Most of the time, I can't quite put my finger on it- why it is that I run. Of course, physical exercise is generally beneficial in moderation but I think most runners would agree that something much deeper lingers in the hearts of those of us who run. My running friends and I can high five each other for pushing through injuries, getting up early, planning routes, and training for long distances, but I guess if you're not a runner, you might just think we're all nuts.
You might wonder, like my mom, who, after learning that I thought I had a stress fracture, asked, "Was it
worth it?"
Certainly, there is a cost. It takes time to train. It takes discipline. Your toenails might turn black. You might lose them all together. And in my case, for this race, you might develop some really severe back pain. Or a stress fracture. But is it worth it? I thought this was a question worth asking and worth at least attempting to answer.
Which brings me to the story of the race itself.
I had made great efforts to train for this half-marathon, but a week before the race, I had a virus that had me home-bound and kept me from finishing my training schedule. And then there was the back pain. My lower back (my SI joint for all you technical types) had been hurting pretty badly for about a week or two. I attempted a short run six days before the race and couldn't finish two miles before I started limping.
Yikes.I gave myself a 25% chance of being able to do this thing at all.
But back pain or no, I lined up along with the other 22,000 entered into Dallas' White Rock Marathon to embark upon the 13.1 miles that we had been anticipating for months. We prayed for healing and strength and we almost froze our patooties off waiting for the race to start but we finally got our turn to take off. After our hour long wait, we took off at a nice, quick, comfortable clip. With faster heart rates and rising core temperatures, we shed our gloves and purple plastic ponchos. A couple of water spills up the nose and a splash of Gatorade later, we were enjoying a good pace. My back felt great and there wasn't even a hint pain. Amazing. But on the punishing incline that came around mile nine, I slowed way down, started feeling the pain, lost my buddy, and pressed in to the only thing I could- the heart of God Himself.
And this is when I caught a little revelation on why I run.
At mile nine, when I was down and tired and hurting, I was praying. Intensely praying.
When you get to that point, you start to understand why Paul uses running imagery in his letters to the Corinthians and the Galatians and the Philippians. You start to understand Hebrews 12:1 and what it means to "run with perseverance the race marked out for us."
Running, for me, is an act of worship. When I run, it's just me and my God. My heart and my music are focused on Him and I am thrust into an interaction with Jesus that is holy and potent.
When all you have is the Lord and a race to run, you start to understand how your life is nothing more than that. You press into Him, you ask Him for strength, and you finish- despite the pain. It's just like life. The pain is inevitable, but if you press into Him, He enables and empowers you to finish well. And then, when you look to Him, He is your crown, your prize, your very great reward.
So I pressed in and pressed on, reminded of the temporary nature of the pain. The race would end. The Lord was with me.
And then, after I had passed that beautiful 12 mile marker, I got a text that blew my mind and made me cry.
It was Nora.
She was waiting at mile 13.
She was waiting for me so we could finish that last tenth of a mile together.
Now, this may just come across as kind of sweet, but when you are running a race like this, it's a really big deal to stop. You lose momentum and you lose your best time.
It was a big deal.
As we crossed the finish line
together, I teared up again thinking about how my friend was so kind and how she gave me such a neat glimpse of Jesus and His selfless love. And all of that after I had set my eyes on Him. He had showed up, beaming through the eyes of my patient friend.
We were just running. It's not like we were feeding the hungry or rescuing orphans, but what we did last Sunday fuels our hearts. The experience of doing something hard with the Lord binds our hearts to Him, it binds us to each other, and we are prepared to face the injustices of the world and the pain of life with greater perseverance and greater trust that the Lord sees us, hears us, strengthens us, and empowers us to do all that He has called us to do.
Some people may think that running 13.1 miles is a big deal, but it's really a small deal that helps us do the bigger deal of living life and loving God and people well.
And that, to me, makes it all worth it.
As for me, I'm hooked. As long as I can, I'll be lacing up and hitting the roads.
Because I know Someone who always meets me there.
Hebrews 12:1 Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.
PS- the link to our crazy post-race pic is here.
And PSS- Nora is totally Lightning McQueen to my Mr. The King. If you've seen the movie, that's totally how it ended. The analogy breaks down with Nora not needing a lesson on arrogance and my not being a famous racer... that and us not being cars and all, but still... great analogy. (Props, Korrie!)
