Life is a Race

I ran the Salt Lake City Half Marathon yesterday.
I really did.

It was SO hard.
And it was SO good.

I’ve been working towards one for more than a year now, but injuries kept getting in the way. I almost thought I wouldn’t be able to because I had some sharp muscle pain the last two weeks, but it worked out. I was so grateful I could run this after I trained for it. I am so thankful God gave me a body that could do this. I know it was a blessing that I was able to run it, because my previous injury could have ruined it for me.

The first three miles were hard.
I know now that...
I don’t ever want to run again without music.
I shouldn’t eat a full-size serving of Olive Garden’s fettuccine alfredo the night before.
I should definitely use the bathroom before I start the race.

Mile 5 was good.
The rest were just hard.

I just can’t express how hard it was.

I had run up to 12 miles before the race, but I just underestimated how hard it would be.

This is how life is too, though. I feel like I knew that it would be hard before I got here to this earth…but now that I’m here—it just seems I underestimated how hard it would be. Some miles of our lives are hard. In fact, many of them are going to be. The mile 5s in our life are probably few and far between.

Lots of people passed me. I loved how I was okay with that. The race was about me finishing. However, I did run faster than I thought I would. I finished a good 15 minutes less than what I expected. And I ran the second half faster than the first half.

I loved running with so many people. I thought I would hate running in a crowd, but there seems to be an almost tangible feeling of unity in running together.

There were little things on the way that made it just a little easier, or made me a little stronger.
On mile 6, I was surprised to see my mom and brothers on the sideline cheering me on.
On the last mile of the race, there was a man I was running by who said, “Come on you guys; don’t give up.” I wish I could find him and thank him—it was so encouraging.
Then, on the last quarter mile there was the guy behind me who said, “Come on girl!” I have no idea if he was talking to me, but I started booking it.

But the experience I will never forget was the last yards to the finish line—where crowds were cheering on either side and I knew—
I was almost done.

It was so surreal—I would say it felt like heaven, except it was so much pain at the same time.
Perhaps that’s what the last leg of the race of life will feel like.
Because that feeling was the closest I’ve felt to heaven for a long time.

I believe there are people cheering for us on earth—and in heaven. If only we could see them.

When I crossed the finish line, the feeling was just overwhelming. I just felt like crying and sobbing. Because it was so good. And it hurt so bad.

The best part about it was that now that I have run a half marathon, I know I can run the race of life even better than I have been. I can run it with more strength and more determination.

Even though it’s hard.
Because it’s worth it.
SO worth it.