Running the Big Race

After Lent was over I found myself relaxed but (overly) confident in my abilities.  Saturday was a 5K race that was for Relay for Life as a cancer fundraiser.  Sure, why not?  I have been training, and I can do better every time.  At this point, these are fun and common place . . . even though I have not ran but one time all week.

Before the 5K race there was a kid’s 1 mile race.  Since we didn’t have a babysitter, Christy entered both boys in this race.  I have been taking Tyler with me a few times but not very aggressively and not really training for a big race.  I did teach him one thing; no race is ever won at the starting line.  Every race is won at the finish line.  Most kids will take off full of energy only to realize they can’t finish the race.  It never makes sense to be the one in the lead if you can’t finish.  Tyler was doing great by keeping his pace and staying in third position.  The race ended with a final quarter mile lap around the track.  I noticed Tyler was struggling but remained steady.  I walked the opposite to direction to meet Tyler with half a lap to go.  I ran along beside him coaching him along.  I was able to be there as his Dad giving him the extra motivation to push really hard for that awesome finish.  He gave it everything he had to sprint across the finish line.

I was standing there with all those athletes ready to run the 5K.  Several were stretching out their muscles and some were simply standing there having jovial conversations while flexing their muscles at each other.  In order to make yourself look skinny, surround yourself with fat people.  Wow, I really felt like the fat guy.  In fact, I was the fattest guy in the crowd.  Nervous anxiety started to come over me.  What am I doing out here with these trained athletes?  None of these people know me or care about my story.  At that point, I wondered if I knew my story. 

We started and they all took off; even all of the ladies passed me.  I reminded myself not to let pride take over.  I set my pace where I knew that I could run the entire race without stopping.  Then I started feeling worse.  I had not run on my own like this before.  Always before, I ran with a purpose.  I ran for God.  It was about the first half mile mark and I started praying, “God, please join me in this race.  It is with you that all things are possible.  Please forgive me for thinking this was about my abilities.”  I suddenly felt at ease.  I never waivered again.  One by one I started passing people who were dropping from their overly zealous pace.  I was approaching the end, and I knew I was doing fine.  The Christian music from the Relay was playing and it really inspired me to the point that I got chills up my spine.  I was about to pass two more people and really run that last quarter mile as fast as I can possibly run.  As I turned the corner to get on that tract for that final lap here came Tyler running over to me.  “Daddy” he yelled out.  He ran along with me with the biggest grin on his face.  We both smiled, but I knew what I had to do . . . I am about to sprint the entire lap to show my son what I can do.  I took off and immediately I heard it; my son cried out to me, “Daddy, don’t leave me.  Daddy!”  Oh no, what am I to do?  I slowed down almost jogging in place, grabbed my son’s hand, and we ran the entire lap together.  He pushed as hard as he could.  He didn’t want to disappoint me and I didn’t want to disappoint him.  I helped him run his race and he helped me run mine.  The only time I ran alone was the beginning where I felt intimidated, anxious, and afraid.  I felt at peace as I ran the race with God and became victorious as I finished the race with my son.