Reaching the Cross Roads

In the past, if you have read my blog, you'll discover that I am training for a half marathon on June 7th. That is in less than three weeks. It's becoming extremely surreal as the days of training are flying by and there comes less and less time between when training is just training, and when training actually is applied. It's pretty scary, I'll admit. That's not the point of my story though. In my life, I am constantly finding that god reminds me of Himself through practical everyday things that I've committed to do. So, I'd like to share a story in which God showed me a thing or two.

On the weekends I do my long runs, and starting from 6 miles have been adding a mile every weekend. I'll stop at 11 miles, which is this upcoming Saturday. Anyway, yesterday (Sunday), I went for my 10 mile. I wasn't too enthusiastic about doing this. I would've done it on Saturday, but I was gone all day registering for classes at Judson. I had been up early that morning to go to worship team practice at church, and frankly was pretty tired. Another thing that factored into it was that the weekend before, when I was supposed to do 9, I ran a 5k and then a few miles after the 5k instead of running just a straight 9 miles. I was a little nervous about jumping from 8 miles to 10 miles, since 10 is a pretty crucial run. All morning I had been weighing my options. Should I just run maybe a 5 miler and then run a short run tomorrow? Exactly how hard would it be to just jump to 11 miles next weekend. I could do it. It would be hard, but I really don't want to run today. Maybe I won't run 11 miles, maybe I'll save the 10 miler for next weekend and then just have my next long run be the half marathon and jump right up to 13. I could do that. It wouldn't be a big deal, right? I guess I knew though that I needed to do it, so when I got home, I put my running clothes on (for motivation...haha) and ate a little lunch then let my lunch settle a little and then I left. Immediately after setting foot outside my door and beginning my run, I knew it wasn't going to be an easy one. My legs were kind of stiff from not running for a couple of days. I did some stretching, but probably not as much as I could've. I quickly became short on breath, for no real reason at all. And inside my head, all I could think was "I can't do this". I started thinking about the half and how much harder it was going to be. I was barely at mile 1, and all I wanted to do was turn around and go back home. I got up to about 1 3/4 miles when I got to a point in my run where if I turned right down one street, and started heading that way, it would take me straight back to my house and my run would end up equaling about 3 miles...maybe a little bit over that. If I kept running straight, I would have to keep pushing for the 10 miles I had originally set out to do. It became very clear as I was approaching this point that I had a decision to make. I could quit, and make the right and run home, or I could refuse to give into what my body so wanted to do (which was pretty much lay on the couch for the rest of the day...) and keep going.
I chose to keep going.
As I kept running, I realized a few things. One was that if I had turned, and gone home, I probably would've been happy temporarily, and satisfied with being able to flop on the sofa, but it wouldn't be long before I would start feeling like a quitter, a loser. It also dawned on me that if I had turned and went home, it would only be a week later that I would have to go from running 8 miles to 11 miles. 8 to 10 is bad enough, 8 to 11 would be hard. Another is that the entire time I was running, I kept thinking about how awesome it was going to be to be able to say confidently that I ran the 10 miles, even though it was hard, and that I wanted to quit. Then I thought about my faith. I thought about how there was a point in my life where I had found myself coming to a cross roads. Much like the one I came to in my run. I found that I had a choice to make. I could turn around and quit, give into the things that my body, my sinfulness was urging me to give into. Or, I could bite my lip, take a big breath and keep moving forward, towards the goal. I chose the latter. And it has been hard, seriously. There were a lot of times when I wanted to quit and turn around. I've come to a lot of mini cross roads since then, but it was choosing to keep going past that specific cross roads that has kept me running toward the goal, toward my Savior's arms.

I am proud to say that yesterday, I ran a total of 10.06 miles. It was hard, and there were a lot of times when I wanted to stop and turn back, but I didn't, I kept going. Today, I'm super super soar, my joints feel about 50 years older than they actually are, but I did it, I finished.
In my faith, I know that the race will be hard. Very hard, probably harder than running a half marathon at times, but I'm going to keep choosing to go forward, and not turn back. Because in the end, I know that the ultimate reward, the greatest finish line is waiting for me, I know that my savior, my Jesus will be there when I cross the finish. There, I know that I'll fall before His feet, and lay my crown of jewels there. I'm running, so that in the end, I'll get to hear Him say to me "Well done, my good and faithful servant". And yeah, I'll be tired, and sure, I might be a little sore when I'm done (although I'm not sure if you can be sore in heaven...), but in the end, it'll be worth it...much more worth it than running the 10 miles was.