I forgot how much I love Sunday afternoon runs.

Well, love is probably too strong of a word here. I love a big juicy bacon cheese burger, hand cut fries and a cold Dr. Pepper to wash it all down. And a milkshake for dessert. And then I feel like a disgusting fat pig afterwards. It kind of makes since now why I have to run, right?

But I do enjoy a long Sunday run up and down the streets of my little town. I actually love the way I feel after I run.

(Not the sore muscle part, the “I did something good for my body, I feel amazing and I can conquer the world right now” part.)

Last year this time I was training for a half marathon. As part of my training schedule, my long runs fell on Sundays. Sometimes I would run with my sister, but sometimes I ran by myself.

As an introvert who is forced to be around people all the time, I really looked forward to this alone time. It was a time for me to decompress, think through my plans for the week, reflect on life and just enjoy the beautiful creation around me. I also used the time to talk to God. Sometimes I would just blurt out whatever thought I had or issue I was dealing with. Sometimes I would try to be more focused and strategic and pick someone to pray for each mile of my run. During that particular season, my Grandpa always got the first mile. He was sick and went through major surgery, recovery and rehab throughout my training. I’m quite certain I prayed for him last year more than I’ve prayed for any one single person in my whole life.

It was a really challenging but rewarding time for me. Even in the freezing temperature and rain, I still ran and I never regretted it. Not one time.

Then the blazing summer temperatures came, I hurt my foot again, life got busier somehow and I stopped running. Obviously, I also started gaining weight. Because bacon cheese burgers, fries and DP.

A few weeks ago I tried to start back running again. I say tried because it was ugly and very painful. As slow as I was and as much as it hurt, I still had that amazing feeling after I finished.

Today, for the first time in months, I attempted a Sunday afternoon run. I did need the exercise and it was a gorgeous day for a run.

Plus, I had some stuff to deal with between me and God. I talk to God all the time but there’s just something about being alone, on a little country road, on a mostly cloudy, fifty degree Sunday afternoon that allows me to be vulnerable and real before Him. I had some questions. I had some confessions. And I had so much to be thankful for. My body only lasted about thirty minutes before I was gasping for air and had to head home but it was a beautiful thirty minutes.

As I turned the corner into my cul-de-sac and watched my four year old dart out in front of a moving car on his scooter, I thanked God again for my family, my life, my health and for thirty minutes to be alone. It’s definitely time to make these Sunday afternoon runs part of my routine again.