It's Not How You Start

My husband and I like to run.  Not crazy marathon running.  More like simple, leisurely runs.  A couple times a year we might run a six-miler together.  Other than that, we stick to the less strenuous, three-mile outings.  

For a very worthy cause, we chose to participate in another 5K this past Saturday.  This 5K was not in our hometown, nor was it a familiar race to us.  As a matter of fact, this supposedly simple 5K turned out to be the hardest course we've encountered to date. 

In the midst of all my huffing and puffing while running, a few epiphanies struck my mind and heart.  After sorting through them, I thought I'd share five lessons I learned during that brief, but tough, thirty minutes:

1.  Details are important.
As in all the other 5K's we've run, we assumed we would be running on pavement.  But just minutes from arriving at the race, I checked the website and was surprised to find that the race terrain was listed as "dirt, rocks, and wood chips."  

Fact #1: We do not own trail running shoes.  
Fact #2: We wore our newest, cleanest Asics to the race. 
Fact #3: We were less than thrilled about tramping through muddy trails, especially after three days of consecutive rain.
Fact #4: We ran it anyway. 

Mark my word, though.  Next time we'll pay more attention to the details.

2. I can do hard.
From the moment the race began, and I started sloshing through the muck and mire, I had a feeling this was going to be a hard run.  Headed into the second mile of the race, I started up the first of four very large hills.  You know, the kind Jack and Jill probably tumbled down? 

At first glance I thought, "No big deal.  I got this."  But halfway up the hill, I had to stop running and walk.  And I never stop in a race.  I may slow down, but I certainly never stop.  Slowly, but steadily, I made my way to the top and continued my run, despite how hard it was. 

The good news is that I didn't have to stop at the second mountain, er, hill.  Or the third.  On the fourth.  Nope.  I'd convinced myself that I could do it--no matter how hard it was. 

Yes, my heart was beating hard.  Yes, I was breathing hard.  But I did not quit. 

Maybe, just maybe,  I can do hard.

3. It's okay not to know the whole route before you run it.
The planner in both my husband and me wished we knew where we headed when the race began.  The most frustrating part was running up a hill and having no idea what awaited us at the top.  Or around the corner. 

It certainly would have been easier to have had a bird's eye view of the course. 

We could have anticipated the intimidating hills, prepared ourselves for them and conquered them.  We could have avoided the huge mud puddles before we were right upon them. 
We could have side-stepped the large rocks and tree roots protruding from the ground, all silently waiting to trip up an ill-prepared or less vigilant runner, causing him/her to stumble and fall.

Unfortunately, we didn't know the route beforehand.  Nope.  Instead, we had to run by faith. 

4. Don't worry.  Just follow the narrow path marked out for you.
This lesson follows on the heels of #3.  Just into the heavily wooded course, I looked down and noticed bright green, florescent arrows spray-painted on the ground. 

Someone had gone before us.  Someone who knew the way marked out the path for us.  We didn't need to worry about getting lost.  We didn't need to concern ourselves with not knowing where to go.

No worry.  No fear.  All we had to do was trust and follow the path marked out for us, straight to the finish line.

5. It's not how you start.  It's how you finish.
As soon as the announcer said, "Go!", I knew I was going to struggle with this race.  The terrain was unfamiliar, the ground was soggy, and my legs were already sore from a fierce leg workout just days earlier.  My thoughts ranged from "Do the best you can" to "I just don't want to get hurt" to "I am not going to have a good finishing time" to a host of others.  I didn't feel I started well.  I felt nervous, uncertain, and slow. 

Cautious?  Yep.  That's me. 
Calculated?  Guilty. 
Analytical?  Me again.

But typically, it's only in the beginning phase of any given event in my life.  After a slow start, my boldness increases.  Trust takes over.  Faith claims the victory.

Same thing is true in this 5K.  After a hesitant first mile, I got my second wind.  Instead of only looking down, I started to look up and around at my surroundings.  I passed a serene lake and gorgeous foliage.  I felt the warm sunshine and breathed in the cool winter air.  I started to rest, even while I was running.  I began to enjoy the adventure along the way.

As the final leg of the race came into view, I took off.  Faster and faster.  Eager to finish well.  Motivated to come close to the goal I'd set for myself.

I knew my start was less than desirable.  I knew it wasn't picture-perfect.  But I had hope my finish could be better. 

And ultimately in the end, that's the most important lesson for us all.

It's not how you start.  It's how you finish that counts. 

So, here's to life lessons.  Here's to perseverance.  Here's to strong finishes. 

‎"Go with God as He goes after your circumstances. Pursue what you know to be true of God. Continue in worship and trusting. The outcome is God's part; the process is ours."

Graham Cooke