to discover a little more, um, me than was here in previous years. I'm pretty sure that that's because I have been devoting most all of my "free" time to studying and writing papers for school. I think I'm also battling the fact that I'm a couple of years past 30 and while I'm perfectly content with that fact, my body is rebelling. My fat cells are unifying with a, "Heck no, we won't go" sort of mentality.

I also stopped drinking diet soda (and trying to avoid artificial sweeteners altogether). While I know that this was a good decision for me, finding "alternative" beverages that aren't full of real sugar either has been a challenge. Most people say to me, "well, water is a pretty good alternative." What these well meaning people don't realize is that I used to drink at least 64 oz of water per day in addition to the crazy amounts of soda I pumped into myself. SO, any time I choose something that has no artificial sweeteners in it and isn't water, it generally has at least 10-20 calories in it, and those are 10-20 calories that I didn't used to have in my diet. Are you understanding my issue here?

So, to counter-act these facts, I've begun trying to find a workout that I don't hate. A couple of months ago, I started going for regular 2 mile (with steep hills) walks. That has been great (and good for countering anxiety, by the way), but it's not a real aggressive exercise regiment. But lately I've gotten a little more gutsy... I had heard about a workout on some podcast that really had nothing to do with health-- this exercise idea was just an idea in passing conversation. I have dubbed this activity: "the torture walk". Yes, it bites. Yes, I hate doing it. But for some reason, I find myself willing to go and do it again a day or two later.

"The torture walk" works like this: After stretching, I start off with five minutes of just good, brisk walking. Then I begin a cycle consisting of 30 seconds of running as hard as I can, followed by 2 minutes of brisk walking. What makes this a bit more torturous (and probably a more effective workout) is that I'm still using the same route that I used to use for walking, which has a couple of mild inclines, but one very large hill. My second "run like a mad person" interval is generally at the base of this hill. My third running spree gets me to the crest. I hate that one passionately.

So, even though I come home completely sweaty and wiped out, I feel good that I've had the sun on my shoulders and have enjoyed listening to a podcast of my choosing. Oh yeah, and I think my muscles are starting to wake up. Plus, the "I'm making good decisions for my body" feeling is pretty darn great.

Striving and waiting.

I hesitate to write this because I'm not sure that there's a lot of "redeeming" quality here. I'm having a day of self-doubt and second-guessing. I resonate King Solomon when he said,

"All things are full of weariness;

         a man cannot utter it;
    the eye is not satisfied with seeing,

        nor the ear filled with hearing.

What has been is what will be,

         and what has been done is what will be done,         and there is nothing new under the sun."

     (Ecclesiastes 1:9)

Even as I write that out, however, I battle in my soul. Solomon wrote those things because he was striving to experience everything that the world has to offer. In the end, he came to the conclusion that he wanted to share with his son: "The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. For God will bring every deed into judgment, with every secret thing, whether good or evil" (Ecclesiastes 12:13-13). I'm already there-- my life is a striving after the heart of God. I long to be able to "discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect" (Romans 12:2b), and I know that that can only come by letting my mind be transformed into the mind of Christ over time by submission through the working of the Holy Spirit.

This afternoon feels a bit like a failure. I know that that's not true, but it's tough to get past the fact that I feel like every instinct I have today is wrong. I can't be the only one who feels like this occasionally. I'd really like to just climb into bed and watch a good movie, but I'm too edgy to enjoy much of anything and have no idea what I'd want to watch anyway. Don't I sound like a barrel of fun?

A recurring life-theme of the past couple of weeks is that I wish that God wouldn't let me make decisions. Or better yet, I wish he'd flat-out tell me what decisions will be best for me and then allow me to decide if that's the way I'd like to go or not. But I don't think that God works like that. I think that the Holy Spirit definitely leads me--Solomon observed that "A man’s heart plans his way, But the Lord directs his steps" (Proverbs 16:9)--but I don't think that that means that he tells me everything that I should do. I get to choose what kind of toothpaste I'll use each day. Could God direct me toward a specific toothpaste? Of course. But does he? Well, I've certainly never felt let by him for decisions like that, but that doesn't mean it doesn't happen, I guess.

I need to be more patient. I have definitely not learned how to be patient when there's a decision looming and I haven't sensed a direction given by God yet. I am not sure if he'll tell me exactly what to do, but I do know that I can ask him for wisdom. The Bible says that that's a prayer that'll be answered (James 1:5). Of course, as I went to look that verse up I saw the ones right before it: "Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing" (James 1:2-4). 

The testing of my faith produces steadfastness. Ugh. OK, Father-- I'm game. But please help those around me to be patient while I go through this incredibly moody period of time. And PLEASE help me to snap out of it.

Senses and Shadows

The most challenging days are those that seem to perpetually exist within shadows.

Surely there is sunlight. I should be able to see it, and I can almost taste the blue sky…

Almost.

Sounds seem muted on days like today. In fact, all of the senses seem to be a little bit dull, except for the sense of touch. That sense seems to be very much alive. Not that it is experiencing anything. In fact, it seems worse that this sense is alive because it is in longing. It is in mourning. The whole body aches because it misses the feeling of feeling.

So, do those shadows exist? or is it the fog hanging so close before my eyes? Am I really feeling pain? or is it merely the phantom ache of wanting?

I find myself wanting to retreat further, counterproductively wrapping a cocoon around myself, hoping to emerge differently. But if I didn’t come out different last time, why keep expecting it to happen today? The pain in my shoulders feels like the strain of too much work, but it is heavier than even that. It is the pain of weariness. It is a strain crafted through much labor in solitude.

“Come to me…”

Your voice is real, but on the other side of nothing. I hear your voice and trust the sincerity, but do not know how to accept. Not today. Today I am tired. Too tired to reach out a hand to accept the help.

My prayer today is in desolation. I hardly know how to look up, but trust that rest will be found and comfort will be discovered because I can dream enough to remember that it is real. Tonight my slumber will be heavy and in writing out this morose chronicle a sliver of hope has been recalled. It has been memorized, committed to memory. Although it exists in a far off corner it is mine, it has been mine. It has been owned through much trial and over many dusty roads. A weary hope, but genuine. Suffering, to endurance, to character, to hope. Oh God, keep me in the character of prostrate soul, in hope. Hope will take another step when I feel that I cannot. Your power for my weakness.