Well. It was a rather innocuous little hipster restaurant.
But, that innocuous little hipster restaurant was the host site of one of the most surprising questions I’ve ever been asked: “Wanna run a marathon?”
You see, my dear friend Rachel was planning to run the Twin Cities Marathon, and she had boldly signed up WITHOUT ANYONE TO RUN WITH (Moment #1 marking her insanity). And so, as we were catching up over plates of hipster food, she explained that really, she just wanted someone to run with. “And Amy, you run, right?”
If you are referring to my daily 3-mile slog through the back roads where no one can see me, then yes. I do run. I plod 3 glorious miles and that’s all the further I’ve ever plodded, thank you very much.
Obviously, her question was Moment #2 marking her insanity. I’m a 5’11” former basketball player and discus thrower who now gets out of breath walking up the campus hill. A marathon? That’s pretty funny! Fredmans don't run marathons.
I don’t know if credit is due to the hipster restaurant for inspiring me…the unique dinner for emboldening me to new things…my friend for her persuasive efforts…or the sheer Fredman Ambition that frequently disillusions me into thinking I can do anything…
But suddenly, I wanted to run a marathon.
The marathon was a completely ludicrous idea. Think about it. 26.2 miles. 4 hours of running, if you did well…6 HOURS if it didn’t go so hot. That’s like an entire Lord of the Rings or almost 5 Gilmore Girls episodes. But instead, YOU’RE RUNNING. (aka NOT WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS.)
Did I even have time to train? Did I have the discipline to train? And what if I let Rachel down? What if I didn’t make it till the end? What if I suffered a severe injury? What if I literally wasn’t made to run a marathon and I somehow developed a disease from training my Fredman self to run a MARATHON?
Obviously, the answer to all of those questions was to simply enter my credit card information and sign up for the Twin Cities Marathon (yes, I paid good money for this insanity).
Oh land. May the force be with me.
I began to train for the marathon, and um…it was sort of hard. In case you were wondering.
In my first attempt at running 8 miles, I tripped on a piece of sidewalk, went plummeting forward, ripped half the skin off my knee, and fainted on the sidewalk. So I had a good time with the fire battalion chief and the paramedics that morning.
For my first 14-miler, I was at an InterVarsity conference site in Michigan, and I planned on running 7 miles into the infinitesimally small town on a Saturday morning, getting water, and running back. Turns out that nothing was open, and I ran 14 miles up and down country hills with no water. Good move, Fredman.
And those terrifying hill workouts? Welcome to sprinting up the formidable Harding-Bracket hill 6 times every Wednesday morning, with my whole face probably looking possessed and angry with every step.
The worst was maybe the 21-mile run where I came back with the worst stomach cramps of my life, as evidenced by the um, awkward colored evidence in the toilet…and proceed to curl up in a ball on my bed, and telling my roommate, “I am never doing this again. EVER. You MUST remind me of this moment RIGHT HERE if I ever think I should do this again. And if I do run a marathon again, it’s ONLY because a boy I like asks me to. So THERE.” (Great logic, Am…)
But it turns out that in the midst of all of that, through the marathon, I learned some of the most poignant and powerful lessons of my short life.
First, I learned more than ever before the value of discipline. For the marathon, I couldn’t afford to be undisciplined. I had to stick to my training schedule, and I did. I had to actually run the marathon – I had paid way too much to quit! And, I had to be thoughtful about caring for my body with eating right and sleeping enough – my body wasn’t going to survive training otherwise.
You see, discipline isn't always my natural life strong suit. I like doing new things, not sticking with old things. I don't stay interested in things for all that long, and I love new "shiny objects." But the marathon taught me the value for my body, mind, and soul in disciplining myself to move forward in a challenging goal - one of the most challenging goals of my life thus far. Thanks, Marathon. You required an annoyingly helpful level of commitment, but I appreciate it.
Second, I learned what it means to keep going when it feels hard. When it hurts. When I’m bored (long runs are so, so boring). When I’m annoyed and just want to quit. Later in training, the worst part of my training runs was between hour 2 and 3. And during that hour, when I was bored silly and in so much pain and my body was screaming at me to STOP NOW, AMY JO FREDMAN, I would tell myself, “Amy, this represents the moment when ministry gets hard. When your marriage isn’t fun. When you are bored with your life. And this represents the moment when you keep going.”
Why was this so important to me? Well, I have an inherent aversion to pain and discomfort (so the personality test gurus tell me), which means that I don't naturally want to push past pain, discomfort, boredom, and challenge. But as we know, our lives are fraught with pain, discomfort, boredom, and challenge. How will I respond? The marathon taught me to respond with commitment and perseverance. So, thanks, Marathon. I appreciated that lesson, too.
But the third, and the most important lesson of it all, came on marathon day...
(And since the actual 2014 Twin Cities Marathon is tomorrow morning, you'll have to wait until tomorrow for a blog post about that :). For my marathon running friends - enjoy tomorrow!)
But, that innocuous little hipster restaurant was the host site of one of the most surprising questions I’ve ever been asked: “Wanna run a marathon?”
You see, my dear friend Rachel was planning to run the Twin Cities Marathon, and she had boldly signed up WITHOUT ANYONE TO RUN WITH (Moment #1 marking her insanity). And so, as we were catching up over plates of hipster food, she explained that really, she just wanted someone to run with. “And Amy, you run, right?”
If you are referring to my daily 3-mile slog through the back roads where no one can see me, then yes. I do run. I plod 3 glorious miles and that’s all the further I’ve ever plodded, thank you very much.
Obviously, her question was Moment #2 marking her insanity. I’m a 5’11” former basketball player and discus thrower who now gets out of breath walking up the campus hill. A marathon? That’s pretty funny! Fredmans don't run marathons.
I don’t know if credit is due to the hipster restaurant for inspiring me…the unique dinner for emboldening me to new things…my friend for her persuasive efforts…or the sheer Fredman Ambition that frequently disillusions me into thinking I can do anything…
But suddenly, I wanted to run a marathon.
The marathon was a completely ludicrous idea. Think about it. 26.2 miles. 4 hours of running, if you did well…6 HOURS if it didn’t go so hot. That’s like an entire Lord of the Rings or almost 5 Gilmore Girls episodes. But instead, YOU’RE RUNNING. (aka NOT WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS.)
Did I even have time to train? Did I have the discipline to train? And what if I let Rachel down? What if I didn’t make it till the end? What if I suffered a severe injury? What if I literally wasn’t made to run a marathon and I somehow developed a disease from training my Fredman self to run a MARATHON?
Obviously, the answer to all of those questions was to simply enter my credit card information and sign up for the Twin Cities Marathon (yes, I paid good money for this insanity).
Oh land. May the force be with me.
I began to train for the marathon, and um…it was sort of hard. In case you were wondering.
In my first attempt at running 8 miles, I tripped on a piece of sidewalk, went plummeting forward, ripped half the skin off my knee, and fainted on the sidewalk. So I had a good time with the fire battalion chief and the paramedics that morning.
For my first 14-miler, I was at an InterVarsity conference site in Michigan, and I planned on running 7 miles into the infinitesimally small town on a Saturday morning, getting water, and running back. Turns out that nothing was open, and I ran 14 miles up and down country hills with no water. Good move, Fredman.
And those terrifying hill workouts? Welcome to sprinting up the formidable Harding-Bracket hill 6 times every Wednesday morning, with my whole face probably looking possessed and angry with every step.
The worst was maybe the 21-mile run where I came back with the worst stomach cramps of my life, as evidenced by the um, awkward colored evidence in the toilet…and proceed to curl up in a ball on my bed, and telling my roommate, “I am never doing this again. EVER. You MUST remind me of this moment RIGHT HERE if I ever think I should do this again. And if I do run a marathon again, it’s ONLY because a boy I like asks me to. So THERE.” (Great logic, Am…)
But it turns out that in the midst of all of that, through the marathon, I learned some of the most poignant and powerful lessons of my short life.
First, I learned more than ever before the value of discipline. For the marathon, I couldn’t afford to be undisciplined. I had to stick to my training schedule, and I did. I had to actually run the marathon – I had paid way too much to quit! And, I had to be thoughtful about caring for my body with eating right and sleeping enough – my body wasn’t going to survive training otherwise.
You see, discipline isn't always my natural life strong suit. I like doing new things, not sticking with old things. I don't stay interested in things for all that long, and I love new "shiny objects." But the marathon taught me the value for my body, mind, and soul in disciplining myself to move forward in a challenging goal - one of the most challenging goals of my life thus far. Thanks, Marathon. You required an annoyingly helpful level of commitment, but I appreciate it.
Second, I learned what it means to keep going when it feels hard. When it hurts. When I’m bored (long runs are so, so boring). When I’m annoyed and just want to quit. Later in training, the worst part of my training runs was between hour 2 and 3. And during that hour, when I was bored silly and in so much pain and my body was screaming at me to STOP NOW, AMY JO FREDMAN, I would tell myself, “Amy, this represents the moment when ministry gets hard. When your marriage isn’t fun. When you are bored with your life. And this represents the moment when you keep going.”
Why was this so important to me? Well, I have an inherent aversion to pain and discomfort (so the personality test gurus tell me), which means that I don't naturally want to push past pain, discomfort, boredom, and challenge. But as we know, our lives are fraught with pain, discomfort, boredom, and challenge. How will I respond? The marathon taught me to respond with commitment and perseverance. So, thanks, Marathon. I appreciated that lesson, too.
But the third, and the most important lesson of it all, came on marathon day...
(And since the actual 2014 Twin Cities Marathon is tomorrow morning, you'll have to wait until tomorrow for a blog post about that :). For my marathon running friends - enjoy tomorrow!)