Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud [multitude] of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight [whatever is prominent, a protuberance], and sin ["to miss the mark"] which clings so closely [besets, hinders], and let us run with endurance [patient steadfastness] the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, Who for the joy that was set before Him endured [bore bravely and calmly] the cross, despising [thought little of] the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. (Hebrews 12:1-2)
I hate running. Unless I'm being chased by a wild animal, I see no purpose in it. So what did I do this weekend? I ran a 5k.
My friends and family were a bit concerned, considering I don't have an athletic physique. My physique would probably be closer to that of a lumpy pear, but I've worked hard to lose almost 50 pounds in the last year. I'm a work in progress.
This stage of my healing journey is filled with making myself do things that I don't want to do (or that I'm afraid of doing). Since I'd rather be doing anything but running, I decided to make myself do it. I want to be fearless.
Most training programs suggest 8+ weeks to train for a 5k. I had about two. Every other night after the kids were in bed, I'd be out running laps around the neighborhood. I think my mom began to question my sanity as I'd drop to the floor utterly breathless after each run. I began to doubt my sanity, but dang it I was going to do this. Stubbornness won over.
The morning of the 5k, I was jittery with anticipation... and caffeine. (When you work for a large coffee store chain, you tend to be well-caffeinated at all times.) I had to work a few hour before heading over to the 5k. This being my first 5k, I watched the more seasoned runners and subtly copied their stretches, so I looked like I knew what I was doing. I slipped into the back of the group so as not to be trampled. My goal wasn't to win, it was simply to finish without dying.
We started off. At first, I was able to keep up and even pass a few people, but my lungs and my legs began to burn, so I slowed to a power walk. As the 5k progressed, I was occasionally joined by other runners, but eventually I was on my own as they passed or fell behind. I focused on alternating short running spurts with power walking. By the second mile, I was beginning to struggle. My body wanted to just sit in the middle of the jogging trail and not get up. Just keep moving, I told myself. Don't stop walking. I was severely out of breath and my legs and feet were burning with pain.
Then I saw it... the finish line. I don't know why, but I started crying. Perhaps out of relief or pain, possibly both. I mustered up every ounce of energy I had left to run across the finish line. To my surprise, I heard cheers. Most of the other runners had finished and were cheering on the girl (who didn't look like she could even run). I felt a strange sense of elation as I pushed myself to finish. Someone slipped a finisher's medal into my hand.
It was an overwhelming sense of accomplishment.
I slipped out of the awards ceremony to my car and made it just in time for my church's women's brunch. I didn't care that I was the only woman there in yoga pants (and smelling of sweat). I did it.
"Woman, you are a BEAST!" one of my friends congratulated. I think that was the best compliment I've ever received.
Despite the fact that I spent the remainder of my day on the couch or limping around the house, I want to do another 5k. Next time, I'm bringing some girl friends with me. Who cares if we don't look like athletic runners? Curvy girls can run too. We may not win, but we can finish.
In the first part of Hebrews 12, that's what Paul was talking about. We have to run through life with "endurance and steadfast patience." Not all of us finish the same way or run as quickly. Some will run together and others will run solo. Sometimes we run together for a little while and go our separate ways. The point is to focus on that finish line and never stop moving, even if it's hard and painful and we'd rather just sit. When we do finish, it will be with tears of sweet relief and to the cheers of the runners who finished before us.
To tell you the truth, I'm looking forward to the day I finish and see my dad cheering me with open arms.
I hate running. Unless I'm being chased by a wild animal, I see no purpose in it. So what did I do this weekend? I ran a 5k.
My friends and family were a bit concerned, considering I don't have an athletic physique. My physique would probably be closer to that of a lumpy pear, but I've worked hard to lose almost 50 pounds in the last year. I'm a work in progress.
This stage of my healing journey is filled with making myself do things that I don't want to do (or that I'm afraid of doing). Since I'd rather be doing anything but running, I decided to make myself do it. I want to be fearless.
Most training programs suggest 8+ weeks to train for a 5k. I had about two. Every other night after the kids were in bed, I'd be out running laps around the neighborhood. I think my mom began to question my sanity as I'd drop to the floor utterly breathless after each run. I began to doubt my sanity, but dang it I was going to do this. Stubbornness won over.
The morning of the 5k, I was jittery with anticipation... and caffeine. (When you work for a large coffee store chain, you tend to be well-caffeinated at all times.) I had to work a few hour before heading over to the 5k. This being my first 5k, I watched the more seasoned runners and subtly copied their stretches, so I looked like I knew what I was doing. I slipped into the back of the group so as not to be trampled. My goal wasn't to win, it was simply to finish without dying.
We started off. At first, I was able to keep up and even pass a few people, but my lungs and my legs began to burn, so I slowed to a power walk. As the 5k progressed, I was occasionally joined by other runners, but eventually I was on my own as they passed or fell behind. I focused on alternating short running spurts with power walking. By the second mile, I was beginning to struggle. My body wanted to just sit in the middle of the jogging trail and not get up. Just keep moving, I told myself. Don't stop walking. I was severely out of breath and my legs and feet were burning with pain.
Then I saw it... the finish line. I don't know why, but I started crying. Perhaps out of relief or pain, possibly both. I mustered up every ounce of energy I had left to run across the finish line. To my surprise, I heard cheers. Most of the other runners had finished and were cheering on the girl (who didn't look like she could even run). I felt a strange sense of elation as I pushed myself to finish. Someone slipped a finisher's medal into my hand.
It was an overwhelming sense of accomplishment.
I slipped out of the awards ceremony to my car and made it just in time for my church's women's brunch. I didn't care that I was the only woman there in yoga pants (and smelling of sweat). I did it.
"Woman, you are a BEAST!" one of my friends congratulated. I think that was the best compliment I've ever received.
Despite the fact that I spent the remainder of my day on the couch or limping around the house, I want to do another 5k. Next time, I'm bringing some girl friends with me. Who cares if we don't look like athletic runners? Curvy girls can run too. We may not win, but we can finish.
In the first part of Hebrews 12, that's what Paul was talking about. We have to run through life with "endurance and steadfast patience." Not all of us finish the same way or run as quickly. Some will run together and others will run solo. Sometimes we run together for a little while and go our separate ways. The point is to focus on that finish line and never stop moving, even if it's hard and painful and we'd rather just sit. When we do finish, it will be with tears of sweet relief and to the cheers of the runners who finished before us.
To tell you the truth, I'm looking forward to the day I finish and see my dad cheering me with open arms.
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