This is Prayer

I don’t always know how to pray.

Sometimes the words just don’t come. I’ve heard people pray my whole life. They all seem to have the perfect words. Long, emotional, powerful thoughts. I used to think that was the only way prayer counted.

But when I try to pray like that, it sucks, because it’s not me.

Running is where I find God anyways.

When I run, I don’t need a script. I don’t need to explain myself. I can just be quiet. Or loud. Or messy. And somehow, it all still counts.

Running is more than movement. It is connection.

Running clears the noise in my head. It’s one of the only places I don’t feel behind. Or broken. Or like I have to prove something.

I just run. And that becomes my prayer.

When life feels heavy, when I’m anxious or overwhelmed, I run to breathe again. To think. To let go of the stuff I’m carrying. To pound my frustration into the pavement. Some days, I cry while I run. Some days I fight through every single step.

But I always see the world around me. God’s creation. It is beautiful and it is flawed. It all matters. Just like me. Just like you.

I can talk to God when life is hard. Or when it’s good. It all counts.

I don’t just run when things are heavy. I run when I’m proud. When I’m happy. When I want to celebrate or need space to just feel free.

Sometimes I’m blasting music. Sometimes I’m praying without words. Sometimes I just let the silence say what I can’t. Prayer isn’t polished, it’s just real.

When I run, it reminds me that God didn’t mess up when He made me.

And that’s not always easy for me to believe. I have spent a lot of time being angry and mad at God for my genetic condition. But God found me on the trail and when I run, I see that with God, all things are possible…or I’m learning that. Life is weird.

But my life feels like I have purpose with the wind in my face, knowing I have run farther than I ever thought possible.

I don’t pray the way everyone else does. But I don’t need to. God still hears me.

And that’s enough.