Finish Strong

Finish Strong

Every runner knows the feeling of seeing the finish line. Whether the run was five miles through the neighborhood, a 10K, or a marathon, the sight of the finish motivates us to push, to “sprint,” to finish strong. And that’s true regardless of how we are feeling. Runners tell how they were spent physically and emotionally and ready to quit, and others describe the terrible pain in lungs and legs, but they persevered and felt buoyed by the sight of the finish. Some push so hard at the end that they are wrapped in foil and taken directly to the medical tents. Most cross the line with hands raised in triumph!

The real finish is when life ends. As we have noted several times, for most people life is like a marathon, not a sprint—a long-distance run with several stages. Yet unlike a marathon, which ends after 26.2 miles, we don’t know the exact location of life’s finish line. We do know, however, that our life race is actually pretty short, no matter how long we live; we’ll get to that line sooner than many of us expect.

Paul knew his race was nearly over; his finish line was in sight. So he wrote:

As for me, my life has already been poured out as an offering to God. The time of my death is near. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, and I have remained faithful. And now the prize awaits me—the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me on the day of his return. And the prize is not just for me but for all who eagerly look forward to his appearing. (2 Timothy 4:6-8)

Paul was sprinting to the end.

The Runner

Born in the small East African country of Eritrea, Meb Keflezighi (one of ten children in his family) began life as a survivor, not a runner. Fleeing the brutal war that was tearing apart their country, Meb and his family eventually emigrated to America. Meb explains:

We came to the United States with virtually nothing but the clothes on our backs and the faith that we were in the Land of Opportunity, where education could be pursued and hard work would be rewarded. I had no idea that running was even a sport when we arrived in the States. My running journey began with a timed mile in my seventh grade phys ed class. I got all my competitive experience in the United States through middle school, high school, and college meets.^a

Eventually Meb became a world-class long-distance runner, winning the silver medal in the marathon at the 2004 Athens Olympics. But a series of injuries followed that triumph. So when Meb entered the New York City Marathon in 2009, he was determined to win. He recalls:

Victory . . . would be sweet for a number of reasons. To begin with, the race hadn’t had an American winner since Alberto Salazar won . . . in 1982. Second, I had never had a victory in my previous 11 marathon starts. . . . Furthermore, many “experts” thought my career was over, and even I considered retirement in 2008 because of injury. I also wanted to do something special in honor of my friend and former training partner, Ryan Shay, who died of cardiac arrest in 2007 while we were competing in the Olympic trials marathon in Central Park. Perhaps most important, my parents, wife, and children were at the race. I envisioned accomplishing something special with them in attendance.^b

Meb describes how that marathon ended:

I was expanding the lead running along Central Park South and heading toward Columbus Circle, where the crowds were thick and loud. The noise was deafening and pushed me toward the finish. I heard shouts of “USA! USA!” and “Go Meb!” It was the thrill of a lifetime. Turning right and back into Central Park, I had a 34-second lead with 385 yards left.

I popped my USA singlet a couple of times. I flashed double thumbs-up and waved to the crowd. I was trying to take in the moment. I was also thinking, Rein yourself in. Don’t celebrate too much. Get to the finish. I was about to win my first marathon. I was about to become the first American winner in New York in 27 years. I had believed all along I could do it. But I couldn’t believe it was actually happening. All those close calls. All those unlucky breaks and weird injuries. Food poisoning. Stress fractures. Ruptured quads. All kinds of problems at the wrong times. The countless hours of rehab and cross-training.

Then there were all those people who thought I was over the hill. All those who said I’d never win a major marathon. But this was more than proving them wrong. This was about getting the most out of myself, about seeing my Run to Win philosophy in action. I thanked God for listening to my prayers. . . .

The tears were welling up. I was overwhelmed with emotion. . . . I saw [my wife], seven months pregnant, holding Sara and Fiyori. I saw my mother. We all were crying. My father was there, the guy who told me I could beat the world at the 2000 Olympics. I had told him it would take time to do that. It had taken nine years, but I had finally beaten the world in New York.^c

The Race

Meb remembered his goal, heard the cheers, and saw the finish with his family waiting for him there. So he gave everything he had and raced to victory.

Sitting alone and chained in the dark and damp Roman prison, Paul saw his finish line, and he, too, was determined to finish well. He also knew that he would not be the only victor but would join all those who trust in Christ as their Savior. Paul had given his all; he had run well; he would wear the victor’s crown!

What a marvelous promise! What a courageous race! What an amazing life of faithful service to the Lord! May the same be said for us.

The Result

You know the finish line is there, whether or not you can see it. No one drops out of this race; eventually, one way or another, life ends for everyone. But the meaning of the finish is profoundly different for those who run for Christ and his Kingdom. Let the knowledge of who and what awaits you motivate you to run strong and hard and finish well.

My Story

I don’t know if it’s just my partial Scottish heritage, but something in me responded the first time I heard the quote from Eric Liddell: “When I run, I feel his pleasure.” Those words make running about a lot more than healthy exercise.

I’ve been running all my life, though I admit most of it has involved chasing a soccer ball. I grew up in South America, and much of my childhood was filled with the kind of daily, energetic activities that make you wonder as an adult, How did I do all that stuff?

I didn’t try formal running until we returned to the U.S. when I was in seventh grade. The track team in my junior high school was a no-cut team, so the coach had to find an event for everybody who showed up. For him, the 440 was a good way to separate the runners from the boys. Those who didn’t show specific promise in some other event found themselves assigned to run the 440. One time around the track . . . too far to sprint all the way, not nearly far enough to expect a water stop on the back straightaway. What I remember are 440 races that looked to me like the start of the Boston Marathon. Four or five serious runners on the starting line with a multitude of wannabes bunched close behind. Two moments in each of those races are indelibly recorded for me.

The first mental picture comes as I lean into the first turn and look ahead at an unbroken single-file wall of runners hugging the inside line around the entire turn. Something was beautiful about all those bodies daring gravity together to cut the corner as close as possible. Sometimes I laughed in the sheer joy of the moment. This perspective, of course, reminds me that I was among the last runners.

Somewhere during the back straight section, a predictable separation would take place. The pack became two packs. By the time my group was starting into the second curve, the lead runners were sprinting for the finish line. By then a gap of forty or fifty yards would have opened between the contenders and the rest of us. When we came out of the turn, it was a whole new race. No one was in front of us.

We in the back were as serious about finishing as any of the others who were already in the showers. And this is when the second indelible image flashes on my mental screen, this one with sound. The crowd often responded to our efforts by cheering us in. And we responded to their encouragement by battling it out across the finish line, stepping on the tape that was already growing a little mold. Those moments have always caused me to marvel over the joy of finishing. Of course winning is fun, but winning is the refined form of finishing. Unless you finish, you can’t win.

As my life has reached that phase where physical output has more to do with good memories than present exploits, I find it comforting to know that the writer in the Bible who gave us such great word pictures of exertion in describing the Christian life saved a special one when he saw the tape approaching: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, and I have remained faithful” (2 Timothy 4:7). I, too, have had my share of wins along the way, but in the end what I want to do is finish, and finish well. The longer I live, the more I understand that when I run, I feel his pleasure.

Neil

Think It Through

1. In what ways has the sight of the finish to a long run or race affected how you ran? What award awaited you when you finished?

2. Although most people have no idea how long they will live, where do you think you are in life’s race—at what stage of the marathon?

3. Paul said he had “fought the good fight”—what did that mean for him? What does the “good fight” look like for you?

4. What did Paul’s statement that he had “remained faithful” say about him? What does “remaining faithful” mean for you? In what ways does the finish line and what awaits you affect how you live?

On Running

Tapering

Just before a very important race you should back off a little from your training—“taper.” This will allow time for all the damaged micro-constructions of muscle to reach full repair. It also will allow for carbohydrate replenishing and to increase and prepare your mental and psychological state. You shouldn’t back off on intensity, just on distance. Long-distance runners shouldn’t taper more than a week. You face the risk of detraining (getting out of shape) if you taper for too long.

^a Meb Keflezighi with Dick Patrick, Run to Overcome (Carol Stream, Illinois: Tyndale House Publishers, 2010), 3.

^b Ibid., 3–4.

^c Ibid., 209–210.