Of Races and Running and Pride

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.

Hebrews 12:1

I hate running.

My hate affair started in elementary school being the chubby girl who always came in last. I developed a love for basketball and played all through high school, but had a reputation for fouling out, mostly because I was so slow and didn't quite make it to the ball, nailing the player instead. Being bottom heavy, having a bad knee and birthing hips, I decided my body type was not fit for running. Plus, did I mention I HATE running?

But when I was pregnant with my first child, my brother ran on a cross country team. As I went to his meets, I discovered an admiration for these people punishing themselves. Blame it on pregnancy hormones, but every time a runner crossed the finish line, no matter what place they were in, most being strangers, tears filled my eyes and I marveled at their achievement.

"They did it, they did it," I cried to my husband. He patted my back in wonderful expectant father form.

Fast forward twenty years and I'm sitting on my friend's couch, listening to her talk about tackling a new fitness goal. She decides though she hates running and thinks she stinks at it, she'd like to feel that sense of accomplishment. She talks about how inspired she gets whenever she watches The Biggest Loser and contestants complete a marathon at the end.

Something in me stirs. Is it possible I could do it? I jumped over a life-long hurdle in my life last year I never thought I would. Could this be another to take on? Could I be the one at the finish line someday, tears streaming while I pump my fists in the air saying, "I did it. I did it." Having a partner to hold me accountable the whole time would help. Before I knew what was happening, I agreed to join my friend to train for a 10K.

We started slowly, alternating walking five minutes, running one minute for thirty minutes. I discovered I still hated running (and so did she), but we weren't giving up. We kept at it, pumping ourselves up after every session saying, "We're awesome. We can totally do this." Each week we decreased the walking and increased the running. We weren't loving it, but surviving it, consistently proclaiming our adage, "We're awesome. We can totally do this."

But then my running buddy started to take off. She ran faster and longer than me. She almost looked like she enjoyed it. My good knee started hurting and I felt like a hobbly old woman pushing herself in vain to save face. I flashed back to my chubby girl days watching the backs of the kids in front of me. She sensed my discouragement and tried to set me straight.

"Tami, you're defining success wrong," she said, "You're doing everything I'm doing. You've completed every step. That's success."

I knew she was right, so I worked on an attitude adjustment, and I mean worked HARD. I swallowed my pride and let the speed on my treadmill dip below hers. I concentrated on improving myself and not keeping up with her. I babied my sore knee to make it easier. I got better shoes. I determined I would not psyche myself out with a bad attitude. I would not utter "I hate this" ever again. I completed the training for each day, pushing myself slightly, reconciling myself to the fact that my own pace, though it was slower than hers, would still bring about the desired result--finishing a 10K.

Then one day last week, I got on the treadmill next to my friend with a firm resolve to have a good attitude. I started at her speed, but when my knee started hurting I lowered mine slightly. She decided to run through the one minute walking break and I told myself it was okay to take the break I needed (though secretly it killed me to see her do it so easily). "It's not a competition," I kept telling myself, "I just need to complete the day's training." But my knee kept feeling worse and worse. After about thirty minutes, it couldn't take any more and screamed at me to quit.

I limped around the track, trying to walk it off while she finished another 5-10 minutes of solid running. To say I was frustrated puts it mildly. "You will have a good attitude," I preached to myself, but it took everything in me to hold back the tears. Hadn't I left chubby girl behind? How did she turn into old lady? Hadn't I approached this wisely, slowly? Why couldn't I have success as she was? As I breathed deeply and sniffed back the tears, God reminded me.

Run with perseverance the race marked out for you.

My race. Not her race. My race.

Persevere Tami. It's no different than life. You have setbacks. You live through them and go on. Run with perseverance the race marked out for YOU.

Another opportunity to swallow my pride, another shot in trusting God's plan for my life, another chance to press on.

A LIFE lesson.

Run with perseverance the race marked out for you.

Do you feel like you're lagging behind? Not doing it right? Can't keep up? Are your eyes in the wrong place?

Run with perseverance the race marked out for you.

Your life, your faith, is supposed to be unique, not following the format of another. Don't fall victim to that trap.

Run with perseverance the race marked out for you.

Like so many circumstances in life, this knee thing is a set back, not a deal breaker. I'll give it some rest and take another crack at it. I'll push my pride aside and be happy for my friend who's jumped her own hurdle and signed up to run a 5K in a few weeks. She's awesome. She can totally do this. And I'll get there.

I'll persevere because that's what God calls His children to do. The race He's marked out for me is different than the one marked out for my running buddy and the one He's marked out for you. And that's okay. Success is measured by completion.

Run with perseverance the race marked out for you.