One Run

One run.  Seems simple enough.  Boring even to some.  I mean really, what’s the benefit that makes it so necessary?  Can one run change your life? Probably not.  Can it change your perspective? Most definitely.

Aside from the obvious physical perks of better health and all that goodness, some days that one run teaches me more about myself then I could have ever imagined….

Some things good, encouraging even; some things ugly, scary perhaps.

The lawyer in my head giving his best case as to why I should give up because the anvils I formerly called my legs are screaming for mercy.

The whining that can go on makes me want to run faster, away from myself!  I mean, I can’t stand when my daughter whines but when it’s the voice in my head I can’t escape, that will about make you mad.

Some runs feel like a nonstop battle of good vs. evil, which in and of itself can be utterly exhausting.

Those hard runs can stir those feelings of doubt, as a runner of course, but also as a wife, mother, friend?

 

But then there are those runs I didn’t want to do to begin with:

I was tired.

Not feeling good.

Not in the mood.

Oh so comfy snuggled in my bed.

 

And I went anyway. I won the battle with the nonsense excuses and told my body to get in line.

I ran even when it was hard.  I didn’t stop. 

I pushed boundaries. Pushed miles. Pushed pace.

I ran and ran and ran some more.

I finished the race.  Overcame the obstacles.

I superseded my own expectations (or even own limitations) to surprise myself. 

I PR’d.  I pushed myself to the limits and refused to concede.

 

Sometimes I finish those runs, the ones I didn’t want to get out of my warm heaven for, and feel as cruddy and exhausted as when I started.  It was hard.  My body was tired. There will always be those days.

But I learn from that one run.  Learn where there is still weakness.  Physically and mentally.  Where there is doubt in myself.  Fear, even. The question of ‘good enough’ will again rear its ugly head.

I also learn my strength.  Courage in the face of fear and doubt.  That my body is beautiful in so many ways.  That I am an overcomer.  That I am only required to give my best, in every situation, not perfection.  Give the best of myself to my husband, daughter, friends.

 And I learn that my feelings don’t rule my future. 

My doubts don’t dictate my destiny.

 My fear doesn’t determine my fate.

 Yes, I can learn all that from one run…..

 

The Perfect Storm

So, it happened, I finally had my worst race ever.  Worst time ever.  Worst run ever.  I’d always heard or read about people bombing a race and totally crashing, hitting that wall, but had never experienced it for myself.  I guess it was about time, and the conditions were perfect….

I ran my second half on the 4^th of July, my third overall.  It was a month and a half after the last one I did in Denver so I figured it was enough time to recover but easily jump back into training.  I had been dealing with some tendonitis in my foot coming off the last race so it was a full 2 weeks before I could start training but I figured a full month would be plenty.  Sure, probably had I been training a little more consistently. 

Life happens as it always does and I didn’t always get in all my weekly runs, but I’d just finished my last half in great time, I’ll be fine I thought. 

I also hadn’t taken into consideration that it was now going into June and now I’m training in the summer.  In Colorado.  At elevation.  Holy hotness! Training in the summer is already hard but the sun out here is no joke.  I was struggling with the heat but figured it was just a minor detail, I got this.

It was also coming on ‘that time’ and I was feeling uber drained. But I figured it’s a part of life you’ll just have to push through, everyone does it.

Then the week of the race, my lovely daughter who is learning to share decides to practice on me.  And shares her chest cold. Thanks.  It was a full-on head congestion, can’t breathe because someone is sitting on my chest, wake up in the middle of the night to a coughing fit type cold.  Lovely, who needs to breathe to run right?? 

And then, to top it off, my girlfriend asks if I want to go hiking at Palmer Park while our husbands mountain bike—absolutely I do! I love hiking! Strapped on the peanut and grabbed my dog for a nice hour and a half hike.  Why is this a bad idea you ask?? Because it’s the NIGHT before the race!! Of course I had thought nothing of it until oh, we’re a good 45 minutes into the walk, realize we may be lost and still have to get back to the cars.  Yaaaa… enough said.

Though I think the biggest factor was that I didn’t feel confident, it was a little hard to with all those factors playing into it. But still, mentally I wasn’t bringing my A game, and that can be a game changer.  And it was.

Oh, it was also an out and back race, so you run to the halfway point and then turn around and run back.  I didn’t really care for that, no change of venue and felt even more aware of how far I had to go. 

But the first 6.5 miles I was cruising! I felt really good, nice and steady; my time was even looking good.  Then we turned around.  And in NOT a good way, it all went downhill from there.  My legs were shot, that hike the night before was taking its toll.  It was like trying to run with concrete beams as legs. 

The chest congestion was wearing on my breathing which was already labored because it was getting warmer and warmer. 

I felt like I could not drink enough water and my GU’s weren’t giving me that little extra boost they usually did.

Every minute it felt like it just got hotter and hotter and with each step I was moving slower and slower.

I was drained.  I felt sapped of all my energy and mentally I was battling to keep moving. 

I have never wanted to quit so bad in my whole life.  It sucked! I kept having to walk (gulp, as I swallow my pride…) because I had nothing left.  I kept passing and being passed by the same handful of people who seemed to be struggling as well.  This wasn’t exactly encouraging but I was just thankful to not be alone. 

And let me be clear, I am in no way judging anyone that does walk or has had to, you do whatever you have to do to finish. This was just my own personal struggle.

This was the greatest mental and physical battle I’ve had running, and it was exhausting!  My pride was definitely bruised each time I had to walk.  But it wasn’t until the old guy, with the POW MIA flag on a large pole sticking out of his backpack, which I had passed on my way back, passed ME, that my pride really took a blow.  Seriously!? But I had nothing left, no second or third wind, no strength in my legs, barely had the willpower to keep moving.  It was all I had to just put one foot in front of the other and hopefully not pass out.

But I finished. Not that I can really say that with much joy, I mean I wasn’t injured so it wasn’t like not finishing was an option. And my time was just sad. It was an ugly finish.  Felt like that saying, something about being as slow as a turtle running through peanut butter… Ya that was me.

 I hurt all over.  But really my pride was hurt more than anything.  And you remember the old guy with the flag?  My husband later told me he started Last. LAST!! I guess my pride needed a good beating.

But I’ll get back up and do it again. Why? Because I love it.

I love running.

Love racing.

Love pushing myself.

Love the sense of accomplishment.

I love knowing that I can do what I set my mind to. 

That means taking the good with the bad but doing my part to prepare.

There were some circumstances that were my fault and some were out of my control, it really was the perfect storm. 

But I’m using this to motivate me to change what I can for future races and life in general, and be ok with what I can’t.  You can’t put in half the work and expect to get 100% of the results. 

We all have a bad race, a bad day. That’s life, it’s going to happen.  You can choose to let it ruin your day, your attitude, or you can pick yourself up and go again!

Aren’t these the times that we learn the most about ourselves?  In those bombed races. When the car takes a dump.  A bad day at work.

It’s when everything falls apart that we see who we really are. 

What we really want. 

And what we have.

Learn the lesson, change what you can, and let go of what’s not in your control. 

My positive spin on all this?  I’ve finally experienced my worst race, woo hoo! So now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, it’s time to move on to the next race….

The View from the Top

I just started training for my 4^th half marathon coming up on Labor Day and am really looking forward to it.  And after my last half that was a total disaster (and will be its own blog later) I really want to redeem myself. 

So a couple weekends ago I set out for my first early morning long run. I had found a new trail online that I hadn’t run before and the only thing I knew about it was it was super close to home and a mix of paved and gravel. Perfect.

I walk out to the trail head just past this random water tower, start my watch and find my pace. A couple minutes in there’s a clearing of the trees and WOW, the most breathtaking view looking over the city. Bright blue, clear sky and the mountains just look majestic. As I follow the trail I realize I’m briskly going down a rather steep hill….and down…and down, quickly. And I knew what this meant: the amazing summit view I started at was going to be the incline I’d have to take to get back to my car at the end of my 6 miles. UGH.

I tried to push that thought out of my head. I got back into a steady pace as I finally made my descent into the surrounding neighborhoods and enjoyed the scenery of a new trail.

Just under 2 miles in I come to an incline. I’m not talking Indiana ‘hills’, I’m talking look straight up and not able to see the nearest plateau. And this one is all red, gravelly dirt. Talk about a glut workout!

I finally made it to the top to see another amazing, breathtaking view.   The city and subdivision I had just run through was laid out before me. I did a slow jog around the lookout point to take it in and then headed on.

And then I come back down. And down. And down. Which normally is heaven and much welcomed, but on this run all I could think about was knowing I’d be running back UP those inclines on the way back. Grrrr.

Mile 3 was a steady incline and I was overlooking the east side of the city now, my neighborhood and stores, still so beautiful. Such an amazing perspective that I never see on my day to day errands. The view from the top truly is amazing.

Until I headed back for the last 3 miles…. I can see 2 major intersections in the direction I’m heading back and then I see it: on the next major ‘hill’ there is the water tower. Gulp. That’s where my car is. That’s where I still have to get to. And I realize once again how high up I am over the city, and how far down, and up, and down I must go.

For a second I was trying to figure out how to have my husband come and get me. I didn’t know exactly where I was. Didn’t even have my phone. But I just wanted him to come find me because I knew what I was facing on the way back. I was having a momentary pity party until reality sunk in, there was no one coming and I still had 3 miles to go.  Either I run back because let’s face it, that’s where the car is. Or I sit here and well, sit here.

So I kept running.

It was rough. It was hot. I was tired. My legs were angry with me. The inclines were unforgiving. But.  I. Kept. Going. And I finished in surprisingly great time.

That was hands down THE hardest, hilliest trail I’ve ever run. The inclines were killer and the downhills weren’t refreshing. But the view! Not to mention I felt like a beast after finishing that!

You hear of people climbing crazy mountains and you see a picture from the top and WOW. The view. But you never realize the sacrifice it took to get there. Granted I’ve never climbed a mountain but right now these are my own personal mountains, my own accomplishments and the views from the top are worth the fight from the bottom.

In every area of our lives we have uphill battles at times. 

 It’s hard.

Life isn’t always easy. It takes work. It takes sacrifice.

Things aren’t always fair. You’re tired.

But the ONLY way to get that view from the top is to never give up. You can sit at the bottom having a pity party and hope someone will come and find you. Or you can put one foot in front of the other and make it happen.  It’s the difference between looking at someone else’s pictures and experiencing the view for yourself…

 

 

 

 

Day In, Day Out

I was talking to my Pastor and friend last night about my upcoming half’s I was training for. And he jokingly pokes me with “So are you going to blog about your runs or just talk about it?”   And he’s right. I like writing. I feel called to write. But sometimes it’s just hard for me to get started.

That evening I went for my run and was thinking over what he said and wondering why I hadn’t felt inspired to write about my runs lately. I’ve run 2 half’s this year and am currently training for 2 more. So it’s easy to say I’ve been running a lot this year.  I feel like I should have so much to say, so much knowledge, so much something but kind of just felt like I was just going through the motions.

And then I realized something rather simple: sometimes my runs are just that, runs. Gasp! Sometimes my training is just that, training. There is no great enlightenment about myself. No great revelation. Sometimes it just feels like I’m just going through my check list.

Breakfast: check. Change diapers: check. Laundry: check. Grocery shop: check. Run: check. Sometimes the day to day isn’t magical or glamorous. Sometimes my runs aren’t all-telling about who I am. Sometimes you put in the work because you have to. I don’t mean for this to sound dreadful by any means. I love being a stay at home mom, serving my husband, taking care of my daughter. But some days it’s just routine, and that’s not bad, but nothing new or exciting happens.

And some days my runs are just runs. I put in the work because I made a commitment for the next race. Because I want to stay healthy and promote an active lifestyle in my family. Because it is great me time. Because I really do love it, even when getting out the door feels like a chore.

And so sometimes I don’t have much to say about running other than I did it today. It was another 3, 6, 9, X miles…. Nothing exciting, nothing to tell. I just did it.

But even in that there IS something it’s telling.

It tells of commitment. It tells of consistency. It tells of not relying on your feelings. It tells that it’s not about the glamour. It tells about sacrifice.

Because the races, the medals, the PR’s, the accomplishments aren’t made at the race. They’re made in the day in day out, humdrum of consistency to train even when you don’t feel like it. Even when it’s not exciting. Even when it’s just another X amount of miles.

The race is where we see the FRUIT of our labor…or lack thereof.

I believe this is how great marriages are made.  And great relationships with your children.

By being consistent. Being on purpose. Sticking to your commitment.   Not living based on emotion. Being present even when it’s hard. Not quitting. Not complaining. Even in the day to day, nothing exciting is happening times. Because those seeds, that foundation you’re building, that time you pour into your family will bear fruit.

Marriage isn’t all passion and excitement and tingly feelings like the movies show. It has its moments for sure. But it is in the day to day that we lay our foundation.… Serving each other. Putting the other first. Doing what needs to be done without complaining.  Enjoying time together. Sitting down for dinner. 

There isn’t a training plan for raising a child.  It takes time. Consistency, even when you’re exhausted. Unconditional love.  Sacrifice.  And lots and lots of stinky diapers.

Just like a race, you will get out what you put in.

So some days you’re just training. Some days you’re just mowing the lawn or playing patty cake for the five thousandth time.

But the rewards will be plenty my friend! Whatever avenue you’re in, never underestimate the day in day out, that’s where the great’s are made!                                                                                                                                             

Let the Good Times Run....

This past Sunday I ran my second half marathon and had a blast.  As the race got closer and closer people would always ask if I was ready for it and to be honest I had to say this was the Least prepared I’ve felt for a race.  I hadn’t built up my weekly mileage as I should have, I was pretty lax in following my training plan, I hadn’t run in over a year, had a baby, the altitude was still a factor in affecting my pace and at times felt I had hit a wall or boredom with the day to day runs.  And of course the week of the race my foot started hurting whenever I walked and it sounded like tendonitis, awesome.

I actually preferred my long runs over the short weekly mileage because I would pick out a new trail every time and go run it. The new trail, scenery, the exploration of a new place really made the run enjoyable and the miles fly by. 

Usually my runs are my quiet time with the Lord, I can clear my head, work through things and just enjoy a great workout; but lately they’ve just been runs.  No grand conversations with the Lord, no great breakthroughs, no revelations or insight. Just runs. And hard ones at that.  I didn’t feel like I was making progress, instead of feeling like I was building on the last run, every run was just work. Some days I couldn’t seem to catch my breath the whole time. I wasn’t finding the joy in my run like I used to. This was Hard!  And that was frustrating. But I had signed up, made a commitment and would follow through, no matter how slow or ugly it was.  I have a little person who will always be watching me… How do I react when things are hard? Do I quit? Do I give up? Or do I persevere? Stick to my commitment?  I can’t expect her to do any differently than I myself can example.  It should be Do as I DO….

So I pushed along and finished my last long run feeling good going into the race, until the foot pain of course.  It seemed to get worse and everything I read and heard was rest, rest, rest. So I opted not to run at all the week before the race and pray that that would be enough rest and my foot would hold out through the whole 13.1 miles.

We drove up to Denver the day before, went to the Expo, got all settled in and I was oddly calm. Excited, but not nervous like my first half.  Even as we were lining up, waiting for my coral to be released there wasn’t that anxiousness and ‘Ohmygosh I have to pee Again!’, but a calm and excitedness, I was really looking forward to this!  I love the buzz in the air, thousands of other people who are up at 5 am as well because they love to run!  For one older lady in my coral, this was her 65^th half marathon! Mad props….

My coral was released and I was off, trying not to go out too fast and trying to get a feel for my foot.  It hurt on and off the whole run but was very manageable.  We ran through the Denver Zoo, through some beautiful (and some not so much) neighborhoods and through the Aurora Fire Station.  I didn’t turn on my IPod until the last 2 miles. I took in everything on the run, the funny signs—my favorite: “I didn’t get up this early to watch you Walk!”, the people sitting in their front yards eating a bowl of cereal and coffee, the animals in the zoo, the view of the mountains in the distance, all the different people around me.  It was awesome. 

The last 3 miles I was all out going for it, I didn’t want to finish and feel like I could keep running.  I was booking and it was so much fun! I saw my family waving about a mile before the finish line and that gave me an extra boost, they always make me smile.  Of course the last mile lasted at least 2, felt like forever but as I saw the finish line in view I, as I always do, picked as many people that were in front of me to pass before crossing the finish line. I was flying!  I love pushing myself and my body, pushing the boundaries in my head, pushing my body when it thinks it’s done and surprising myself. 

I finished a minute and a half slower than my first half 2 years ago, So close! Stupid bathroom break… But with all the factors going against me…. Altitude, poor training, not having run for over a year, had a baby, bum foot; I proved I could still press through.  Yes, running is just that, running, but it’s something I love.  I find more of myself in each run, especially the crappy ones.  My true character comes out, the real attitude, the real me—good, bad, and ugly. 

Training for my first half went very smoothly and I found a great sense of accomplishment in finishing.  Training for this one was Way harder, a lot more to overcome, but this time in the end I found a great sense of joy, again. I’m already signing up for my next half in July!

So what do you love? What is your passion? Go after it! As Pastor Brock always says, Live Your Love! Don’t let the day to day or overwhelming obstacles keep you from it. There will always be a reason you think shouldn’t or can’t, but when the guy pushing his disabled adult son in a full length wheelchair passed me, I knew I had no good reason why I couldn’t do what I love.  So I keep running….

 

Mommyhood

I wrote this a few months ago and just came across it, thought it was fittng and a nice reminder this Mother's Day...

You can do all you know, read & are advised in preparation for being a mom, but there’s just no way to grasp what is about to happen in your life until you experience that life changing moment.  People can talk about being tired from the first months of sleepless nights, but until you Are that walking zombie, you just don’t know.  You can hear about morning sickness & your body no longer becoming your own over the 9 months, but until you spend months in the bathroom & that baby bump gets in the way of your daily routine, you just can’t understand.  And people can tell you about that moment your child is born, but until you Hear their first cry with your own ears & see that little person wriggling about with life, you will never truly understand how Much your life is about to change. Or how much you could love someone you just met.

Peanut is 8 months old and is an ever-rambunctious, curious, adventurous, chatty little girl with a joyful personality and a busy little body.  My life changed the moment I heard her cry and has been changing ever since.  But not in the “I can never go back to my old, fun ways” but rather I got a promotion into Mommyhood.  That almost secret society of women that you just Can’t seem to understand until you’re there.  Because again, talking or hearing about it just can’t express what it means. 

Sadly I felt like I heard a lot more, almost complaining, if you will from other moms about that transition.  The lack of sleep, which was Rough to say the least. But in that I had to learn Patience, seriously relying on the Lord to help me keep sane when I just couldn’t get her to stop crying & go to sleep!  Because really, it was my own selfishness that I was tired & crabby and She was keeping me from my beloved sleep.  But do I let her dictate my mood or response? Gosh, I hope not.  Hearing how they can become ‘such brats’ and ‘won’t listen’ and it all made me sad because while yes, she has her moments, she is the child and it is my job to direct her & teach her.  To respond in love & discipline and train her up in the way she should go.  Is it trying some days? Heck ya!  I spend some days All day just telling her no, slapping her hand or toosh & then watching her go back to the same thing Again and doing it all over. 

I feel I have found more joy in learning to be a mom than in most anything else I’ve ever tried or attempted to do in my life.  Has it required sacrifice? Every day.  I have my moments when I Just want to go for a run, but I can’t because it’s too cold to take her with. Or I have to wait til it’s cold & dark when Mr. M gets home.  I can’t join those runs clubs because they run before he gets home to watch her.  Will this season pass? Of course.  Do I still have a mini fit in my head?  Of course.  But I wouldn’t trade it.  Seeing her face light up when I walk in the room in the morning.  Hearing her squeal and ‘talk’ all chatty while playing with her toys.  Getting to watch her learn new things.  Her weird fetish with chewing on shoes and the way she plays with her ears when she eats or is laid down for bed.  These moments will pass too soon & I when I look back I won’t remember the runs I didn’t get to do, but I will remember these moments & I don’t want to have missed them because I was too busy wishing to be somewhere or doing something else.

 

 

 

Not Your Average Beauty

I’ve started training for my second half marathon this past month & just finished up a not too bad run this evening.  As I was finishing my hair in the bathroom I realized, I have my body back. 

Now it’s 8.5 months post-baby but I'm not talking baby weight.  The baby weight came off quite some time ago.  And I don’t mean I’m finally back to pre-baby shape because I have a ways to go to get there. 

What I mean is, I see the beauty again.  And by that I don’t mean physical beauty.  As women especially I feel like we need to redefine what the word Beauty even means because we have been bombarded with such a deceptive & self-deprecating understanding of that word. 

 I mean that beauty that you find in using your body for those things it was created for.

Those things that exhilarate you. 

Those things you have a burning passion for. 

Those things that bring you joy. 

When you are more you than any other time. 

Those moments may be short or long, and there can be more than just one.  One of them for me is running.  Seeing how far I can push myself, what I can discipline my body to do and enjoying the fruits of it. 

 I get such joy out of running; physically it is great for my body but also for my mind.

It’s ME time.  It’s quiet time with the Lord.   

For others it may be painting or cooking or mountain climbing or triathlons or being able to play with your kids the way you want.  And that’s what’s so beautiful about it—there is no number we must all meet, no size requirement you must achieve to be able to enjoy the beauty that is already in you. 

 I spent more years than I would like to remember destroying this one & only body but God is faithful, He healed and restored the damage I had done.

But those years of torment and deception, of truly believing beauty was a number or pant size or certain caloric intake has opened my eyes to see what a great and saddening contrast there is between the world’s definition of ‘beauty’ and what God considers beauty. 

From seeing myself through the lies of the enemy, to the eyes of my Creator.   And trust me, God does not see our beauty in our pant size.

 It’s in our hearts! 

It’s when we are using the gifts & temple He has given us and finding joy in it that He is most pleased, that our beauty shines through. 

It’s in our very existence because we were created in His image! 

When you can look and see yourself through His eyes, you see true beauty. 

When you truly find Who you are in Christ you find your beauty within, because He will radiate through you.

When you are doing & fulfilling your call in Him you find your beauty. 

And no one can tell you differently when the One Who created you tells you “you are all beautiful my darling, there is no flaw in you”, Song of Solomon 4:7. 

So I challenge you, have you found your beauty? Do you see it?  Show the world ladies because there are young women out there who don’t know where to look for it and they need you to stand up and show them!

Run This Race

A few months ago I watched my husband, sister and a huge group of friends complete their first (for most) Indy Half Marathon.  It was bittersweet for me because I was excited for all the newbies getting to experience this amazing race for the first time but envious that I was not also out there, toeing the line amidst 30,000+ other runners.  My heart longed to be out there, next to my husband as he ran the mini for the very first time, to be his support, lend him my ‘expert’ advice, and run this journey with him.  But being that I was 8 months pregnant and was unable to run as I had planned during my pregnancy, this was to be a race he’d have to run alone, and I would have to watch.

Everyone had started training in January.  It was cold and wet although it got unseasonably warm in March, it didn’t stick around and it went back into the cooler weather basically up until the week before the Mini.  Since there were lots of new runners I got to hear all their stories about how far they went, their time, how much it sucked or that they puked in someone’s front yard.  This was exciting for me—It was so awesome to see people find they could go further than the boundaries in their head, see them really push themselves and step out and do something they never thought they could.  Breaking those limits they or someone else had put on them at some point in their life.  Breaking the “I could never’s”.

I listened to stories about blisters and new shoes and target heart rates and fueling and when to Gu, crappy runs and PR runs, I was in heaven at least a little. But my heart longed to join them. Longed to run, let my legs go and just cruise. I wanted to be a part of the excitement and buzz.  Vicariously living the race excitement through my husband was still not the same as doing it myself.  What a reflection of our own relationship with the Lord-- that intimacy with the Him only comes when we ourselves enter in, bow our hearts and welcome Him in to that well in our heart that is only meant for Him.  We can never expect to enter in to that intimacy and go deeper without actually entering in ourselves. No one can do it for you.

I actually I learned a lot from being on the spectator side of the race this time.  I realized how much of a passion and lifestyle running has become for me.  I was reminded that no matter how much I want it for someone, they have to want it as much for themselves. No matter how much advice I have to offer, experience or knowledgeable resources I have, everyone has to run their own race, their own way.  I also realized that no matter how fun it was to be the spectator, there is nothing like running that race yourself. The time that was put in, the discipline, the finding the You you never knew was in there, none of that can be found sitting on the sidelines.  Just the same we must each find our own secret garden, prayer closet, holy hole that is between you and the Lord. Your parents’ relationship with the Lord will not sustain you.  Your friends that are on fire for the Lord can never take you to the holy of holies.  I have to want it, I have to discipline myself, no matter how much my mom may want it for me, only I can get to that place with the Lord.

So I found a spot right by the finish line and waited for my husband to cross so he could see me and I could meet him right away. While I was there I got to see the hundreds of other family members and friends there cheering on their loved ones. Saw hundreds and hundreds of people coming in to the finish, some walking, some kicking it in the final dash home, and a few actually collapsing feet from the finish line, all with a look of determination & achievement, and sheer exhaustion.  You could see the toll it took, the sacrifice.  All to cross that finish line and say “I did it”.  Some may find that silly or pointless but in the midst of the legs screaming and blisters and pain you dig deep and find one of two things:  I did Not prepare for this! Or Here we go! And pull from your training and kick it.  And just like our lives, we have those times we must dig deep, but what do you find?  Have you gone deep, dug and filled that well with the Lord so that in those trials you have something to pull from?  Have you put in the time, disciplined yourself, found that secret garden where you meet the Lord and are refreshed, prepared for the final stretch?  Or have you sat back enjoying other’s stories of divine meetings with the Lord?  Not made the time to meet with Him yourself?  Living on your parents’ relationship with the Father?

Are you finding that last oomph for your final kick at the end or are you that guy I passed on the ground feet from the finish line?