Four years ago, during the 2012 Summer Olympics, I went for an evening run and had one of those epiphany moments. I realized I would never be an Olympian. Now if you have ever met me, or seen me navigate my way through the world, who are thinking, “no $#*!” There is nothing naturally athletic about me. Having an aunt live in the same town as Mary Lou Retton is the closest I’ll come to touching Olympic gold.
But here’s the reason that particular revelation was important. I also understood that while I will never be an Olympic athlete, that’s OK. It’s not my race to run. I run not to be the best in the world, but to put my anger, anxiety and irritability somewhere besides my family’s plate. I run to figure out how I feel, or what needs to happen next. I run when in overwhelmed or undermotivated.
Now to be clear, I don’t run very often, not as often as I could or should. I confess, I just got back out there last night, the first time since moving. Add that to the list of reasons I’m not in Rio. But, I’m training for another race. Motherhood, marriage, discipleship, leading the church. ..that’s the race in running.
Sunday we’ll read together more from the letter to the Hebrews and ask what race are we running. How do we need to train so that we might run faster, further, faithfully?
I’ll see you on Sunday.