Finding the pace

I have never liked to run. Never. Memories of the 50 yard dash in 3rd grade..running laps in 6th grade while trying out for track team...and being smacked on the bottom by my volleyball coach because I was the slowest runner on the team..even my feeble attempt to develop a jogging routine on the treadmill during my "get fit" phase. It isn't really only the sweating and the breathlessness, but my inability to set a pace and keep it.

Sometimes I feel more like a 4th of July sparkler than a steady candle flame.

I seem to have a habit of going from slow and pokey..to crazy, frantic and manic. In my recent history, I am sure that I remember having mornings wondering what I was going to do..thinking that I might actually have nothing to do. But that is all a foggy memory now...one that I wistfully wonder if it will ever be a reality again.

I suppose that setting a pace in life is as important as it is in exercise. Start off too fast and you might fall flat before you hit the finish line...run too slow and you might not ever get there..full stop.

Maybe this is part of the maturation process. Realizing that zeal and robust energy, while each has its place, must be tempered by a consistency and commitment to the "race". A little reigning in and a bit of thoughtful prayer can bring about a longer lasting effect than the impetuous burst which might quickly die out.