The Race

The morning finally came.

It was welcomed by a terrible nights sleep, but a glorious sunrise.

A friend and I stayed at the Lodge in Deadwood (wouldn't recommend it if you'd like a good bed to sleep in). Our room was beautiful, but the sleep was not. I woke for the first time in a while with a back ache. 

 

And all of this before running the Deadwood-Mickelson Trail Half Marathon.

"Oh well," I thought to myself, "life goes on. I have to take the cards that are dealt me and do the best I can with them." (I thought that was appropriate as I was in Deadwood, the gambling capital of South Dakota.)

I spent some time outside basking in the colorful sunrise the Lord saw fit to bless the day with, and reread Nehemiah 9. "Arise, bless the LORD your God forever and ever! O may Your glorious name be blessed and exalted above all blessing and praise! You alone are the LORD. You made the heavens, the heaven of heavens with all their host, the earth and all that is on it, the seas and all that is in them. You give life to all of them and the heavenly host bows before You." (emphasis mine)

We boarded the bus that would take us south of Lead-Deadwood to Rochford, where the Half would start.

I was nervous. I've never done something like this before. I wouldn't even say that I'm a "runner" as so many there obviously were. I enjoy a good jog, but I've only been running (more like jogging) since February when I started working up to being able to run an entire three miles.

Running by oneself is very different than with a pack. I was soon passed by many people. Including very old men. Wow. I hope I'm that physically fit when I'm that age! 

I've come to discover that between six and eight miles I can maintain a decent jog. Going beyond that I slow down as I want to finish and not die in the process. I started to greatly look forward to each aid station, about every two miles, that had water, bananas, oranges and pretzels. 

My goal was to finish. It was also to run the entire way. I'd been training so hard for this, and wanted to finish well. Even if it took me a long time because I had to go slow, I was determined to run the whole thing.

It was so easy to want to give up and walk.

About half way, I was passed by yet another person. 
This person has no idea how much of an encouragement they were to me. She was wearing a sweatshirt that read: "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith;" ~2 Timothy 4:7

I started to cry. And it made me wonder: 

does it really matter how I run, as long as I finish?

I think it does for me. "I have finished the course." If I change how the course is being run, while on it, am I truly finishing it? I think it matters how I run the course of life, with Jesus. It matters that I'm consistent, that I press on, that I keep my eyes fixed on Him. Not walking when I know I need to press on and run. Not thinking to myself, "This is so hard! I can't run anymore! It's OK if I walk, as long as I finish."

"I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." (Phil. 3:14). 

I keep going. I stay constant. I keep my gaze fixed on the eternal goal, Who is Jesus Christ. Not wavering. Not stopped. But pressing on. 

If what I'm staying is a bit confusing, I'm sorry. The thoughts in my brain don't always come out as I wish they would. I hope this make sense. I hope you can understand the profound effect this had on me that day.

I didn't finish in the time I hoped I would (2.5 hrs). I finished in 3. But I finished. And, I ran the whole time. Yes, sometimes it was very slow. But I ran. I ran the best that my strength could allow and to the best of my ability.

I finished.

Now, to keep pressing on in the race that truly matters.