My First Marathon

My first marathon was the beginning of pushing my body beyond what I ever thought possible and getting a glimpse of our eternal homecoming. The last few miles were the beginning of the end, when my knees felt like they could no longer carry me, my body had spent all the energy necessary to see me thru and yet deep in my soul I searched and found the reserves to finish. Finished battered, tired, spent, but gloriously uplifted, full of His hope, overflowing with the anticipation of a heavenly reunion.

When my body could not, would not listen to my mind, and slowed down and threaten to stop, I fixed my eyes on the finish line, so near yet so far....the vision came easily, slowly, clearly of my homecoming...my Lord and my Saviour waiting, beckoning with open arms...my child, my Naomi, her voice mixing in with the voice of the saints calling my name, cheering me on, encouraging, loving me thru to the end. My knees painfully gave out all they had and moved me forward. A moment I wished would never end yet couldn't wait for it to be over. In that instant I wasn't running for my body but for my soul.

The moment of crossing the finish line was insignificant to those around me. After all only 18 people were behind me, I was one of the last, yet to me it was of great significance. Time mattered little but in the realm of eternity those hours matted much. A glimpse of light entered my darkness, just a little flickering ray of glorious light, enough to hold on to tightly, enough to leave me wanting more. It was at that moment that I knew I would survive and endure and finish in pain, but with hope, and joy and yes even peace.

True to God's character, His mercies never ceasing, I won third place in my age group. A humorous accomplishment, since I was so slow, but one that lifted me and affirmed to me that from that season on I was a runner.

Now I'm a runner, a marathoner no less. I run not from but to...
to clear my mind;
to tire my body;
to worship Him in the silence of my breathing;
to be lost in the movement of my legs;
to fill my lungs to their full capacity with fresh cool air;
and in doing so be filled with Him.

I feel my life parallels a marathon. The more I run, the less it hurts and I become stronger, able to go the distance. Painfully at times but always completing the distance. Spiritually, the more I surrender my weakness, my cries, my longings, my memories, also painfully at times, the more He strengthens me and glorifies Himself in me and thru my sorrow and sadness. Truly joy can co-exist with pain...it is even more filling, complete, a gift that I'm eternally thankful to receive...and running is just that a wonderful mix of intense joy, peace and oftentimes pain.