The Back End of the Race

Ecclesiastes 7:20 For there is not a just man upon the earth, that doeth good and sinneth not.
 

Last October, I did something that has been a dream in my heart for some time. 

My first full marathon was in full force, a steady run so far, no injuries, and I was feeling good, making good time and pacing where I wanted to. My knee started bothering me so I slowed down, and was getting separated from the girl I was running with. She had kept me going for miles and had suffered an injury previously, and I wanted her to conquer her goal that day. No worries, I told her to go on ahead. I was comfortable and kept running, confident in my progress thanks to her pushing me through the first few hours of the day and helping me learn to pace. 

I found myself alone about 14 miles in, down a pretty cobblestone street in Victorian village, but I couldn’t see any other runners. 

Your thoughts go dark as you imagine that every single person, all 15,000 racers, have finished and are already stuffing their faces with victory pizza and Gatorade. I pictured the finish line being torn down and crickets chirping by the time I got to the end. My day had started before 5am and it’s now about 11 and I’ve been running for hours. I’m tired, and crabby and hot and I start to doubt myself. All the hours and months I spent training my body to take the pain, learning to find the energy I needed inside, pushing for another mile, to trust the process and mentally run through the doubt, one foot in front of the other, I’m starting to forget ALL of that. 

Feeling defeat looming in the background, I suddenly hear the shrieking of my name behind me and turn to see two of my crazy runner girls coming up from behind. I had lost them miles ago and was convinced they were already celebrating at the finish line. I was SO happy to see them. We stuck together for several miles and they helped me get through my wall. They went ahead when I slowed down to nurse my knee and help another runner with an injury to an aid station, and I happily finished my race confident in my own time and my own pace. All 26.2 miles pounded out with determination and a few good pushes.

 What got me through, I realized, wasn’t the elites, the runners who were perfect, at the front of the pack, with expensive shoes and personal trainers, and zero body fat who finished hours before I did, those few who make careers out of this sport, whom I can never compete with. What pushed me was to see the back end of the race, women and men past their prime, with scars and mistakes and worn out shoes and no experience. The first timers, who like me, had a heartbeat and a goal and zero clue what we were doing, but doing it anyway, one step at a time. 

THAT, ladies, is your witness. Your wounds, your mistakes, your smelly shoes and your doubt. THAT is what speaks to people about where God can take them. Your perfection in Christ is not what it’s about. It’s not a testimony to hide your injuries and fears and only advertise your victories. Your scars and fear and coming in DEAD LAST are your testimonies. 

Don’t think for one second that because you are behind someone else that you can’t be what gets them through. Those beautiful, crazy, messy women with scars and pain and stink are what pushed me when I needed it. They were scared and crabby and tired and hungry, too, and they made sure we were all in it together.

When you choose to encourage someone through your pain, and fear, and doubt, and sin and mistakes, THAT my friends, is where your light shines on the path. 

So be the back end of the race, be the slow one, be the inexperienced one, be the one with not a clue what you are doing. Take someone’s hand and pull them along kicking and screaming and clueless like you and be proud of it. HE will get you to the finish line, no matter your experience or lack of. All that matters is your heart’s desire. And that the path, the road, the race, leads you, and the hand you are holding, to HIM.

 

-Written By: Robin Nash