Sore Legs and Shiny Bling

April 29, 2008

Incoming metaphor! Stop, drop, and roll.

I’ve only entered two other races in my short “athletic” career. I completed a half-marathon a couple summers ago which turned out to be a miserable experience due to ridiculously hot weather that slowed me to a pace considered competitive only among potato bugs. By the time I crossed the finish line there were four cheering spectators remaining consisting of D and three friends while the majority of the other competitors and hoards of former spectators were already stationed in an air-conditioned restaurant somewhere chugging down glasses of ice water and munching on chips and salsa.

Several months later I entered a full-marathon in Portland, Oregon, but due to an ankle injury which I’d like to report was from a failed parachute landing rather than an unsuccessful curb step up, I was forced to drop out at mile 12. The pain was making me whimper like a little puppy, the sight and sound of which was depressing the spectators and putting a royal damper on the whole affair.

That’s my long and checkered athletic racing career which led up to Sunday’s 9 miler at Big Sur, and I’m happy to report that not only did I finish the race 238th in a pack of 500 (so what if I had to trip a few to pass them), I had a great time every mile of the way. The weather was amazing and with the course running along the shore of the Pacific Ocean the scenery was eye-popping stunning.

The day’s events included not only the 26.2 mile marathon open to individuals and relay teams and the 9-mile walk/run, but there was also a 5K run and a 10.6 walk/run. The races all had different starting lines; the full marathon and 10.6 mile walk/run were point to point races, meaning they started 26.2 and 10.6 miles out from where the finish line was located; while the 5K and the 9-miler were loop races so that the starting lines ending up morphing into the finishing lines. While all the races had staggered start times, at some point in the morning we were all out on our respective courses at the same time which is quite an amazing feeling to know you’re out on the same road at the same time with the gazelles.

I hadn’t thought all this through before the race since I was just focused on my little part, and in the minutes prior to the race my entire thinking capacity revolved exclusively around calculating when would be the last possible second I could squeeze in one final trip to the porta-potty, gadging whether my shoe laces were too loose or too tight, and scanning the other participants to see if there was anyone who looked like they might possibly be slower than me. It wasn’t until I was less than a half mile from the finish line that what was about to happen dawned on me.

Even before I could see the finish line with its huge inflated vinyl finisher’s arch, I could hear the music and crowds of people cheering just over the rise of the approaching hill and with every step closer more spectators began to gather, waving and applauding and shouting “Good job! You look great! Keep going, you’re almost there!” As we neared the finish line people were standing three rows deep on either side, held back by bright blue waist-high crowd control barriers, and the collective noise of the crowds, a band playing live music, and the announcer on the public sound system was overwhelming and thrilling at the same time. And that’s when I got it. Everyone out on the course that day had run different distances and started at different times but we were all going to be crossing the same finish line…together.

And sure enough, the timing was such that at the very moment I ran under the finisher’s gate, the first few elite marathon runners were crossing over it too. The crowds were cheering like crazy for these incredible athletes who’d just finished running 26.2 in nearly the same time it had taken me to hobble through 9 miles, and because I knew it was for them and not for me I instinctively put my head down and began to shuffle off to the side. The weird thing, no, the amazing thing, was even though the color of my runner’s bib designated me as a competitor in the 9-mile event, when I looked up at the crowds, there were strangers looking right at me, smiling and cheering and saying “Good for you, congratulations!” and the volunteers in their neon green teeshirts at the finisher’s line patted me on the back as they cheered and pointed me toward the row of young people who were there to slip the finisher’s medals around our necks. It didn’t matter what race we’d run or whether we came in first or last; everyone who had entered a race and finished was cheered across the finish line, everyone was greeted with the same enthusiasm by the teams of volunteers, and everyone had a medal slipped around their neck, no medal larger or grander than the other.

On the course that day were a thousand stories. There were athletes who train all their lives for these events and who set personal bests nearly every time their feet strike the asphalt. For some people this marathon was nothing more than an event to keep them loose and ready for the next major marathon they’re planning to run. For others this was their first time to ever enter a race in their lives and they cared more about just crossing the finishing line than how long it would take them to get there. Hansi, a 65 year old woman I’ve known for the past several years completed the full marathon in 3:52 minutes, taking first place in her age division; an achievement she repeats over and over again at the various marathons she participates in around the world every year. Brandon, my 33 year old best male friend in this or any other universe, walked the 9-miler with me despite two blown out knees and chronic pain. There was a man walking with his arm secured in a sling following a recent rotator cuff operation. There was a blind person, a severely overweight woman, a 92 year old man. Everyone that came to the race that day had a different story and a different reason for being there, but we all did our best and were all rewarded when our race was done.

The metaphor here is a no-brainer. Obvious but all the same brought to life for me as I walked the course on Sunday on a brilliantly gorgeous coastal day. The race isn’t the same for everyone. God calls each of us to a plan and a course designed just for our life. You might curve to the right, while I loop around to the left. You might run miles more than I will ever walk, but in the end we’ll find ourselves crossing the same finish line to receive an equal reward from a God who is waiting to welcome us all with the very same joy, pride, and boundless delight.

Yes, I believe that. I gave up the notion of a God of retribution and reward a long time ago for a God who responds not to human merit, sacrifice or works, but acts out of divine mercy and grace originating within and flowing out of the very being of God. Since the same thing awaits us all at the finish line does that mean all reason to do our best is gone? Not at all. On Sunday I did my best despite knowing others would run circles around me and that I’d cross a finish line and get a medal and a finisher’s shirt too. Those had already been promised to me. Just as life everlasting has already been promised through the gift of God given through Christ. No, on Sunday I gave it my best because it was too wonderful of a day to not have done so, to have not honored the race by giving it all I had to give it that day.

I want to walk with Christ each day committed to doing my very best in every moment and of giving my all, not driven to secure a greater reward but compelled by the gratitude of knowing that what awaits is freely given because so great is God’s love, so marvelous is Christ’s gift. It’s grace that makes me want to do my best. To know that whatever my best, your best, in today is enough and is all that God would ever ask of us. A part of the race is behind us.There’s nothing that can be done to change it and so we do what Paul suggests in Philippians 3. We look forward, keeping our eyes focused on what lies ahead. All we have is the next foot fall, the next step on the course that leads to someplace and to something more than we could ever imagine or dream. Today is the day. The race is before us, and I’m honored to be sharing the journey with you!

I just want to do my best in this life. Today I want to love and follow God with all that I am, giving Him my best

Whether others accomplish more (which begs the question who determines what accomplishments

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!

Posted in Christian Living, Love and Grace, SisterFriends, Storytelling