One time in college, I did something really brave. 

I went on a group run. 

Yes, you read that correctly. I went running in a large pack of people.

Here’s how the craziness began:

One of my dear friends, Laura, managed a group on campus called Fitness + Fellowship, which grew from a few people who liked to run together into a ministry of its own over a few years. Probably because she is charming and kind and you can hardly say no to any sweet question that comes out of her mouth. 

So there I was, one spring morning at 6:30 a.m., stretching and twisting my arms and shoulders—you know the stretch, right? The one where you try to look like you know what you’re doing before you start running, twisting your shoulders and back from side to side? I looked to my left and to my right, and before I knew it, we were off. Running from SMU’s flagpole to the Katy Trail. 

Here’s the deal with my relationship with running. When I trained for competitive tennis growing up, I’d sprint almost every day—short bursts or long series of busting it from one side of the court to the other, then back again. This was my thing, my weekly, daily workout. And as painful as they could be in the moment, I loved the quick nature of sprints. Similar to ripping off a bandaid, sprints were over before you could register they had even started. 

But long-distance running? Running in a straight line with no end in sight? That didn’t go too well for me, for one primary (and legitimate) reason. After so many years of sprinting on paved and painted concrete, I developed nasty shin splints. The high impact of my feet hitting the ground over and over wasn’t only uncomfortable—it was painful.

It still is. I don’t run to this day. While I love working out and exercising and moving my body, I get my cardio in by other means (thank you, studio cycling). 

But for some reason, on that spring morning, I shoved my shin splints aside and hit the ground running, quite literally. 

What shocked me wasn’t the fact I was running (although it was a bit of an out-of-body experience), but the fact Laura was talking to me… while we were running. And she wasn’t asking casual questions—she wanted to know how I was doing, how life was, what I was learning, etc. I’m not sure what came out of my mouth at that moment other than wheezing, but my mind was screaming, Girl, I can hardly breathe over here, let alone think!

I had not so much as run three consecutive miles in my life, let alone with other people, let alone while having an in-depth conversation. (If this is how you connect with people, I want to applaud you. I celebrate you. I envy you. I want to be you. You are a running powerhouse, and you should be proud.)

So there I was, hanging on by a thread, panting to keep up in the back (as in, the actual caboose) of the group. My only hope was that I could see the trail just ahead of us. Oh good, we’re about to turn around, I thought. 

Except when we got to the trail, someone yelled, “Okay, start your watches, everyone!”

What! Start?!

Between my shins starting to scream, my lungs desperately gasping for air, and the shock that our running up to that point had been a “warm-up,” I was tapped out. I told Laura I had a great time so far, but that would be the conclusion of my contribution that morning. I was going to walk back to my dorm. 

My steps slowed and I turned around, headed back toward campus.

This story still makes me laugh today, mostly because of how gracious Laura handled my 5th-grade running abilities, but also because it reveals something insightful to my life as a young woman. I think it may encourage you, too. 

We are all running at different paces. And if we’re honest, not all of us are running (my hand is clearly raised). Some of us are biking, crawling, walking, skipping, dancing forward on the journey and life God has laid before us. In some seasons, even just staying standing is a victory. And sometimes the best thing to keep us from going backward is to sit down and rest. Chasing our goals, dreams, and callings looks different for everyone. We are all running at different paces—we are all growing at different paces. And today, I want to look into your eyes and tell you from my heart to yours, that this is okay.  

No matter what season of life you’re in, no matter how many laps around the sun you’ve taken—if you are reading this—you are growing. God is not done with any of us. We will continue to grow and heal and blossom all the days of our lives if we’re open to it. How wonderful is that—is He!

Understanding the fact we’re all growing at different rates is one thing, but living and celebrating it is another. So how do we do it, as best and surrendered as possible? How do we run the race before us—the one uniquely crafted for us—at our own pace, when it feels like people want to drag us down or force us to speed up?

I don’t have all the answers, but Proverbs 4:27 seems like a good place to start. Not looking to the right or to the left, not looking at how fast the people around us are going—even the people we love dearly. But rather, looking straight ahead at the work, goals, and people God has put in our lives. The unique, handcrafted, personally written work, goals, and people God has put in our lives. 

Again, easier said than done. But when I think about running my race, about managing, stewarding, and tending to the things God has gifted me, I realize that this requires focus. I have to get so obsessed about and grateful for what He’s given me—not focusing on what He’s seemed to withhold, because we know He withholds no good things from His children—that I don’t even bother to look around. How do we do that? Some helpful practices for me:

1. Practice gratitude. Write down 10+ things we’re grateful for before bed every single night. It sounds really simple, but I challenge you to try it for 30 days. It just might change your life, or at least, your perspective. 

2. Write + hide post-it notes for yourself. Choose a word, a verse, or a prayer you don’t want to forget. One you’re passionate about. And put it where you can’t miss it. You’re guaranteed to be reminded of this throughout your days—bringing your focus back to your race. Not the person to your right or left. 

3. Limit social media. This sounds too obvious. But again, I challenge you to try it for 30 days. It’s amazing how much space and movement God can create when we’re not scrolling through other people’s lives. The extra 30 minutes we would be scrolling on Instagram can be spent on what God is doing in our lives today. 

4. Celebrate friends. While it seems counterintuitive, living in freedom from comparison gives us the capacity to celebrate the victories of the people we love with more vigor. Whether they’ve accomplished something we wish we could say we accomplished or it’s a goal so far outside of our dreams and desires, celebrating others’ victories reminds us we are all on our own paths, moving forward at different paces. 

I hope you know that your journey—and your pace—is not an accident. It’s not random. And you are not an accident or random, either. God knows what He’s doing. 

As we start this new calendar year, dream a little bit about where you’d like to go. Ask God where He’s leading you, and get excited about the life-changing detours He has planned along the way. It’s going to be beautiful, even if it feels slow, hard, or stagnant. If you’re journeying with Jesus, you’re always journeying forward. I’m so excited to see where He leads us this year. Let’s go, 2022!