That One Time I Ran for Her Life

Running a 5k didn’t change me. It moved me. Forward. Literally.

Friday night, Baby Girl Mo decided sleep wasn’t that important and so we pulled a close-to-all-nighter. That was fun.

At 5:40AM, my melodic alarm started singing to me and I wish I could say I popped out of bed, bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to run on behalf of girls I love and hold dearly.

But rather, I cursed it’s robotic nature and hit the snooze button. Nine more minutes. I just need nine more minutes, because nine more minutes will definitely solve exhaustion.

Nine minutes later, I whipped off the covers, sat up as fast as I could, waiting for the rush of excitement, anxiousness, anything to get me moving.

And then I actually looked at my alarm. I’d forgotten I titled that morning’s alarm She’s been up all night. You run for her.

That moved me.

With each piece of clothing I pulled on, I prayed over the homes of My Refuge House. For each girl who finds safety and love and freedom in their four walls, though I don’t know their names.

With each strand of hair I braided, I thought about the millions still trapped in the sex trade, this disgusting business that somehow thrives in this world.

With each shoe lace I weaved into their sturdy double knots, I wept knowing the She I was running for told my friend Crystal only weeks before, I never knew this kind of love existed. And she wasn’t talking about romantic, fuzzy, over the top love. She was talking about the kind of love that hugs, clothes, feeds, and laughs with a child.

Basic yet powerful love.

That’s why I’m running, I coached myself. But by that point, I didn’t need anymore coaching. I was ready to run across the world for her.