Who is the Coach?

Since August 1st, I’ve attempted to do a workout every other day.

Birthdays, however, do not count.

In total, I’ve done 6 in 15 days. I’ll go later today, so I’m not too far off track.

Thank God it’s football preseason, and I finally have an NFL team.

So it’s not been easy making this a habit, given my hatred of exercise and exercise-induced asthma I’m trying to keep at bay. Add in an indulgent birthday lunch and dinner, and you might think I’d be way off track.  Especially when I really hate gyms.

Because Rejection.

It started in gym class in elementary school, and never let up. When you’re the last kid chosen, every time, it hurts your psyche.  I could run really fast for 10 seconds, but nothing beyond that. I have little natural coordination, due to my left-eye dominance but right-handedness and lack of good depth perception. Now I know my “I need a drink of water” was actually exercise-induced asthma. 

As an adult, the lack of coordination meant I failed at aerobics class, step class, and more recently, Zumba. It also meant I looked like a fool, which didn’t do wonders for anything.

Hiking, biking and swimming have always been the only sports I’ve loved, in part due to the solitary nature. So the gym, now, is hard. People are there who won’t talk to me unless they are paid to. You know some of them are judgey and they’re secretly judging you (although this point actually doesn’t bug me!) I also rarely experience “feeling better” after exercise; my body does not reward me with endorphins for my efforts.

Thankfully this is also there!!! Go Browns!!

So, I’m unfit and have excuses not to go to the gym.  But I’m going.

My third trip to the gym I begged the Buckeye to go. Begged.  Pleaded. I wanted a cheerleader, and as my husband he seemed the logical choice. He refused, clinging to his outdoor hikes. With so many things denied to him since his accident, it’s the one thing he insists on. I can’t join him due my asthma flaring hard over 100 degrees, and the dust and pollution doesn’t help.

I taped my gym ID card to my inhaler so I won’t forget it. 

So he wouldn’t go, I was poopy about it and whined a lot. I also inwardly whined a lot about church that night, as I felt the same way there that I did at the gym:

I’m supposed to go. I know it’s good for me. People there, however, are potentially judgey and judging me. No one is talking to me unless they are paid.  Just like exercise.

Our pretty little mid-century Spanish revival church. In truth, the people have been very welcoming and friendly, it’s me who has the issues. The preaching is excellent, and always thought-provoking.

Thought-provoking.  Another thing exercise and church have in common, but in this instance, a good thing.

As of late, I have been listening to podcasts or even watching YouTube videos at the gym. It takes my mind off my body struggling, and makes better use of my time. I admit, filling my head with Browns preseason stats may be questionable as a better use of my time, but at least I’m learning something new, as I’ve never followed the NFL before, and I’m still learning the Browns history. 

Apparently it’s not pretty, just like my history with exercise 😂😂

So as I struggle with exercise, and admit I struggle with church for many of the same reasons, I find I look more and more to the Buckeye as my cheerleader or coach. He knows what’s good for me, and as my partner, he’ll lead me down the right path in these two areas I struggle with, yes?

I love this clip from Facing the Giants. The coach encouraging his QB, and the resulting accomplishment is inspiring:

It actually came up in my Facebook memories this month, and I watched it wistfully, wishing the Buckeye would encourage me like the coach did.

And then I watched it again.

And listened carefully to what the coach said to Brock.

He asked if he’d already accepted defeat, before a game was played.

He then asked for his absolute best, and blindfolded him.

With his trust only in his coach, the kid set out to do his best...and did five times as much as he had done before.

And at the end, the Coach pointed out Brock wasn’t using his God-given talents by giving up before a game.

I watched it again...listening to what the Coach said...and realized that as much as I wanted the Buckeye to be my coach, that was wrong of me.

God is my head coach.

It’s really tough lately.

I’m not talking about exercise or church, I’m talking about life.  

Both the Buckeye and I are worn down, the past year taking a toll on both of us in different ways.  It’s been very hard, for many different reasons.  He’s not yet back to 100%, and yet circumstances demand more.  I’m trying my best to support him through his recovery, but my own challenges I ultimately face on my own.

Blonde highlights. No lavender, rose gold, neon orange/yellow/lime green, no forest green or sapphire hair to be seen.  Sigh.

As I face the challenges, I know I’m not strong enough. I know my body is weak and my soul is worn out. For much of this year, I was defeated before I even played the game.  I longed for a coach, a cheerleader, a partner.

“Don’t quit until you got nothing left.”

“It hurts.”

Yes, it hurts.  It’s hurt for so many years. So many years of being an optimistic that things will get better. So many years of driving only to be shut down by people and circumstances out of your control. So many years of disappointment. So much pain of being rejected, over and over.

And yet, have I given it my best?

No, I haven’t. I’ve walked around defeated since 2008, when my sister committed suicide, my best friend betrayed me and turned a church against me. It was then the King withdrew, and our downward spiral began. In this mess I tried to keep swimming, tried to rescue my children.  While I’ve seen flickers of the success I once was, I’ve walked into every game defeated. The occasional wins are hard, drawn out battles, that sap what little strength I have. To give my best would mean it might hurt more, that I might get hurt worse than I already am. People are not to be trusted, and yet I’ve long for a coach to pull along side.

What I’ve needed was already sustaining me...I just hadn’t thought to look to God as my cheerleader and coach before.

Right now, He’s calling on me to do my very best. Circumstances that trigger fear and the desire to flee are surrounding me; circumstances that I barely survived years ago. Last night I was overcome with worry after the Buckeye had fallen asleep, as I tried to stifle tears I couldn’t help but think of this death crawl scene.

I’m carrying a great weight: a good weight, one I’m proud to carry. I love my husband, my children and my business. Right now, circumstances are piled on top of all of us; it’s this extra weight that hurts.  If God is my coach, and I’m blindfolded but trusting in Him this I know:

If I fall, He’ll pick me up. I am never not safe.

But if I trust Him and dig deep, if I negotiate with my body for more strength, if I give it my very best, if I don’t quit, if I put my heart into it...where can I carry my weight to? What circumstances will be shed as I push through? What can I inspire in others? What successes are just yards away?

“God gifted you with the ability of leadership. Don’t waste it.”

I feel as if I have wasted too much. 

I once lead a team to $42 million in sales, with a product that averaged $25 in value. Ahead of me right now is a campaign I created, that I know has all the earmarks of success. I know my market, my pricing, my customer. I have spent three years investing in it. I know what to do.

“It hurts.”

All the weight of the world seems added to my shoulders, and the tears that flow too easily are proof. And yet, last night...

“I know it hurts! You keep going! You keep going!

Its all heart from here!

Thrity more steps! You keep going!

Come on! Keep going!”

Me: It burns!

“Let it burn! Its all heart! You keep going! Come on! Come on! Keep going! You promise me your best! Your best! Don’t stop! Keep going!”

Me: Too hard!

“Its not too hard! You keep going! Come on!

Give me more! Give me more! Keep going!

Twenty more steps! Twenty more steps!

Keep going, give me your best!

Don’t quit! No!

Keep going! Keep going! Keep going!

Don’t quit! Don’t quit! Don’t quit!

You don’t quit!”

I’m not in the end zone yet.  My weight is still upon me.  But last night I heard my coach, and I was reminded to cast my cares on Him.  I was reminded that His Grace is sufficient for me. I was reminded that Love never fails. I was reminded I can chose to be patience, kind and long suffering.  I was reminded I haven’t given my best in a very long time...and perhaps it was time to put on a blindfold and give my best, knowing God was my coach, my cheerleader, and the one who held me in safety.

My Buckeye.  I am blessed beyond measure to have him by my side. 

Yesterday I did go to the gym, for my seventh workout in fifteen days.  The Buckeye went with me, and took up on the treadmill next to me. I was delighted to see that without consulting one another, our speed and incline rates were the same; truly we are a well-matched team.  He conceded that the workout in air conditioning was pleasant, and recanted on his earlier declarations that he wouldn’t work out with me there.  It seems my leadership in going every other day has inspired him to be better as well....

My heart is so full of love for him ❤️


My crawl is far from over, and I don’t know where the end zone is. I hadn’t been giving it my best; I’d just tried to survive. I’m seeing now that I have a choice: it’s my choice to listen to my coach whom I’ve ignored due to my leeriness of people in the church. It’s my choice to build myself up spiritually, as I’ve started to do with my body. It’s my choice to overcome my past failures to succeed with new adventures today.  No, I’m not at the end zone. But my inability to move must end or I’ll never make it.  Yes, my spirit is unfit, just like my body. I have excuses not to go to church and not to study God’s word, but that doesn’t matter. Like my body, I need to start conditioning my spirit and soul...whether people reject me or not. Now that I can hear my coach over all of the din, something has changed.

Yes, it still hurts. Yes, it’s too much.

Just don’t quit.

Sent to me at exactly the right moment by a friend-my coach works through people, too. 

This time, I’m determined to give my best. I’m trusting God the well-timed help will come just when I need it. But for now-I need to do what I know to do.

Not quit.