race against quitting

Yesterday I ran another half marathon. 

I made it to the starting line, healthy enough and trained “enough”.   I had plantar fasciitis last fall that took a while to overcome.  Most of my runs this summer have happened right in front of my house, running laps back and forth while the kids played.  (My neighbors smile and wave when they see me, but they probably think I’m kinda crazy.  I sorta do too, but it just works for now.) 

I was so grateful to be able to do it, but it was not without trepidation.   I’d done enough of these to know what it requires, what might go wrong, and just how painful, fast or slow that it might be.  

I was sure I’d be the last.  Much slower than most I’d already done.  And honestly I could have let that thought alone stop me from going to the starting line.  Even the day before I wrote these words 

“It’s the last shake out run that I have before tomorrow’s “race”.  I say race in quotations because it’s not going to be a race against any of my previous  half marathon times.  

It’s going to be, a race against… well.  I’m not sure what.  Quitting maybe. 

Yes.  That’s it. This is a race against quitting.”

The morning of, as I sipped my coffee and had my prayer time, more thoughts came in the morning about priorities, motherhood, speed, training, all the things.  But because of all of those things mentioned, I still couldn’t quite finish putting the words all together. I just knew one thing.  

It was time to go, and despite some nerves, I wanted to. 

Things for me are different since I became a mom.  My kids still see me run but not as fast and rarely as far I’ve ever been.  

But I think that’s okay.

I’m not worried about impressive speeds anymore as much as I am an impressive life.  And by impressive I don’t really mean in the of the ways you might think.  Most of them are unmeasurable, but I still want to live an extraordinary life.  Loud or quiet, night and day, right here at home -first and foremost and hopefully most of all.  Right here, where I happen to do most of my anything -runs, work, or otherwise.    

I just want to keep going.  

I don’t reallly care quite so much about speed. Not right now at least. 

If I wanted to work on it I’m sure that I could.  

Though the thought of it feels strange right now.   I just want to run in order to run.  Though I’m sure- even from past experience-  that there’s a better strategy, to be honest I’m not sure i want it right now. I’m more concerned with my kids’ character development (and mine, continuing) than I am with negative splits.  There’s only so much time that I have and I try to be careful and wise with how I spend it well.  I race to get housework done, to finish projects, to write and edit works, to clean up things.  I run to relax my mind and work my body but not to stress it too much. 

Maybe it’s just this season, but it’s mine (for now) and I’m trying to run it well. 

I hope they see and notice me run at other important things- like adventures together, love in the day to day, living life together, fellowship with God, and cheering them on. 

Sometimes I fail miserably.  At the life part even more than the runs.  But I keep trying. 

Just like this race/run. 

My husband checked in with me that morning. “Ready?” “My heart and mind are.”  The unspoken, but heard, was that I wasn’t exactly sure how my body would or was feeling.   Though it might not be as fast as I ever was, i was sure that I’d have the mental toughness to get it done. It’s about accomplishing something more than it is about speed, but I still want to do it well.  

Most of my runs in the peak pace of my  career were negative splits.  That’s when you run the first half at a more conservative pace, so that you can finish well-stronger, faster even than the first.  It takes discipline, to hold back and leave some in your tank for the end.  I knew that wasn’t guaranteed though and I wasn’t sure if my training would be good enough to add up to that.  

I just knew it was going to be good enough to try.  if I just let myself take the shot. 

Toe the line.  

Run the race.  

As I usually feel at the end, it would be worth it. 

So here we go….

As the race started, on a gentle and shaded trail I’d run portions of before, multiple times over the years, my husband and kids cheered me on. I took pictures of them as my husband laughed. Then off I went.  

All that kept going through my mind was the verse about enduring to the end.  

Calm and easy I ran the out and back course.  I was working as hard as I felt comfortable.  Trying to be smart.  Not to  save too much, but not to spend it all. 

On the way back, though, something clicked in.  I don’t know if was muscle memory or brain training or something deep inside me or  what.  But I felt myself click into a different gear.  I didn’t even tell myself to.  It just went.  

So run a negative split, I did.  The speed wasn’t impressive really, but  for how I was feeling overall, I was proud of my efforts.  

Going in, I wasn’t sure if I could run well.  Certainly not a negative split this time.  But in some ways I’ve been training my whole life for that.  At least a lot of running years.  Not every race I’ve done has been a negative split.  Not by a long shot. 

But I want this to be one.  And no, I’m not talking anymore about the one that I finished yesterday.  

The second half, it was different than the first.  It took a digging deep.  It took more strategic eating.  In fact I didn’t eat anything at all the first half.  It took proper hydration.  It took more of my metal energy and letting go of  little motions or efforts that didn’t or wouldn’t matter.  

On the way back I ran up by two people I’d seen in front of me for most of the race.  The man said of the gal, “Watch out for this one.  When she wants to go she just goes.” 

“She’s got it in her, I said.  “I suppose we all do.”  Then I thought to myself. “It’s all about the timing.” I might have said it out loud.  But I was careful and conservative about my output.  I was trying as best I could to pour it into my legs and lungs.  I didn’t see them after a while.  I wasn’t trying to push past them, I just did. 

I listened to a little music on the way back.  Songs about God’s faithfulness.  About Him and how He holds it all together.  About seeing all of His goodness. And I couldn’t help but see the correlation.   

Between me showing up and Him sticking beside me. 

“You never change”.  I heard that truth in my ear. I felt how the stories of and in my body change.  But He never does.  Boy that’s a comforting thought. 

He’s with me when I’m slower and tired, or when I’m capable and strong.  Running, slogging, pacing, overreaching, slowing sitting, racing.  He’s there for all of it.  

But how can I persevere unless I show up, keep showing up? How can I be faithful to walk or run this path if I don’t actually go?

There were a couple of people in the race that really stood out to me.  One was a guy who kept running ahead and then slowing to walk.  For five or six miles I’d see him-burst ahead of me, then put on the brakes and start s brisk walk.   He’d give a peace sign in his left hand and pull over, but he never stopped.  He’d only slow enough to keep going.  At the same overall pace as I was going without any cat and mouse.  There’s no wrong way though. It takes a lot to adjust your pace like that.  Whether based on heart rate or time or whatever other external factor that I didn’t know about, he knew when to pick it up and pull back.  I admired his disciples, and told him so out loud.  Though I’m not sure if he heard me.  Still I’ll assume he finished brilliantly.  The  race doesn’t go to the swift or the flashy, but to the one who has the discipline to, and keeps going. 

Another was a girl that started out at a pace just enough ahead of me that I didn’t think that I’d see her again.  Until I did.  Because she was walking back- towards the start.  ‘No, not that way!’ I thought towards her. I wasn’t sure what happened.  Was she looking for someone or something? Was she nursing an injury? Was she calling it a day? I had no idea why you’d want to back Gracie like that and I didn’t judge or or think her weak or a quitter.  Any competitive nature that may happen in a race moment, of sizing up the completion, immediately goes away in moments like that.  I  just wanted to see her running well.  

Later I saw her on the way back. She was maybe a mile or so behind me.  Maybe less, but I broke into a big smile and waved at her, and she waved and smiled back at me.  ‘That’s it.  That’s where you belong. keep going, and finish this thing,’  was all I  thought, and gladly, she was. 

The last person was a lady that looked much older than me.  She was fit as  could be and we ran step for step for a while.  I guess maybe twenty years.  Which would put her at mid sixties. It didn’t sound possible, so then I adjusted.  Maybe she was only 10 or 15 years old.  She pulled ahead and I lost sight of her for quite a while.  On the way back she came into view again and I thought that maybe I could pick her off (that’s race speak for passing. Talk about that competitive edge spirit-ha! Good naturedly, of course.).  But I never quite caught her.  I told my family about her later as I looked at the races results.  “Did you beat her?” my daughter asked. 

I bet she beat me by a minute or so.  I found her there.  She did beat me by a minute.  And she was in fact, 25 years older than me. 

“That’s something to aspire to,” my husband said.  Yes it is, I thought.  That’s something indeed.  She’s out here running her race, with a longevity that’s impressive.  

If I don’t keep going now, even if I’m slower or “not as good” as I once was, I won’t have any hope to keep going much later either.  

I get things wrong sometimes.  I over train or under prepare. I let myself compete in ways and about things that aren’t even important.  I loose sight of what an accomplishment it is just to be here.  To keep doing as I’m meant to.  Not to be impressive or acknowledged even.  But to keep going forward, with love. 

That’s what matter more than accolades or races or running.  There are things that I’ve traded in for this life right here and all that He’s given to me to manage. There are people that I need to love- well -and sometimes that feels a lot harder than any race.  

Which is helpful, when I run a race, to remember.  It’s helpful when that race is over and the next ones continue too.  Cheering on my neighbors, loving and doing only my own best any given day.  That’s what matters.  

There are races that He’s called each one of us to do.  Some parts are going to be about discipline and keeping a good pace.  Others are going to be about holding back and waiting to really go for it.  Others are going to be about laying it all out there and crushing it.  It’s all about the timing.  

That and knowing how, to keep going.  On your journey and not anyone else’s.  

There’s never enough time to do everything well, so whatever you do, however you show up, you must do it as well as you possibly can.  

“All things being equal” we must, or can,  finish our races well.  

And I don’t mean speed.  I mean all of the other stuff. Toughness. Grit. Determination.  Grace.  Cheering on your neighbor but not judging yourself by their pace.  Being only inspired but not beholden. Making the  decision to keep going as long and as well as you possibly can.  To hold on, to press forward, to the finish line.  

It also legit doesn’t mean you have to get faster.  Sometimes you’re getting stronger even if you’re not getting faster.  Even if we love the thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of speed, the body does changes, the heart changes, the mind changes too.  

One thing that doesn’t have to change is the ability to show up.  

The desire, the need, the knowledge- that it really is about just not stopping.  Not giving up.  Even if you’re slower or faster or weary or wondering.  To keeping showing up.  To keep going as long as you are able.  Not running yourself into the ground.  Not forgetting everything.  But taking all things into account, wisely moving FORWARD. 

Remembering, we aren’t alone.  We don’t do it on our own strength only.  We can rise up with wings as eagles, if we lean in, lean on to Him. We can keep going, with His help- if we don’t give up.  

We’ll eventually reap a reward.  Toe the line.  Run the race.  

As I usually feel at the end, and like I felt  about yesterday, it will be worth it. 

I’ve been talking to the Lord a lot about being slow.  Or maybe better said, He has been talking to me.  

Not about slowing down, or slowing down time, or me being slow or being slow to speak.  

(Those are all good things.) 

But heart has been stirred.  I often feel behind in what I’m supposed to do. In the books that sit as drafts, the date I set to have them completed by long past.  

My running pace has slowed over the years.  My yes hasn’t. But my speed in obedience sure feels like it has.  Maybe it’s my lack of strength, or resources or my own awful time management.  But I feel Him nudging me gently. 

Just to keep going. To trust Him with all of my timing- even when I think I surely must be messing it up.  To trust Him more than my own weaknesses and their ability to mess things up.  

To trust Him. To ask Him for whatever I need and to keep going.  

Because the race surely doesn’t go to the swift or the strong. But to those who keep going and don’t ever give up. 

So I guess that’s what I’ll do.  No matter how many starts and stops it might take me.  He’s greater than all of my weaknesses.  I guess that I’ll just keep trusting Him.  ♥️