i've won.

The hard pavement feels like a punch with every step. The hill's steepness taunts me and tries to steal my breath. But what really tempts me to quit are the accusations that follow me: "You're going so slow. You're not getting anywhere. This must be your worst effort ever." 
I cried the whole run (the whole run), letting that doubt and discouragement sneak into so many areas of my heart.
I cried until I finished. And I noticed something. I finished the "terrible" run only to discover that my time had gotten faster. Huh. 
I started looking more closely at the pieces of my life where negative thoughts tried to trip me up and I found that the same principle applied. In the moments when I want to give up, when I feel weak and exhausted, when I think I can't do it... I'm often getting stronger. 
We're not tired because we're failing. We're tired because we're fighting. 
We're not weary because we're weak. We're weary because we're winning a fierce battle. 
We're not struggling because we're quitters. We're struggling because we're refusing to give up. 
So I'm slowly learning to respond differently. When fear or doubt or insecurity rears it's head, I try to tell myself something like, "This must mean I'm running this race harder and faster than ever before." 
Even if it doesn't feel like it in this moment, in this conversation, in this decision. I am running. I am running hard and fast. and I am doing well. 
Let's not allow ourselves to be convinced we should give up because we think we're not doing well enough. Instead let's recognize the strain and pain for what they are: signs of growth. Resistance usually means we are breaking through what has held us back and choosing to push forward with all our might for what God has for us. 
I've come to love and hate the phenomenon that somewhere in the place between what is comfortable and what feels like it may kill us is where we become all that we were created to be. 
I finished my run. My time was better. 
I'm not taking that victory, or any of the others, lightly. I fought for every teeth-gritting second of it. I'm covered in sweat, smell terrible, and probably looked about as graceful as a crazed monkey by my last step. But I didn't quit. And I didn't die. In this world, that's the best we can do some days. 
The crowd of accusers, of doubters, and discouragers? We can silence them. We can speak out. 
I face the path behind me. The path where I ran, the path of my childhood, the path of my education, the path of disappointment and shame. 
I face that path and declare to all the lies that tried to stop me, tried to stand in my way, "I'm stronger than I seem." 
Then I turn on my heels and walk away. 
I've won for today.         
XOXO