Miraculous

I believe in miracles.  No coincidences, no happenstance, but real, undeniable miracles.  

A couple of years ago I hurt my knee running.  It was feeling increasingly stiff and painful, but like any logical person, I kept running on it.  One day, I knelt down to get something off the bottom shelf of the lazy susan, and I couldn't get back up again.  Oof.

I've spent the last year or so trying to rehab my knee and get back to running.  It's been slow-going and I haven't really been able to run successfully on it without painful consequences.  My sissy was putting together a relay team to run the "To Bone and Back" relay in Idaho right before the 4th of July.  8 people, 5 miles each. She invited me to run and I desperately wanted to join. I gave an excited and emphatic, "Yes!" to the invitation.

And then I started training.  It went poorly.  I would run, have to recover for a week, run, recover for 2 weeks; I was making no progress.  I was feeling like I probably wouldn't be able to do the race.  I knew I needed to rest and strengthen my knee before I could run successfully.  I looked at the calendar and chose my drop-dead day to make a decision - the last day to begin a training schedule and still be ready for the race.  Then I started praying for a miracle.

Decision day arrived and I went out bright and early for a run to test my ol'body out. It hurt.  Badly.  I knew I wouldn't be able to do the relay.  I felt defeated, disappointed, angry.  As I was limping back toward home, I felt tears well in my eyes.  I had really wanted to do it and I was sad.  Moments later, a calm washed over me and I heard distinctly in my mind, "You will run the race."  I knew without any doubt that God was answering my prayers. 

I began training the next day.  It went mostly well - my knee was painful but not unbearable.  My pace had slowed tremendously, but I was running.  My goal for race day was to finish my 5 miles in 55 minutes and to have my knee hold up.  There would be hills and a dramatic elevation gain for me from my home at sea level, so I also wanted to be able to breathe.

Seems reasonable. 

Let me tell you about the relay.  It was my sissy and her family, my brother, and my 2 buddies from high school.  Our team name was Legs Miserables.  We laughed, cheered each other on, got sunburned, cranked the music all the way up, accidentally left Lewie at an exchange point while he was in the port-a-potty, and had the best day you can imagine.  

It was everything I wanted.

And my leg of the relay?  My knee had zero pain.  Not one little niggle.  I could breathe like I was at sea level, and I finished 3 minutes faster than my goal.

I haven't been able to run since.  Not one little bit.  I know without any doubt that my prayers were answered. 

Did it matter in the long run if I ran the relay?  No.  But it was important to me, so it was important to God.  I know that He propelled me through the race that day.  

I believe in miracles.