Finding My Child

Don't think I have ever been so tired. Last night, I am not sure if I was awake when my head hit the pillow. Glad I had removed the toothbrush from my mouth before I cratered. But sleep was fitful, and all night I dreamed or thought or something, that I am quiting this Ironman thing: yeah, first thing in the morning. I have just had it. I am exhausted, it will be hot; very hot. My running is so far behind. My knee isn't any better. Why go on? Four o'clock in the morning I am awake, still ready to quit. Lying there I remembered a sermon I had heard by Charles Stanley in which he said when you first wake up, pray for wisdom for the day. No matter how laid out your plans are, you really never know how the day will turn out. I prayed. While having coffee, I looked outside to the moonlit pasture where my granddaughter had been running a couple days ago. She is only four but she was running all around, back and forth, back and forth for many minutes. So, I had asked her what she was doing. She told me she likes to run and likes to get exercise. She is going to run every day, she told me. Wonder where she picked all that up? This morning a storm was supposed to come in so I decided to run early. Just get in a couple of easy miles before the weather goes bad. Strange but running felt better than it had recently. The motion was smoother; the pain less. Breathing a little harder seemed like fun instead of work: surprisingly, I was into it. I found myself like my granddaughter; just running for the joy of it, to feel the movement. I had found my child, and the wisdom to carry the day.