Finding my lane.

This past weekend, several girlfriends and I attended the Belong conference in St. Paul. The speakers included several powerhouse Christian speakers, including Jen Hatmaker and Shauna Niequist. Good, right? The purpose of the conference was to discuss my purpose. Your purpose. Our purpose. Find your lane and live it well.

Well, honestly, the conference left me feeling a little... aimless. Like, here I am, thirty years old, a wife and mother of 3, and my day-to-day challenges include finding a diaper in my giant mess of a purse, ensuring that my kids eat more than maple syrup and popcorn each day, protecting the sanctity that is nap time, and generally keeping four other humans alive (yes, that includes my husband, and yes, I feel strongly that he both needs and appreciates my help).

It's weird. I'm not unhappy. And I don't want to be anywhere else. It just seems like I need another outlet. I want to do something. Something for me. Something that fills my cup rather than drains it. Don't get me wrong. I love being a mom, I love being home with my kids and I love being the ruler of the roost in the managerial sense. I'm the bill-payer, the meal-maker, the laundry-doer, the activity-planner, and I'm in charge of decor and wardrobe, supplies and schedules. I love organizing our lives and being sure our family runs smoothly.

And right now, my purpose is being a mom and a wife. I know that being a mom won't always be my daily "job," and I'm truly a bit unclear about what things will look like for me when my kids are off to school and don't need me here during the day. In some ways it's unsettling not to know. I love to know what's ahead and I'm comforted by predictability. But I was reminded this weekend that I'm not in charge of outcomes. I'm in charge of obedience. I need focus on taking the next right step.

So what is the next right step? Well, one of the questions in the Belong guidebook that we were asked to fill out was "What if I could do one thing on my wish list? What would it be?" And I didn't have to think hard because one thought came to my mind immediately. And it was stupid. A stupid thought. "Run a half marathon. I want to run a half marathon."

W.T.F?

I hate running. I've always hated running. It's the worst. I'm the worst at it. I legitimately used to fake sick every time we had to run the mile in gym class at school. I actually was sick in some cases because I had so much anxiety. And I swore when I was older and done with gym class forever, I would never run again. Ever.

And, with the exception of a short-lived summer after I had Hunter, I've kept that promise to myself. "I'm just not a runner," I insisted. "Runners are annoying," I complained. "They're fit and disciplined and thin and basically everything that I'm not," I chided.

I thought that telling myself those things was being honest. Brutally honest. Just accepting that it's not who I am. "I barely even run errands," I joked to my friends.

But as I sat there this weekend being encouraged that "If it doesn't challenge you, it doesn't change you," I realized that I joke because I feel incapable. I feel inadequate. And it's really something I'd love to do. Run a half marathon. Because it scares me. Because it's something I've always said I couldn't do. I think it's important that I find a way to prove myself wrong and silence those voices in my head that have always shouted "You're too out of shape, overweight and undisciplined!"

So, I'm going to. I'm going to run a half marathon. Like, for real. I'm going to run more than errands. And I'm going to do it for me, because I've always said I couldn't. So, here goes nothing...