When the finish line becomes the starting line

I can't remember where, but recently I was reading something written by Brian McLaren on living the Christian life. He was comparing it to running a race. Recently, thanks to my "I'm Not 40 yet" workout plan, I've been spending a bit more time running on my own as well. So some of these next thoughts come from a recent run I took and a book a read.

Recently, I went out to run on the greenbelt next to my house. It was dark, cold, and had started to snow. The clouds were reflecting the glow of the city. I think this is a perfect time for running. For some reason I seem to like running more when it's the weather is doing something. Anyways, I started my run with the goal of running six miles. That is the farthest distance I have run since I destroyed my self and pride in a half-marathon about 4 years ago. So with my iPod blaring I started off running. In the beginning I was excited to get going, inspired to run farther, all pumped up because I was going to accomplish something. Miles 1-3 went by fairly smoothly. I was running because of the potential and because I was inspired.

After that, things started to get a bit harder. My legs started to get tired and my body/mind was starting to manipulate my will. "What are you doing?" it said, "You're fine. You've already run farther than you need to at this point, is six miles really that important to you? Just turn around now and you can enjoy your success. There's not point to continuing to push yourself. Don't you think six miles was a bit excessive? I mean come on, it'll be fine if you just stop here. It's not like anybody but you cares about this goal you've set for yourself."

But somehow, I just kept things going. I think music helps to drown out those voices in my head when I'm running. So miles 4 and 5 were more of a slogfest. I wasn't going very fast. And I really just wanted to turn around. At this point I just started thinking about the end. I was fixated on finding relief from the pain in my legs and relief from the endless mental assault going on in my head. All I could think about with each and every step was stopping. I was running just to get to the end.

Around the end of mile 5 though, I began to run for a different reason. My mind wasn't trying to defeat my will anymore. My body experienced a renewal of energy. The distance I had already come was so much greater than the distance I had left to go. Once I realized I was going to finish, I began to enjoy running. I could move past the pain in my legs much easier. I ran because I knew the hard part was over.

At the end of mile 6 a funny thing happened. I was enjoying running so much that I just ran straight past the finish line. I didn't even slow down. "What the heck do you think you're doing?!" screamed my head. "Running," I said "Isn't that the point?" I was now running because I could.

I ended up running 8 miles that night and afterwards I was left thinking about some pretty strong parallels between the way I ran that night, and the way I pursue my faith. You see many times I feel like I am living just to get to the end. Just to get to heaven some might say or in reality just to get to some different place in my life where things aren't quite as hard and life is fun again(or just plain easier). When I'm running this way, the joy in my life quickly disappears. Living for anything but relief becomes drudgery because I'm fixated on how hard things are and keep entertaining the temptations that keep boiling up in my head to just give up on whatever it is I'm struggling to pursue. I begin to think that the point of life or a specific hardship is to just get to the end. I can no longer enjoy the race. I can no longer love life or anyone in my life.

Just as running guarantees pain, love guarantees sacrifice. Many, many times I begin to wish that I could run without feeling the pain. I also begin to wish I could love God and others without making any sacrifices.

What if I began to see my life not as an opportunity to just get to the finish line. Because in that mindset I try to love as few people as possible without totally giving up on the race I'm running. What if I began to see my life as an opportunity to love as many people as possible. To run as hard as I could. Because the point was to run, to run for the joy of it, not because I had to, or because anyone else thought I should, but because I could. Because the point of life was to run the race; not just get to the end.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. 2Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 3Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."

If I get to the end someday, I have a sneaking suspicion that I will have only crossed the starting line.