Before I ever went to school in the United States I spent a lot of time living in Jamaica.
I used to run, a lot. I would run with my mom—up and around Steer Town, along the undefined curbside, in the middle of the streets, between brick and tin shacks, and almost always at an incline on the way out.
The view from the water pipe and at the top of Chalky Hill was unbeatable. Houses—developing country houses, not the houses like you and I have here—in between the dense greenery that spread down before breaking for the ocean.
The way up was really hard, all the time. The way down though, bliss. While almost always as challenging on my quads, it was always just more pleasant.
I let gravity take me as my mom would yell for me to slow down, afraid I would break an ankle in any one of my steps on the uneven and unpaved roads littered with potholes. I trusted myself. I trusted my body.
I used to swim, a lot. More specifically I spent a lot of time spearfishing—out past the second reef, diving with just my snorkels, spear, and a wire for fish trailing behind me.
I swam where I couldn’t see, sometimes gripped by fear of some shark coming out of nowhere in the open levels of various blues.
Sometimes the water was so milky near the reefs I didn’t know where the coral was. Or where the black poisonous sea urchins with 6” spears were. Sometimes the water pulled in so many ways I didn’t know what direction to go even if I could see the shore.
But I swam, a lot.
In the last several months I’ve been working on building my new found faith. And in the last week there’s been this recurring theme: Trust God, trust that he’s got you wherever you are, there he is.
Last week we did a hill run, 5 rounds up and down—it was steep. And it was raining. The first part was mud, the next snow and the next ice. The first trip up was tough on the calves, but mostly laughter because we were falling all over the place. And then the way down, a disaster of focused steps that would have been easier if we just sat down and slid.
But I got a rhythm and became a competitor on that hill. And in that moment, I realized it didn’t matter what was physically on the landscape, I was getting over it.
The third time up my training partner and I passed each other in opposite directions and she said to me, “Okay Rocky.” I was in it.
Something about trusting myself on the way down stirred up the commitment in me on the way up. I didn’t think much about His presence when I was feeling determined to get up on that hill, but on the way down I kept telling myself God’s got me feet, and then I just let go.
I was moving so fast the only problem would be if I actually wanted to stop. But I used the trees from side to side to balance myself out and keep me centered.
God’s got my feet. Of course I have to do the work, but I also have to trust that He’s got me wherever I step, because He’s in me, He’s always with me.
That run felt like freedom.
