"Life's not about waiting for the storm to pass... it's about learning to dance in the rain." - Vivian Greene

...or in my case, learning to run in the rain. For many who have known me over the years, they know I am a runner. I am a better than average runner. I don't run races just to finish. I almost crave the pain when the legs and lungs scream out, begging to quit, but the mind tells them to shut up and dig deeper. Yes, over the years I have won many races, set course records, and sacrificed many a potentially fun Friday night to wake up before daybreak the following morning, just to experience that pain again. Why, you might ask? Was it because I loved it so much like a sweet addiction that I couldn't stop? In a word, no.

For years I ran because I could. I knew I had a talent, yet did not know it's purpose. I would run repeats around a lonely track in the scorching summer heat, freezing rain and even sleet, hating every step, yet pushing through it all. I learned that racing wasn't about finishing first, it was more about how I controlled myself mentally while out there - did I stay positive or did I try to talk myself into quitting around the next turn? With some people, they use their career to define who they are. With me, it was my running. I watched what I ate and drank to help me perform, viewing my body as a machine which God gave me. I, however, continued to question why God would give me this talent. What was I supposed to do with it?

I continued to run over the years, even through pregnancies, miscarriages and a slew of ovarian cysts that would sideline working out for months. Running became a part of me. When I could not run for any length of time, I became like a caged animal, needing to release pent up energy, but having no way to escape. Often my husband would send me out the door telling me not to return until I ran it out of my system - lovingly, of course, for he knows me better than even I know myself.

In 2008, our world forever changed with the birth of our second daughter, Hayden Grace. We ventured into unfamiliar territory that most can not even begin to relate to. Physically and emotionally David and I were drained after night upon sleepless night with our little girl. We visited almost ever speciality doctor in the books searching for why our precious baby was so sick, refluxy, and not developing like a "normal" baby should. During this time, I would drag myself out for a morning run, even if the night before we were at urgent care with our little one for an ear infection, fever, congestion or pneumonia.

In the Christian song, "While I'm Waiting", John Waller sings the line "I'll be running the race even while I wait". I would replay that verse in my head when I ran like a mantra. My body and mind were exhausted from all we had been going through, but my soul stirred with the lyrics. I connected with God as my feet moved over the trails. Some days I would run through tears, others through anger and frustration, but I continued to run. I craved my time alone with my Heavenly Father on the peaceful stillness of the trails. I felt as if even the deer knew my reason for being out there, for they didn't flinch when I passed by. I finally began "to dance".

I still wonder why God gave me this talent. Perhaps one day it will be revealed to me, just like a revelation about why He made our sweet Hayden as she is. Today, though, I will dance (or literally, go for a run in the rain).