I did. I thought my prayer was not answered, but I have come to believe it was answered, but the faith I got was in myself. This thought made me giggle this morning while I was running. It was several decades ago (about three, I think) that I asked for a sign. A few days or weeks ago, I came across an admonition from the Bible not to expect signs. I justified the request for a sign that I made this morning. I run about 10 miles a week, 5 miles on Wednesday and five more on Saturday, but two weeks ago, I kicked a section of sidewalk lifted about an inch by a tree's growing roots, and went "splat" on the sidewalk. I ran four more miles after that, and am nearly completely healed today.
Last Wednesday, a week and a half after my spill, I noticed a pain at the front of my right hip, as if the top of my quadriceps or the bottom of my psoas on the right was inflamed. I walked the last half mile because the pain got too strong. That was three days ago. I can still feel the pain, but I walk just about every morning that I don't run, and this helped whatever that was to heal. However, when I run the five miles, I can climb hills or go around them, and that was the decision that prompted me to request a sign today.
Exercise helps us heal, but too much can retard or reverse the healing, and a high tolerance for pain can hide the signs of this danger. I could choose randomly, or take the easy way or the hard way, whatever I wanted, but I thought maybe the universe could help me decide, since it might know better (or be luckier in choosing), so I asked for a sign. The Bible verse came to mind, and I considered the warning. Out loud, I think, I said "But I don't want to put myself above you," addressing the universe, or God, if you like. When I'm not sure of the best choice, even if I am pulled inexplicably one way or the other, I seek confirmation in randomness, or from God, or the universe, if you like :-).
I tend to fly by the seat of my pants when prior analysis doesn't clearly indicate the best way. It's a form of experimentation and I learn from it. I like to anthropomorphize the hills and mountains on which I run and imagine that they like when creatures climb them. Often, at the beginning of my run, I address them with love, telling them either "Sorry, I'm too tired/injured/lazy today," or "Yes, I will mount you today!" (more often the latter, thankfully!)
On Wednesday, I may have climbed some and perhaps didn't pay enough attention to how I was running to protect the front of my right hip from whatever made it hurt. My love lent me a book called "Chi Running" by Danny Dreyer in which Danny suggests trying to keep your hips level while you run "so you don't spill your chi." He also suggests lifting your feet up behind you as you run rather than in front of you. These things seemed to help with the pain today as I ran, and also near the end of my run on Wednesday.
I have run in those hills many times, but it had been a while since I went the way I went this morning, and I saw a hill to the left and flatter path to the right at one point. My memory of "the way around the hills" was "going left", and this fork in the road was the opposite. That's how I interpreted the sign, that if I use the "go around the hills" strategy, I'm going to end up going up a hill.
A few steps later, I realized I had been down that path before, and so buried deep in my mind was an awareness that this was not a sign, but a subconscious choice to do the hard thing instead of the easy one. I traversed the hill and returned to a flat part of the path after running downhill for a couple hundred feet. I wasn't paying a lot of attention to where my feet were going and one of them kicked a rock out of the way. It reminded me of the raised sidewalk that tripped me two weeks ago, but the rock didn't trip me. Instead, it reminded me that I recover quickly, I bounce right back, and that my tolerance for pain is high. It made me realize that my faith in myself was very strong, and that I had once prayed for faith. It made me realize that my very old prayer had been answered by a life of my own choices to be honest, recognize my errors, learn from them, and give people grace whenever I could. This is what made me giggle. Giggling is a sign of joy. May you giggle often and with vigor!
