Running has become my thing.
I guess it could go back to ninth grade. Oh ninth grade. Braces, glasses and a whole lot of awkward. But that’s another story. I knew my athletic career was at a halt (ok, so I probably knew this the first time dad and I played catch, and I dodged the ball…) when my volleyball coach sat me down and very matter-of-factly said, “Jamie, I don’t think volleyball is your cup of tea. How would you like to try cross-country?” Alright Coach Taylor. I could certainly take a hint.
Fast forward a decade or so. I love to run. Somehow I got past the burning lungs, aching knees and just plain old boredom of putting one foot in front of the other. It clears my head. It burns the carbs. And the endorphins aren’t a bad deal either. I’ll try to remember that when I am dying on Feb. 20.
Feb. 20, you ask? On Feb. 20, I will be running (at least that’s the plan) my first marathon. That’s right, 26.2 miles.
So the training plan is in motion, and the countdown has begun. Completed a 12 mile run this weekend with 12 weeks to go. Twelve weeks. Yikes.
As I’m training, I’m often reminded of Hebrews 12.
Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has set down at the right hand of the throne of God.
Perseverance. Run the race. Endurance. Fix my eyes on Jesus. What a perfect picture running is of life and my relationship with God. I’m thankful that each time I click off the miles I am reminded of Christ’s perseverance, His endurance and His sweet grace – the very grace that gets me going each morning and gets me through each day.
I am thankful that running is my thing.