Last night, our family got to go to our district's first “Little Olympics,” which essentially was a track meet for elementary school kiddos. It was super fun - each school selected athletes for various events and competed against each other. I was so proud that both of my daughters got selected: Gianna for the 200 m and Caroline for the 800 m.
Leading up to it, we talked about the differences in their events. I told Gianna that hers was hard because she basically should run full speed the whole time. I told Caroline that hers was hard because she would have to pace herself - two laps around the big track is no joke for 7 and 8 year olds!
Being in the stands brought back so many great memories for me, as I ran track and cross country in high school. When I told my kids this, their first question (of course) was: “Were you good?” And I promptly and enthusiastically responded, “NO!! But I loved running, I loved being with my friends and cheering them on for their events, I loved spending all that time outside, and I loved the community it built.” To which they asked, “Were any of your friends good?” Man! I realized such an unhealthy fixation on having to be good at something, and it made me sad.
Gianna ended up getting 8th place, and Caroline got 3rd place. I feel like it is worth reiterating that I was so proud of both of my girls. Even having the opportunity to represent their school and compete in a district-wide event is such an accomplishment. Caroline, naturally, was ecstatic. Gianna became distant for the rest of the night, which I assume was sulking over her less than desired performance. Sensing that this might make for a troublesome evening, I asked her if she would join me in taking our dog on a quick lap around the neighborhood.
I tried to talk about other things first - her day at school, an upcoming birthday party - and then I asked her what I should write about for my evening writing time.
“I don’t know. You could write a poem about me, which you still haven’t done. Or you could write about running.”
We talked about the race without the outright expression of disappointment. Gianna said she was going to give up on track camp (which, we hadn’t actually signed her up for). I told her that makes me sad because for the past few years, she has always enjoyed running day in PE class. But she continued the negative self-talk and excuses for why that had been the case. I only did so well and liked it because I ran with my friend. Even though she didn’t come out and say it, it seemed to me that she was wanting to give this up because she felt like she wasn’t good at it.
That night, after she went to bed, I ended up doing some reflective writing about other stuff that has been going on in my life lately.
Then I woke up this morning and went to my exercise class. While I was on the treadmill, I thought about how much I have always enjoyed running - well, at least for the past 23 years. I thought about how it has been a sort of self-medication for me during really dark times. I thought about the different seasons of running I’ve had over the years - structured, unstructured, consistent, inconsistent, distance, interval. I thought about how grateful I was for all of it. It has been such a gift and a joy, one that I do not take for granted, especially as I get older. And then I thought, I think I will write about running.
So Gianna, this isn’t a poem, but it is still for you.
It is urgently important to me that you understand that you are allowed to do things that you enjoy EVEN IF you aren’t good at them.
I think about what the last 23 years would have been like for me if I had decided that I should give up on cross country and track just because I wasn’t good at it. I would have missed out on friendships, health benefits (physical, yes, but more importantly, mental), supreme highs of feeling fully alive, great epiphanies (because running has a way of bringing out some deep thinking for me), among other things, I’m sure. Even writing this makes me a bit teary, to think of all that I would have lacked without running being a part of my life.
I also want you to know that you can do something for joy alone AND THAT CAN BE REASON ENOUGH. For many of us, there is a tremendous amount of pressure to perform, to be productive, to excel. So when we do something and the only benefit is that it brings us joy, sometimes we may be tempted to think that it’s not worth our time.
As I think of how this could also reveal the truth of God in our lives, there are two things that apply:
You can’t do anything to earn God’s love. You don’t need to prove yourself. You don’t have to constantly be productive. Your worth is not attached to what you do. Your worth is simply in who you are.
God desires our joy. “These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full” (John 15:11). Whatever brings true joy, a small taste of the fullness of joy we await, is certainly worth our pursuit. And our time.
Therefore, when we do things we love without the pressure of performing at a certain level, we live the reality and truth that God loves us just as we are and desires our joy.
And so my dear Gianna, whatever it is that fills you with true joy, I pray that you will never give it up simply because you feel like you aren’t good enough.
This picture of baby runner you makes me SO happy! Also, the “urgently important line” is going on a sticky note on my mirror right now. I’m allowed to do things that I’m not good at—the joy is worth it. Thank you for reminding me. :)