Be careful and risky

While there isn't a book full of instructions for every instance of life, there are certainly some tidbits of advice we gain from others along the way.

We (mostly women) are often reminded of how we need to guard our hearts. While I definitely agree, I think we still have to risk our hearts at some points if we're ever going to fall in love—you have to be careful and risky at the same time. But, still, those "guard your heart" warnings are from the Word (see Proverbs 4:23) and quite valuable.

But there are other admonitions that people don't stress as much—like wearing socks when you go rollerblading.

I encountered a situation yesterday in which I had forgotten socks but was coaching a young runner and needed to rollerblade alongside her for the 5K course I had mapped out. I had already run 14 miles that morning and didn't want to run again, so I figured I would just carelessly blade in my sockless state and not have to worry about many repercussions.

False.

Wear socks when blading.

I started feeling some rubbing pain not too long into her run, but I figured it was only for a short period of time, and I'd be fine. The results were two lovely bleeding blister-type things on the outside of both of my legs. Gross. And ouch.

I realize this was completely my fault—I knew I was going to be rollerblading that day, and I should have remembered to pack socks. But, as I was scrambling to throw stuff in a bag for church and the rest of the day before I drove to Dallas for my run, the socks managed to slip my mind. It was unfortunate, obviously.

But, to be honest, I really don't care about the blisters that much. My precious little runner completed her training for the day and did a great job—and I was able to be there with her the entire time and guide her and encourage her for the duration of the course.

Life is going to throw things at us that leave us hurt and maybe even scarred. But even those marks are often worth what we go through to get them. You might find yourself with heartache as you sit with your friend on a park swing during your college years wondering where things went wrong, but even then you could know that you're growing in your walk with the Lord when you need comfort the most. Or you could get a broken heart and know that perhaps you let yourself be too vulnerable. Either way, it's the life lesson you needed to make you into the person you were meant to be.

The heart is a bit more fragile than the skin on your legs, but there are still times when we have to risk feeling some pain for the people we love. Your heart is precious, so let love flow from it, yet also ensure that it's protected, especially from such harshness like spite and resentment.

Because blisters on the heart are worse than those from a sockless rollerblading excursion.

We don't always know

Sometimes the heart knows where it needs to be, even if we try to take it elsewhere.

When I was in high school, I really felt like the most enjoyable career for me would be as a teacher, yet I didn't actually admit that to anyone. I honestly wouldn't even admit it to myself. Nope, I was meant to be a sports reporter.

I was a journalism major in college and continued to pursue the sports reporting career, covering games and writing for the various publications at the multiple universities I attended. I even started some freelance work researching and writing for ESPN during my last year of college (something I actually ended up doing for about five years).

When I graduated, I only sought jobs in sports media, though something within me still said this wasn't the right path. I decided to ignore that voice. I love sports, and I love to write. Why would I not combine the two? Eventually I hoped to be a SportsCenter anchor and follow in the footsteps of the great Linda Cohn. It didn't matter that the lives of those in her profession revolved around their jobs, right? I mean, surely it was the glam life.

I started working for an online publication after college and covered local high school sports. My lifestyle changed so drastically so quickly. Weekdays were spent going to schools for interviews and information, covering weeknight sporting events, and writing various news pieces and features for our site. Friday nights were dedicated solely to football and making sure I went immediately home to delve out my stories. Those were always late nights, and Saturday mornings were early, as I had to go report on cross country meets. Just as I knew it would be, my job was my life, and time with friends and family came second.

I remember feeling overwhelmed much of the time, but this was the life I was supposed to have, right? Forget the fact that when I interviewed teachers and coaches I wished we could switch roles. Nope, I was living the dream.

One morning while running, I found myself praying about my situation. I didn't want to quit my job, but I wasn't sure I was really happy and that this was the career for me.

Sometimes God answers prayers immediately.

We had a company meeting that morning, and our president told us that we were going out of business and that we should all start seeking new jobs. Wow. I was stunned. I felt relieved, but at the same time I really didn't know what to do. I didn't have a plan.

But He did.

Five years of awesome.

It became clear to me that this was my cue to go after what I knew I was supposed to do: teach. It's amazing how quickly everything came together. I got the news in March, worked a couple of jobs at once (as a publisher's assistant and at the rec center in my hometown), and began an alternate certification program. I actively started looking for teaching positions, went to a few job fairs, and met with my elementary school principal to get some advice from her. Before long, I got a call from a high school, had an interview the next day, and was hired two days later. When I got the phone call, I did a cartwheel in the lobby of the rec center.

I can't believe it's already been five years. There have definitely been some ups and downs, but I'm absolutely certain that I'm exactly where I need to be. Sure, there are days when the kiddos drive me bonkers, but you can't help but love them. I care for each student who walks through my door, and I truly hope that all of the them leave as better people than they were before. I don't just want to help them in their writing and video editing—I want to see that they're prepared to go into the real world and make real impacts on others.

I'm honestly thankful I took the path I did, because I think I needed to see that sports journalism isn't what I was meant to do. I'd rather just enjoy the sports, be a biased fan, and make more time for the people I care about and love. And, you know, educate the future of America.

You don't always dance to the tune you thought you would, but often the song that ends up playing is so much better.

Photo finish

Sometimes a good moment and a bad moment can happen at the exact same time.

Even in a race.

Last Friday, my top runner competed in the 1600-meter race at our Area Championship Track Meet, the day after she placed fifth in the 3200. Only the top four places move on to the regional meet, so it was obviously disappointing, and she was looking to redeem herself. We knew it would be a huge challenge, though. She was sitting at fifth in the rankings going into the race, and the four girls in front of her were like her personal Goliaths—she had never beaten any of them.

But my precious Morgan looked confident warming up, and she didn't even seem very nervous during my pre-race speech to her. I think I might have had more anxiety than she did right then.

When the gun went off, the two top girls didn't wait too long to separate themselves from the rest of the pack. Morgan was sitting well with three others, while the last two trailed pretty far behind that middle pack. The first two laps looked great, but I started to get a little worried during the third lap when two of the girls started pulling away from Morgan, which left her sitting in fifth.

Again.

On the final lap, I was concerned that the gap had grown too big. With 200 meters left, one girl pulled farther ahead to ensure she'd clinch third, and the girl in fourth (who usually dominates our district) appeared as if she had her ticket to regionals in the bag.

And then things changed.

Better than the finishing pic

When I looked up to see Morgan with 100 meters left in the race, there was a look of determination on her face that can't even be described as wonderfully as it should. She wanted this. "Holy schnikes! She's gonna catch her!" She had gained so much ground on her and was literally expending every single ounce of energy she had left in her already worn-out body. At the very end of the race, no one in the area could even tell who captured that last spot to advance to the next meet. I frantically started asking everyone, but they all said they couldn't tell. Well, they had cameras at the finish line (and I even had the official go to the press box to review), and my little Morgan barely missed out by .02 of a second.

Heartbreak.

When we saw the final times and places pop up on the scoreboard, I wasn't sure how my kiddo was going to take it. The previous night had left her in tears (we actually had more hope for her going in the 3200), and Friday night's race was so close that I thought it would hurt even more. But, instead of letting her emotions get the best of her, Morgan—in a very composed and matter-of-fact way—looked up and said, "You know what, I'm happy with it. I know I didn't make it, but I just ran the race of my life, and that's all I could do."

Disappointments are going to be common in our lives, but it's how we handle them that shapes who we are as individuals. Morgan could have been down on herself all night and let everyone know how upsetting it is to come so close to obtaining a goal and not reaching it. But she chose a more mature route—one that allowed her to be proud of breaking her own school record and finishing a race with more guts than she ever has.

And it was nice to see her smiling with the friends who came to support her rather than them comforting her as she wept in their arms. I'm proud of her for being bold and not breaking down—and now she has even more determination for the seasons to come (she's only a sophomore).

Things definitely won't always go the way we want, but even the biggest disappointments can turn out to be the greatest sources of motivation.

Tossing gloves and love

There are often people looking out for us when we don't realize it.

Even in restaurant parking lots.

On Sunday, it wasn't super cold out, but I started my long run wearing gloves, because my hands get cold very easily, and I really don't like to have cold hands. But they actually got rather warm not too long into the run, and I ended up taking them off before we even reached four miles. Now, they are a pair of $1 gloves from Target, so it wouldn't have been a big deal if I had just ditched them on the side of the road, but, to be honest, I've become attached to them and didn't want to give them up. Plus, I justified it with the notion that perhaps my hands would get chilled later during the run (even though I knew this wasn't a plausible possibility).

Toward the end, we passed by our starting point with about a mile to go. So I just threw my gloves on the ground in the parking lot, figuring they would be just fine while we added on what we needed.

Don't always assume.

When we got back to the parking lot, Dan asked me where my gloves went. Oh no! They were definitely not in the spot where I tossed them and certainly nowhere else in the surrounding area. I know it's silly, but I was a bit sad about this. I loved those gloves.

Dan mentioned that maybe someone from Breadwinners or a parking lot attendant had picked them up, but it was too early for any parking lot people to be there. "But then there was the homeless man we saw walking down the street." Thanks for the reminder, Dan.

We had asked at the restaurant, but no one could really help us out. Then, alas! The owner walked out and told me he had seen me throw my gloves on the ground and had gone outside, picked them up, and then put them in the parking lot attendant box to keep them safe for me. He said he knows a lot of people walk around in this area, and he didn't know how long I would be gone, and he didn't want anyone to pick them while passing by the lot.

Some guy who didn't know a thing about me made a choice to take care of me.

There are still good people in this world.

No, losing a pair of cheap gloves wouldn't be the end of the world, but it's heartwarming to know that there are people who care enough about others to perform even small acts of kindness for others. And you don't have to be a restaurant owner to do so. Every day, we are given opportunities to care for others, and I think far too many times we let these chances slip through our fingers. It's not that difficult to wait a few extra seconds to hold the door for the person behind you; it won't harm you to bend down and help the person who dropped papers all over the floor; you don't have to move mountains to allow the car in the lane next to you to go in front of you; smiling at someone who looks like he or she may really need some cheering up is not the equivalent of performing brain surgery; giving a friend or coworker a ride home—even if it is slightly out of your way—won't throw your world into complete chaos; letting your heart show a little bit of extra love won't bring about your downfall.

I think the world could use a lot more people like my glove hero—those people God places in our lives when we least expect them. They seemingly come out of nowhere and can suddenly turn your disgruntled feelings into smiles of genuine happiness. And I think it makes those who help us feel better, too. Life is more enjoyable when you're letting love rule and giving a little bit more of your time and energy for the sake of selflessness.

After all, cold hands from tossed gloves need warm hearts to be there for them.

Deciding to decide

I really hate making decisions.

Especially when they seem like monumental life decisions.

Unfortunately, they are huge parts of our lives and something we must do on a daily basis. And I mean it when I say "unfortunately." For some reason, having to decide even the simplest things gives me anxiety.

I mean, I went to four different colleges because of my inability to be comfortable with my decision-making abilities. I started off at Texas A&M University then transferred to the University of North Texas during my second semester so that I could use that time to decide on where I was going to finish my education. But I found myself back at A&M my sophomore year, because I couldn't make up my mind on anywhere else, and I thought maybe I didn't give Aggieland a fair shot. I guess I thought wrong, because I transferred to Southern Methodist University to start my junior year. I liked it there, but I thought it would be fun to go to college with my sister, and she had just started at Texas Christian University, so I went there for the second semester of my junior year. And I hated every second of it. My mom had told me TCU had to be my last stop, but she felt sorry for me after seeing how miserable I was, so I returned to SMU to finish off such a lovely college experience.

In hindsight, I honestly could have been completely happy at A&M for all four years—if I had let myself be.

I think that's another thing about decisions: you not only get to choose some of your surroundings, but you also get to choose your attitude with each situation you face. I know there are some trials we face in life that we would never actually want, but we always get to choose how we respond to whatever life throws at us. My bad decision history obviously didn't dwindle much in college, as I didn't let myself find true joy in the places I should have.

Then there are those decisions that are more complicated than our attitudes—the ones that keep you up at night or cause you to make pros and cons lists when you would normally never do something so diligent.

Like one I recently had to make.

I think the important thing about making those decisions that seem so monumental is following God's will in your life—plus, prayer will give you much more guidance than any pros/cons list can. But I don't consider discernment one of my gifts, and I often question the big choices I make (obviously, seeing the history I've already recounted). I think, though, that deep in our hearts we really know what direction we are supposed to go or what roads we are supposed to take. After all, I think that when Ross is listening to Rachel's voicemail in the final episode of FRIENDS, before she walks in through the door and says, "I got off the plane," we all knew that she had chosen not to go to Paris and leave behind the person she was meant to be with for the rest of her life. She had a decision, and she let her heart make it for her.

And I think that's often the best way to go.

Rather than over-thinking outcomes and instances that may or may never happen, it's sometimes the better choice simply to let impulses take over. Trust me, they write songs about this stuff (and I'm not just talking about ones by Taylor Swift—if you don't believe me, listen to Casey James' "Crying on a Suitcase").

One nerve-racking thing about decisions is that they can often bring about significant change—and change can be quite scary. But it's helpful in these moments of fear to remember Hilary Duff's advice in her song "Why Not?": Why not take a crazy chance? Why not do a crazy dance? If you lose a moment, you might lose a lot, so why not? Why not?

I guess decisions don't have to be as complicated as I sometimes make them; taking chances doesn't have to be so intimidating; change doesn't have to seem so scary. Confidence in your choices will make them that much more enjoyable.

And maybe you, too, can one day walk through the door and say with passion in your heart, "I got off the plane."

Pain and Cheetos

I love a good bit of wisdom, even when it comes in the most unexpected situations.

Like at a hospital on Easter.

When I woke up Sunday morning, my stomach hurt a little bit, and I thought it looked a little bigger than normal, but I thought maybe I was just beefing up some. But almost midway through my long run, it started hurting really badly, and I ended up going to the emergency room when we finished the run, because I'd had this pain before and had a feeling I knew what it was: a ruptured cyst. Sure enough, after getting an ultrasound and a bunch of other tests (I don't remember it all, because they had given me something special for my pain through that IV), the doctor told me the cyst was probably what was causing the bulge in my stomach that morning, and it had likely burst while I was running, causing the excruciating pain that ensued.

How lovely.

I spent a good portion of the day there, so I got to have a nice chat with the sweet nurse Lynette, who kept making fun of me for things I had said throughout the day—things I didn't remember saying. She laughed and said I must really like Cheetos, and I just smiled and agreed, though I was quite confused.

Band-Aids can help.

But Lynette also said some things that will stick with me.

At one point, she asked me my level of pain on a scale from 1-10. I said 13. She told me not to worry, because it will eventually become less and less until all of the pain is completely gone. "And I'm not just talking about this explosion within you, little lady," she said. (She has a way with words, obviously.) She reminded me that all pain, whether emotional or physical, will one day subside. I think it's fitting she said this on Easter, the day Jesus rose from the grave after experiencing more pain than we'll ever know when He hung on that cross.

My ruptured cyst will soon be mended; that scrape you got when you fell off your bike will scab over and heal; that nasty break you got in your leg when you landed on it wrong in a basketball game will take time but will still mend; your broken heart will find happiness again; that torn ACL will be repaired; that sunburn will peel and go away (and hopefully turn into a tan). There are many more pains in life, some of which are much more serious. But God is bigger than all of them and will bring healing to them all—even if it doesn't happen while we're on this earth.

Because pain isn't forever, but Jesus is.

I'm not glad I spent Sunday in the hospital, but I'm glad I met Lynette. She was the angel I needed when I was all alone and in need of comfort. And apparently she is willing to help me in other areas of my life.

As she was leaving, she winked and said, "And I'll be sure that surgeon takes you up on that offer for the Cheetos date!"

Oh, good gosh.

At least turning about 82 shades of red doesn't hurt.

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.