Last fall, after a two-year hiatus from running, I woke up on a sunny morning and laced up my sneakers.

I made my way to the track, brimming with optimism and an updated playlist for running. The sun’s rays beamed down on me, providing an extra layer of warmth. I felt a surge of energy as my feet hit the pavement. Anticipation and excitement simmered within as I reminisced about my running days in Illinois, and how much I missed them.

You got this! The voice of hope whispered. Yeah. I got this! I whispered back.

But my motivational pep talk waned as I forged ahead, panting and nearly gasping for air. Labored breathing. Racing heartbeat. Tight chest. Time to stop. My eyes widened when I checked my stopwatch.

Forty-five seconds? What a disappointment! What a waste of time! You’re never going to be able to run like before.

And, just like that, I allowed pessimism to replace the voice of hope. I trudged to my car, sulking and deeply disappointed. (Confession: I may have stopped by Dunkin’ Donuts on the way home to rid the bitter aftertaste of failure with a sweet treat.)

On the drive home, I expressed my disappointment and frustration to God, wondering how it was possible that I could fail this attempt at running when, just earlier that week, I dreamt I was effortlessly running around an outdoor track.

Still, I woke up with a renewed hope that I’d return to my former days — regularly running three miles, finishing my first 8K, completing my longest run at 12 miles, and training for the Chicago marathon. But all that changed when COVID-19 (then followed by long-COVID) symptoms brought my running to a halt in 2021.

I hung up my running shoes, but still told myself I’d get back there one day. I even told my friend that I would speak it by faith. I wrote the declaration in my prayer journal, though I didn’t fully believe it in my heart. I know the Bible says “faith without works is dead,” yet, still, I had tucked my sneakers into the back of the closet, watching them accumulate dust, week after week. This thing that I once enjoyed had become too daunting — the process felt like starting over. And, let’s be honest, beginning again isn’t always fun. Instead, it feels like a glaring reminder of suboptimal circumstances — a reality we never asked for.

Starting over in any area of our lives can feel overwhelming, but, truly, we don’t ever really restart from scratch because the experience, knowledge, and wisdom gained on our journey will always propel us on our journey.

Starting over is a courageous act that requires faith — and it’s okay to begin again. Sometimes, it’s even necessary.

I was reminded of this when I joined a running club recently and selected the beginner group. During the one-minute running intervals, I struggled to silence the critical voice about my slow pace. I silently prayed for God to help me. I didn’t want to focus on how I felt . . . I needed a fresh perspective.  

After pushing myself to sprint uphill for the last minute of our session, the running coach sidled up beside me and complimented my form, saying, “I can see you as a long distance runner. Just be patient. You don’t want to get ahead of yourself and risk injury. You’ll get there soon enough.”

Her comment snapped me out of my trance. Though I was fixated on my current pace, she looked beyond and saw a long-distance runner. Her words challenged me. Why was I rushing the process? My coach saw my potential from afar — and I needed to do the same. I needed to believe that I could build endurance and increase my stamina.

I needed to extend grace to myself.

That’s how our Creator sees His children. God doesn’t hold us hostage to our past or compare who we are today to who we were yesterday. God sees us as the person He created us to be before He laid the foundations of the earth. He sees us ahead of time.

When we’re struggling while running the race of life, barely catching our breath, winded while climbing steep hills, God never changes His mind about us based on our performance. He is our Ultimate Coach — strengthening our feeble arms for the journey, propelling us forward through fatigue, quenching our thirst, and nourishing our weary souls.

When life happens and we want to give up, He reminds us who we are from His lens. We just need to trust the Coach and exercise patience with ourselves during the process — even if it means beginning again.  

Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.
Isaiah 40:31

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