Darlin’, you are such a mystery to me …

Sometime last semester I was eating dinner with a new friend when she asked me a somewhat audacious question.  “Why are you still single?”  I tried to be as transparent as you can be with a new friend, I suppose, and explained that I didn’t really date just to be dating.  Most guys who have expressed interest in the past didn’t really fit the mold of someone with whom I could see myself, hence the single state. 

Then about a month ago I had a similar conversation while riding in a car with another new friend I was just getting to know.  She asked if I was dating anyone to which I replied that I wasn’t.  I fired the same question back at her, and she offered the same response.  She then paused for a second and asked, “Why is a girl like you not?”  I was flattered and could ask the very same question of her.  My friend is pretty, considerate, creative, and she loves the Lord.  Why hadn’t some great guy found her?  Our conversation then turned to the age old question … “Where are all the good guys?” 

It seems to me that Christian males have an unfair advantage when it comes to relationships.  I can’t offer a statistic on the Christian male to female ratio, but I can say that in my own observation single committed Christian females seem to outnumber males of the same caliber.  And when I say committed, I’m talking quality.  Mature.  With depth.  Not apathetic.  A lover of God and of people and a seeker of His wisdom.  Granted, not many females fall into this category either, but it feels like these guys are almost nonexistent … or well, married.  This type of guy, even if only minimally physically attractive, could pretty much take his pick from among single Christian women, and if he’s good looking – watch out. 

While I’ve had plenty of crushes in my day, I can count on one hand the number of guys I’ve ever seriously considered, guys like the quality guy mentioned above.  I can certainly appreciate attractive qualities in the opposite sex, but there’s more to it than that.  I can’t help but echo Elisabeth Elliot who said of her first husband Jim, “I thanked God for a man who put Him first.  I could not have gotten terribly excited about one whose spiritual hunger did not parallel my own.”  As she began to realize her affection for Jim and the potential for real relationship there, she described him as “a real man, strong, broadchested, unaffected, friendly, and I thought, very handsome.  He loved God.  That was the supreme dynamic of his life.  Nothing else mattered much by comparison.”  She too could appreciate the qualities that made him attractive to the world.  However, Jim’s love for God as evidenced by his love for people was the heart of her attraction. 

This handful of “quality guys” baffles me.  The other day I remembered an old Caedmon’s Call lyric, crafted by Derek Webb in the midst of some of the relationship drama which characterized much of his earlier work.  “Darlin’, you are such a mystery to me, you know.”  While I’ve heard this sentiment from many a guy, it certainly goes both ways.  I am so thankful for my married boys, Rodney and Randy, who are always willing to help shed a little light on my sometimes bewildered state.  There’s a comfort and wisdom I find in both of them.  I have no shame in saying, “Hey, listen to this voicemail and help me parse for subtext.”  However, sometimes the “handful” confuses my married boys as well, which brings me to the real subject of this post.   

If I could gather the handful in a room and without sacrificing any dignity, ask them anything I wanted, I think it might look something like this: 

1. How important is appearance?  Given the choice between an incredibly attractive Christian girl who is sweet, but perhaps not very deep, and a moderately pretty Christian girl with endearing flaws, perhaps a little less polished but with a real personality, which would you choose?  In the best book I ever started without finishing (Anna Karenina), Tolstoy hints at the trumping power of appearance in regard to female attraction when describing the character Levin.  “He had heard that women often love unattractive, simple people, but he did not believe it, because he judged by himself, and he could only love beautiful, mysterious and special women.”  All right girls, there you have it.
2. How capable are you of seeing through the games and manipulation of women?  As a rule, I do my best to avoid both of these. J  That determination stems from conviction and obviously not the outcome of said tactics, because honestly, sometimes they seems to work.  I will see girls bend over backwards to “help” the handful, but completely lack a genuine concern for the welfare of others as a whole.  Do you see this?  Or do you just think, “What a nice girl!  I should ask her out.”
3. How easy is it to tell when a girl is interested?  When culture deems it acceptable for girls to ask guys out or at least make their interest explicitly known, can you even pick up on the subtleties of less forward women?  Or are you so used to having girls throw themselves at you that you’re oblivious to the other open doors?
4. What’s the intimidation factor?  Have you ever met a girl that you wanted to date but were too reticent to approach?  Okay, well, duh.  I’m sure every guy has, but other than appearance, what factors into that?
5. In making dating decisions, how much do you rely on prayer and the leading of the Holy Spirit?  I had another car conversation awhile back with two guys on the subject of dating.  Guy #1 shared his philosophy, which he had borrowed from a sermon on singleness, that everyone should just run wholeheartedly after the Lord and after awhile look around to see who’s running beside them.  Guy #2 interrupted with his own contradicting view.  “Sometimes you just see a cute girl and ask her out.”  While I appreciated his honesty, I was also a little disheartened, because these words were spoken from the mouth of one of the handful.

 Perhaps these questions betray a personal vulnerability unintended when I sat down to write this blog, but I’m just going to go with it.  I am looking for a partner.  Yes, I’m a girl, and I want all the silly things girls want, but most of all I am seeking partnership.  Partner in life.  Partner in ministry.  Partner in love.  And I can’t settle for someone without that same desire. 

So on Valentine’s Day 2008, I want to look forward to that partnership, not in a romantic comedy “life’s all about me” way, but with the most realistic expectations a single girl can muster.  So I leave you with some wise words on love from a much quoted favorite of mine and a poem that captures both the beauty and realism of marriage.  Enjoy, friends! 

“Maybe you’re the dream I’m waking from

‘Cause I see you everywhere I go

Darlin’, you are such a mystery to me, you know

Don’t you know that

Love is different than you’d think

It’s never in a song or on a TV screen

And love is harder than a word

Said at the right time and everything’s alright

Love is different than you think” 

Love Is Different – Caedmon’s Call 

Marriage – to Tanya

How hard it is for me, who live

in the excitement of women

and have the desire for them

in my mouth like salt.  Yet

you have taken me and quieted me.

You have been such light to me

that other women have been

your shadows.  You come near me

with the nearness of sleep.

And yet I am not quiet.

It is to be broken.  It is to be

torn open.  It is not to be

reached and come to rest in

ever.  I turn against you,

I break from you, I turn to you.

We hurt, and are hurt,

and have each other for healing.

It is healing.  It is never whole. 

– Wendell Berry

Ready

It is an incredibly beautiful day.  A day that naturally lends itself to a long run, and I am elated to be on the other side of twelve miles – further than I’ve ever run in my life.  I couldn’t have imagined better conditions for such a feat.  The air was cool but not cold, the wind almost nonexistent, the sun bright but not glaring.  I was hydrated, carb-loaded and halfway well rested. The stars were aligned. Add to the mix my fabulous running partner and the fact that some of our friends happened to drive by honking/waving/yelling for us at about four miles and then again at six; it felt almost like a real race day. 

About halfway in to our run I started thinking about race day.  At last year’s marathon (where I ran the half) I stood at the starting line beside a girl about my age running her first marathon.  Her face revealed a mix of anticipation and excitement along with some obvious nervousness.  Her boyfriend or coach spoke encouragement over her, reminding her that this day was nothing to worry about.  She had prepared well, and the training was the hardest part.  Her job was to enjoy this day and let it be the crowning achievement of all the work she had already put in. 

Last month I saw Spirit of the Marathon, a documentary chronicling the training and then races of six runners participating in the 2005 Chicago marathon.  The documentarians chose an eclectic bunch.  There was a 70 year old repeat marathoner training and running with his first time participant daughter.  There was an elite Kenyan, hoping to finally take first in Chicago after two or three previous attempts.  There was an Olympic bronze medal winner hoping to win her first marathon ever.  And then there was me.  Well, for all intents and purposes she could have been me.  A 26 year old runner, she was planning to run her first marathon ever after having completed a half the previous year.  Something she said on race morning stuck out to me, and in light of the day of grace which was today, I am cautioned to remember that not all running days are quite so gracious. 

As she got ready to head out for her first 26.2, she prepared mentally for the possibility of failure.  Now that may sound defeatist, but I was encouraged and even inspired by her honesty and realism.  She had prepared well.  She put in the effort – all the long runs and speed work and cross training.  She was ready.  But sometimes things are out of our hands.  All the factors that made today a great running day for me could have easily gone the other way.  There’s the possibility that come April 27^th it could be freezing or worse, sweltering.  The wind may blow as a formidable opponent.  I could get sick.  I could pull a muscle.  Chances are that race day will fall somewhere between the extremes of utopian bliss and all out disaster.  But I know, just like my Spirit of the Marathon kindred spirit, that whatever external factors stack up against me, my failure won’t be because I’m unprepared.  

Because on April 27^th, I will be ready. 

My sport is your sports punishment. (Yes, I know there should be an apostrophe.)

 I’m taking a cue from Kristin Armstrong (ex-wife of Lance and blogger for Runner’s World) by deciding to chronicle my own experience in training for a marathon.  Yeah, remember that whole 26.2 miles in my 26th year thing?  It’s still on, and I figure blogging might provide some much needed accountability in said pursuit. 

Training is going well so far.  I haven’t missed a single long run, although I’ve opted out of a weekday workout here and there in hopes of giving my right knee what seems to be some needed breaks.  I thought getting new shoes would help (which they have somewhat), but the persistent ache recently reminded me of my parking lot mishap last spring.  I was walking back toward West Hall talking on my cell phone when an absentminded driver kind of tapped me (me … not my car … tapped ME) with his car.  “Um, I’ll have to call you back, Stacey … I just got hit by a car.”  I took the driver’s information, but it was just a tap and I seemed to be fine.  My knee was a little sore for the next couple of days, but then everything was back to normal.  I didn’t even remember this until a few days ago when the light bulb came on in regard to my knee.  It’s been almost a year, so the two are probably unrelated.  However, should my training somehow take an unfortunate downhill, I’ve got that “I was hit by a car!” card ready to play.  J 

Another training update … I have a partner!  Back in October when I publically declared my marathon aspirations, I was completely prepared to walk (actually run) that road alone.  However, soon after the declaration, my friend Jamie offered to train and run with me.  I was so surprised.  Jamie’s a natural runner.  She’s tiny and fit and already has a marathon under her belt.  I once heard her say that if she ran another, her goal would be to break four hours.  That’s a nine minute per mile pace.  I can barely run one mile in nine minutes!  Needless to say, I was humbled and honored that she would be willing to train and run with me knowing that there was no way we’d be meeting her goal. 

In all my experience, I must say that running with a partner is infinitely better than running alone.  On and off for the past three years I’ve run with my friend Stacey, and some of our best conversations and moments together were had running.  One dark early morning we head out for a run around Heritage Hills/Mesta Park in what began as a light mist but soon progressed into downpour.  Running and I have a fickle relationship.  Sometimes I hate it.  That morning, however, I have never loved running more.   

Jamie and I have done a couple long runs together, and the “two are better than one” adage still applies.  It makes a remarkable difference.  I still like to go on my own for shorter runs during the week, but any time I hit more than five I thank God for a partner.  I had to run nine by myself a couple weeks ago when Jamie was out of town … yuck.  Picturing myself come April 27th, I am incredible thankful that I won’t be alone. 

This past week was incredibly windy, and being from West Texas I’m a pretty good judge of wind.  I opted for a Wellness Center treadmill over my usual after work outdoor Monday run.  I quickly got bored on the hamster wheel and switched to the indoor track.  I noticed a girl pass me (a couple times I think J) wearing a shirt that said, “My sport is your sports punishment.”  I laughed for two reasons.  First of all, there was no apostrophe in “sports.”  Second of all, it’s so true!  Running was always a punishment growing up.  I ran lines in volleyball for missed serves and miles for missed practices.  For so long I had a mental block against it.  I never thought I could actually enjoy running.  But here I am, training for a race I never thought I would or could do. 

I mentioned Kristin Armstrong at the beginning of this post.  Thanks to my friend Tracy’s recommendation I’ve been reading her blog lately, and something she wrote the other day caught my attention as it could have been my own words.  So because it’s not truly a blog of mine without some sort of quote/lyric/attribution, here is what I think and feel about my own running via the words of Kristin Armstrong (italics mine): 

“And something else entered my mind as I grunted through the final miles to finish 4 minutes slower than my PR.   Something between gratitude and epiphany on the realization scale.  I realized that I am out here, most days of every week, pursuing something that does not come naturally or easily to me.  And I have been doing this for 5 years.  Never in my life, before running, did I ever push hard after something that did not rank high on the list of things that come easily to me.  I have always aspired to/excelled at things that I was already good at.  This probably stems from fear, pride, laziness or some perfection compulsion; my priest or therapist would know for sure.  But running isn’t like that for me.  It’s hard for me.  I struggle.  I suffer.  I get discouraged.  I get mad.  I celebrate, sometimes.  And when I chase after Paige, Katie or any other zippy friend, it’s not because I suck, it’s because they don’t.  Running for Paige is one of her passions, one of her God-given talents, as natural for her as nursing a baby or riding a horse bareback.  It isn’t one of mine, and that is okay with me (or will be as soon as this epiphany sinks in), because I love it anyway…I just love it differently than she does.  I love it the way you love a rivalrous sibling, deep tissue massage, a session with your therapist, giving birth, or a big fight with someone you love.  It doesn’t always feel good in the moment, but ultimately you are a better person for it. 

So I may not always run the way I want to run, race the way I imagine myself racing, and my performance outside may only rarely reflect the runner on the inside, but there is a certain endurance rush reserved for those of us who have to work extra hard just to stand on the start line and dream.   

There is a unique beauty to pursuing the glow that resides just beyond our reach.”