Running With Tonka

After competing as an athlete all my life, remnants of physicality have worked its way into my identity. My time as an athlete ended a year ago, so my fitness pursuits have taken on a new mindset. Before, any workouts were physical preparation for competition. Now, the goal has shifted.

 

Competition drifts into comparison, and one of my biggest joys became an object of taunt. Seeing myself as an objective athlete was a lot easier than seeing the full humanity I carry. As an athlete, I know my strengths, and I know my weaknesses, and I know how to make my weaknesses my strengths. It is all surface level, so the pain stays there too.

 

Since being on the Race, I have become aware of how I use my physicality to make myself deject from my reality and make myself feel better because if nothing else, I can be successful here.

 

On the same hand, I genuinely love working out. It is a fun time and a beautiful outlet. With this opportunity for weakness is the same capacity for a strength.

 

New understandings of who God created me to be lends me the freedom from who I used to be.

 

Here in Costa Rica, I have stepped into this fully. The first run from the stance of an overflow of joy and not weighty obligation held a lot more revelations than anticipated.

 

Originally, I decided this run was best alone and without headphones. On my way out, I ran past our farm dog, Tonka, and knew I would want him with me. I barely had to call him, and he came along.

 

Ten steps in, God opens my eyes to the beauty that surrounds me. There are rolling, green hills all around, flowers filling every tree, and cows just staring at me. I’m realizing this run isn’t as difficult as I anticipated, and I’m having a great time.

 

Tonka was with me here and there. Every time I looked at him, he had the biggest smile. It is super hot in the jungle, so naturally, Tonka approached this body of water and without hesitation, jumped right in. This slowed me to pay attention to him and respect his simplistic flow.

 

Then, I started to let him lead. I had no idea how long I wanted to run but decided Tonka would turn around when we needed to turn around. He got to that point and started to head back.

 

On the way back, I felt like God wanted me to keep Tonka’s pace, so I did. Sometimes he would run, sometimes he would sway, sometimes he would stop, and most of the time, he walked.

 

This strange pace never caused me to stop following Tonka. I simply enjoyed the journey and respected his leadership. I never stopped and insisted Tonka tell me why he was doing what he was doing.

 

I knew what Tonka looked like, and I followed. God used this as a lesson of what it’s like to follow the Holy Spirit.