I won't forget

Sometimes insanity and amazing go hand-in-hand.

This weekend was certainly one of those times.

I took part in the Texas Independence Relay, which is a 200-mile race that starts in Gonzales and ends at the San Jacinto Monument in Houston. There are 40 total legs and 12 people to each team, which makes for a lot of running and a lot of great memories. I don't care how trite this sounds: it really was one of the greatest weekends ever.

Fists up!

I learned so many things this weekend, one of them being how much your body can handle and how much you can actually do even when you think you can't. During my first leg of the race, I really wanted to stop. It was nearly 80 degrees, I was running all alone on a long road that I thought would never end, and my legs were tired from sitting in the Suburban (which we kept calling a van for some reason, so I will be calling it a van from here on out). I can't tell you how many negative thoughts were going through my mind, especially after I saw my first mile split and realized I had gone out way too fast. I knew the next miles wouldn't be as pretty.

But something made me keep going—my team was counting on me.

I was in a van with five guys (the other van had two girls and four guys), and my van was also my support crew during my runs to help if I needed water or anything else, such as Taylor Swift music at each mile. So, during the brutal temps and pain I was feeling in the first leg, I knew that each time my Garmin beeped another lap split, my trusty fellas would be alongside the road, dancing to T-Swizzle and offering me water and words of encouragement. I don't care how cheesy I sound, but it made my heart smile when the rest of me was frowning.

And I will never be able to hear "I Knew You Were Trouble" (the wrong song on repeat) without thinking of this memory. Ever.

After I finished that leg, I had no idea how I was supposed to run two more times in the hours to come and at the paces I needed to. There was no way—my body just wouldn't be able to handle it.

But it's amazing what can happen when you have others with you in times of trial.

After seeing my teammates run their legs, traveling alongside them in the vans, cheering with them at every exchange and along some of the legs, and just being in their constant presence for such a long period of time, I forgot that my body was hurt and that I wasn't getting any sleep. And, when it came time for me to run again, the negativity was something of the distant past, and all I could focus on was catching people. Each blinking light or reflective vest was just another person I needed to pass for my team.

And it didn't seem so hard anymore.

I love these people.

There's something special about the bond people form when they come together with one goal in mind, and the selflessness they give for each other is more than admirable. It's Becky giving me her jacket when I was shivering in the blistering winds waiting for my last leg to start; it's Goño being one of the most encouraging and energetic people I've ever met—even to a random woman running at Memorial Park; it's Craig not complaining once about all of the driving he had to do and saying, "Yes, of course" anytime anyone asked him for a favor; it's Logan finishing his amazingly fast runs and immediately caring about and asking how others were feeling right when he's finished...and offering to adjust everyone; it's Pfiffy laughing and smiling at everyone, then immediately entering beast mode and running until he puked (literally); it's Kiran cheering at every single stop, giving water to each of his teammates, not issuing one single complaint, and being my cameraman when needed; it's Disco running one of the strongest legs anyone could run on a foot he couldn't even walk on when the race finished; it's Josh not only strategically planning out the entire race but also stepping in to run a leg he wasn't supposed to when an obstacle presented itself; it's Liz driving, fighting off dogs, cheering, providing shower gel, coming up with genius ideas, and being a constant ball of energy that was highly contagious to everyone else; it's Ryan spending the weekend with 11 people he didn't know and running ridiculously fast paces each time he laced up his shoes; it's Evan doing whatever he was asked and saying, "Hey, I'm here for you" and actually meaning it—like when he paid for my $5 donation to Brazos High; it's the Dolls 'n Towel Boyz showing the world that winning doesn't come in the form of self ambition but instead in the form of sacrificing yourself for the love of your teammates.

I never would have thought that a weekend involving a Porta Potty count that is too ridiculously high to keep track of, a mere 20-30 minutes of "sleep" on a gym floor, and not remember what a real shower felt like or when the last time I brushed my teeth was would be something I would voluntarily do, but I can honestly say I would do it again in a heartbeat. These are the memories that make life truly special, and these are the people who make it all worth it.

Truth be told, my teammates are not only some of the most amazing runners and people you will ever meet, but they are all absolutely insane.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Peculiar treasures

Sometimes there are people who enter into your life and impact it in ways you didn't think possible.

And you never want to lose those people.

They are peculiar treasures.

And it seems like they usually quite literally come out of nowhere. A few years ago, I was still learning what it meant to be an adult and live on my own (actually, I think that's more of an ongoing process), and I had recently started running more and was becoming more familiar with some of the faces in the running community. Then, at a random sand volleyball party one afternoon, one of the guys I didn't know well but had seen at a couple of races began chatting with me and said I should come join some of his friends and him sometime for a run in Dallas. It wasn't an official group, he said, but just some people who love to run. I was intimidated, because I knew who most of his training buddies were, and I was quite aware that they were all fast. Really fast. But, for some weird reason, I thought I would try it out.

And my life changed forever.

I will never forget my first experience with these people. It was a warm and humid morning, and we were doing a run on the Katy Trail. Now, I had met a few of them before, but I definitely didn't know them well, and they didn't know much about me.

But they learned something pretty quickly.

As soon as we got on the trail, a hopper (the green amphibian spawn of Satan) went across our path. I had somewhat of a panic attack. I am afraid of one thing in life, and it happens to be this demonic creature. I hadn't planned on letting my new friends know about this the first time I spent time with them, but I guess life happens sometimes. There were multiple other hoppers out this morning, and my fellow redhead, Jen, mentioned that she usually never sees them on the Katy.

I've always known those things are out to get me.

Rather than treating me like a psycho girl with a strange fear (I don't think it's weird, but most people I know do), these people started warning me each time they saw a hopper, and Jen even offered to be my "hopper protector." All I kept thinking was, "Who are these people, and why are they being so nice to me?" I couldn't figure it out.

But now I know—they are peculiar treasures.

And now, three years later, these are some of my best friends—people who have been there with me through some of the best and some of the hardest miles (both literal and figurative) of life.

It's these kinds of people who make everything in life better.

I can't say I was thrilled about going to the parade in Dallas on Saturday—I am not a huge fan of parades, and I really don't like being caught in massive crowds of people. But the people with me that day made me almost completely forget that there were thousands of others around us, because we were having such a good time in our own little world. I remember looking at them as they were catching various things being thrown in the parade but then sharing them with one another (like when Laz gave Kristi a silver necklace, because she had been waiting for that color), and I thought to myself, "They're all peculiar treasures."

And it's true.

Peculiar treasures are in our lives in many ways: they're the friends from your childhood you may not see as often as you'd like, but you pick up like no time has been lost each time you spend time with them; it's that friend who moved away, applied for some covert job, put you as a reference, ensuring some secret service agent would come conduct the most intense and awkward interview you've ever had; it's that roommate who took you to the hospital late one night when your pancreas attacked itself and stayed with you until the morning hours when your mom arrived, even though she had an early class that next day; it's that person who always remembers to get you a rock on every trip, because it's a known fact you collect them; it's that group of friends who wake up extra early on a Sunday morning to come cheer you on at a race before they go to church; it's the ones who make you look forward to every single Thursday, which used to be such an insignificant day of the week; it's those people who know every quirky thing about you and love you just the same.

We are peculiar treasures to God, and He's placed people in our lives who are true blessings. Yes, some of them may be quite peculiar, indeed, but they are the ones who show us what authentic friendship and love really are.

And, just like with any treasure, you should never let them go.

Tailor-made

Being tailored can be so uncomfortable.

I took a dress to be altered today, and I will be one of the first people to say that the tailor is not one of my favorite places to go. For starters, it's chilly out, and I was already in my cozy clothes and wasn't thrilled to have to change into the dress. But, it's a necessary component of the process, so I tried to think happy thoughts.

Until the pins came out.

Different than before

The sweet lady in charge of alterations is awesome and has tailored a couple of bridesmaids dresses for me in the past, but I never like it when I see her come toward me with all of those pins in her hands—it means things are about to get unpleasant. I guess one reason I really don't like this situation is because I'm not a huge fan of people—especially people I don't know very well—touching me. I don't like having the thought: "Oh, that's a hand that shouldn't be there," when fabric is being pulled and tightened in various places.

But the uncomfortable moments have to occur in order for the dress to be in its best form. And, once it is finally ready, it's as perfect as it can be for whatever person is set to wear it. It's still the same dress, but now it's gone through changes so that it's better than it was before.

We all go through tailoring types of experiences in life, but they are there to help us to become the people we are meant to be. Even though we feel awkward and uneasy sometimes, we are being tailored and molded they way we are supposed to so that we reach that perfect fit. We are still the same people, but we've had the changes within us that make us better than we were.

No, going to the tailor isn't the bravest feat in the world, but you still have to be willing to step out in the middle of the room in front of those huge mirrors and trust that the professional knows what he or she is doing. In the same way, we also have to be willing to step out in the middle of this massive world and let the real Tailor work in us, trusting that He knows exactly what He's doing.

It's bold. It's worth it.

Being tailored isn't so bad—after all, it just means you'll be that much more comfortable to dance with spunk every chance you get.

Finish each lap

The world can be a lonely place—but only if you let it be.

I do most of my running by myself, and it's sometimes tough to be able to hit the paces I need on harder workouts without others there to push me. I find that running with others helps me go faster. That's one reason my Sunday long runs with my friends never really seem as long as they are—I have people right alongside me, which is encouraging, and they are all such enjoyable company that it's a blast in the process.

But there are times when going solo on something is a beatdown.

Take your mark.

I was at a middle school track the other day, and a dad brought his two sons out for a little family practice session. The older boy, a 13-year-old, seemed pretty serious with his warmup drills and told me he competed for a club team. His 7-year-old-brother, however, was likely just out there because his older brother was. He didn't seem to be too enthused about anything to do with running.

In fact, he was avoiding it until his dad finally sternly told him to run a warmup lap.

Little Jace took off pounding his feet in an almost full-out sprint. Then I heard his dad yell, "Boy, you've only run a 100!" I looked up to see Jace already walking with his hands interlaced on the back of his head like he had just run a really difficult race. His dad started his own lap and caught up to him, making Jace start running again, as well. When he had his father right there with him, little Jace didn't seem to struggle at all and even finished his lap with a precious smile on his face. It was contagious, and I couldn't help but chuckle a little, too.

His dad kept running and said as he started his next lap, "I'm going to run another, and then you're going to join me again. We'll go together."

Jace took a deep breath and then said, "Ok, daddy, but you have to stay with me the whole time!"

And that's just what his father did.

Life can feel defeating when you're all alone and trying to tackle each curve or straightaway that you face. Often we feel like giving up or walking when we're supposed to be running. But it's important to remember that we have a Father who will run every step of the way with us or simply carry us when it feels like we can't go one extra lap. And when we see that we have another intimidating task ahead of us, He's there to say, "We'll go together."

And He will stay with us the entire time.

It doesn't matter if we take off too fast; it doesn't matter if we veer off the path or out of our lanes; it doesn't matter if the wind seems too powerful and like we are always going against it as it's constantly pushing us back; it doesn't matter if the distance seems way too daunting for us to finish. What matters is that we are not alone, and there's strength within us all that we sometimes don't even acknowledge we have. But, when we do, that homestretch feels so much more significant.

And, when you finish your lap, just think how contagious that precious smile on your face will be.