Saturday, December 31, 2011

Pressure to the site of pain

When you run too hard and mess up your leg (that's the technical term, right?), the experts--whether they have medical degrees or marathon medals hanging on their walls--will all tell you to apply pressure to the site of pain. Wrap it. Tape it. Wear compression socks. (Have you seen those? They're ridiculously ugly and expensive. Kind of like Uggs, only not as warm.)

Apply pressure to the site of pain. That wouldn't be my first reaction, nor the second or third. It's easier to wince and look away. It's more intuitive to ignore the discomfort and to avoid the troublesome area than it is to face it.


But we won't heal by popping pills and pretending not to notice. We heal only when we lean into the swollen and tender spots eyes open, press deeper, pinpoint weakness in the chain, adjust our gait.

Apply pressure to the site of pain. So, um, this post isn't about running injuries anymore, is it?

Nope.

Friends, I've been feeling a very strong and highly uncomfortable assault tug on my heart for the last year or so. It's getting more exhausting to ignore it than it would be to take action. So this is me, taking action.

There's a fiery point of pain to which I need to apply some pressure.  I need to look it in the face. It's not my personal pain. It's not my story. But it is the story of far too many, 27 million too many. I'm talking about human trafficking, about the estimated 1.2 million children who are trafficked annually. I'm talking about girls, many no older than my own daughter, taken, exploited, a child sold every 30 seconds.

It makes my stomach lurch and my eyes blur. But see, there's this extremely annoying little detail   reminder God keeps bringing to mind. It's not about me. It's not about what I feel comfortable with. My life goal, apparently, isn't to surround myself with a nice bubbly cushion of happy-clappyness. Which is a bummer, really, because hiding underneath a rainbow-colored bolt of bubble wrap sounds pretty good right now.

So. Apply pressure to the site of pain. 

In the next week, I'm launching a blogging-meets-running initiative called Run for their Lives, designed to help us all look this issue in the face and inspire us to action.

I'm going to invite you to join me in training for and running a race.
I'm going to invite you to learn more about the cause. 
I'm going to invite you to donate if you feel led.
I'm going to share of series of posts with practical tips and running advice for the regular old Jo.
And best of all, I'm going to give away some cool custom running tees. So stay tuned.



To be perfectly honest, I haven't thought this through completely. I haven't planned a single post yet. I'm bumbling my way through the technical set up. I'm unprepared for whatever it is I've just signed myself up to do. But I'm going for it, comfort zone be damned.

Come with me?