Keep Pressing Forward

Keep Pressing Forward

Almost by definition, a race involves runners pushing their limits, straining to win. So in virtually every race, competitors come to a moment of truth when they must endure and run through their pain, exhaustion, and mental fatigue toward the finish line. Except, perhaps, for world-class and other uniquely gifted runners, just about all who run a marathon experience “hitting the wall,” the point where all physical, mental, and emotional resources seem to have been spent and they are running on empty. This occurs at the end of the “serious stage” or in the “encouragement stage” of the race. Runners don’t think they can take another step, yet they do . . . and another . . . and another.

A person doesn’t have to be a runner to hit the wall. A combination of physical, relational, financial, and emotional setbacks can stop us and make us think we can’t go on. Paul and other first-century Christians certainly knew that feeling, and Paul wrote about it. As you read this passage, picture the great apostle as a “coach” urging his runners on:

We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.

We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed. Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies. (2 Corinthians 4:7-10)

We are like “fragile clay jars”—we know this for sure at the “wall.” But because we have God’s power, we don’t depend on our own strength to run and finish. We won’t be “crushed,” “driven to despair,” or “destroyed.”

The Runner

He first felt the pain at fifteen miles. It wasn’t much then, just a slight stitch in the side. But now it was almost unbearable—under the rib cage, pushing up into the right lung. He had altered his breathing and slowed his pace, but nothing seemed to help. The only thing good about it, he thought, was that he had almost forgotten about his other pains and issues: the constant sting of sweat in his eyes as it ran down across the dried, salty residue on his forehead; the skin rubbed raw even through generous applications of Vaseline; the blisters, formed, broken, and now bleeding.

After the first hour, his muscles ached, throbbing with each step. Now they were numb. Twenty-two miles. This must be the wall, he thought. I’ll never make it. I should quit like those others. More than four miles to go. But he remembered his three months of preparation, his family and friends who had encouraged him, and his goal. And he kept moving.

Suddenly a gust of crosswind threw him off stride. He stumbled a bit but regained form and ran around a corner, to the last water station. Reaching down to the table, he took a cup and, walking slowly, swirled the contents in his mouth and swallowed. He grabbed another cup and poured it over his head, letting the water soak his hair and run down his chest and back. He took another and added its contents to the refreshing rivulets down his neck.

Then joining the other runners, he plunged on. Crunching discarded cups with each painful step, he continued, now almost hobbling toward his goal. Crowds lined the streets and cheered as he passed:

“You can do it!”

“You’re almost there!”

“Looking good!”

Their faces blurred, and their voices faded.

Just a mile to go . . . one agonizing step after another, gasping for breath with a mouth of cotton, running on legs of lead with pain in every muscle and joint.

Then he saw it. Penned in large letters, hanging above the street, the word he had longed to see: FINISH. Mustering every ounce of strength, he moved steadily through the last strides of the torturous journey, determined to sprint to the end. Finally, with arms raised in triumph, he crossed the finish line.

The Race

You’ve been there, struggling through a long run in foul weather (cold rain, humidity, heat) or fighting to finish that 10K, half marathon, or marathon. You know the feelings and the mental games where quitting seems like a good option. So what keeps you going? Probably the knowledge that you trained well, the expectations of family and friends, the sight of the finish line, and most of all, your commitment to your goal.

We’ve discussed this during other devotional weeks—the early believers in Corinth and the rest of the Roman Empire were facing a tough point in their “marathon.” Tired of being persecuted and struggling to stay strong in an increasingly hostile environment, some were weakening, perhaps to the point of giving up and turning away from their faith.

So Paul acknowledged their suffering, reminded them of their goal (to display Christ to their world, even through their suffering) and their power (from God who was with them), and challenged them to keep running this great race of faith.

The Result

In your personal marathon, you may have hit the wall. The ache may seem more than you can bear, the hurt more than you can handle. Why keep going? Every step is painful.

Look up—see your heavenly Father urging you on and strengthening your steps.

Look around—see the friends and family who are there for you (much like the “crowd of witnesses” in Hebrews 12:1), who love you, who care for you, and who pray for you. They’re cheering right now, knowing you can make it. Remember all the training that has brought you this far—the times of answered prayer, the faith and God’s strength through the power of the Holy Spirit that has carried you through the tough times before.

And look ahead. The finish line is there, and Jesus is waiting. He is your goal. Keep your eyes on him . . . and keep running.

My Story

In the early-morning hours of September 6, 2009, somewhere on the streets of Batavia, Illinois, I decided I would not run another marathon. On that damp September day, I ran the Foot Mechanics Half Madness half marathon to help decide if I would attempt another fall marathon--this one with an aggressive time goal. I’d trained well and prepared carefully for race day. I was delighted to run alongside my most loved and trusted running girlfriend. I was prepared and relaxed. The day held great promise.

But the farther I ran, the more awful I felt.

The damp asphalt roads stretched out endlessly in front of me. I struggled up even the smallest inclines. A large middle section of the race was a “false flat,” which became a curse that nearly broke me. Even though I’d completed two marathons, six half marathons, numerous ten-mile races, and countless training miles, I had to fight just to keep going. I kept thinking that more than twenty-five years of running, good nutrition, and constant dedication to fitness should have bought me more comfort and ease in my running by that point. It just wasn’t what I thought it should be. I’d done all the right things . . . why wasn’t it easier?

Later reflection revealed just how many races I’d endured with that mind-set. Somehow I expected that because of all the “right things” I’d done to prepare, my race effort would be more, well, effortless. And it wasn’t until training for my fifth marathon that it occurred to me I’d had the wrong expectation all along. Races are hard. They’re supposed to be hard. And marathons are uniquely grueling. Where did I ever get the idea that race day was an easy, breezy show of athletic prowess and pride?

Then I thought how I also carry this same idea about God’s blessings. I expect his blessings to be largely about my personal comfort--an easy life marked by material and relational success. This expectation is particularly prevalent when I put in all the “training” of spiritual disciplines and outward obedience. But such mistaken expectations blind me to God’s true blessings--especially those found amidst the pain and struggle, not only on the racecourse but along life’s course. I’ve discovered that God has a way of planting his goodness and glory right in the middle of the struggle. And when I trust his plan despite the uphill course, I am more apt to see the treasures he’s hidden for me inside the challenges.

And so Marathon Day #5 fast approaches. On that day, I pray that, somewhere along those 26.2 miles--as my head swears, Never again! and my body aches to quit--the Holy Spirit will nudge through the discomfort of the moment to whisper the truth again that God is no less present or powerful despite the challenge, and that his reward sits gleaming at the finish line.

Nancy

Think It Through

1. How did you know you had hit the wall in a long run or race? What carried you to the end?

2. When have you been painfully discouraged, perhaps even tempted to quit, to give up on life or at least on the Christian life? What kept you going?

3. Who are your biggest fans on earth, encouraging you to run well?

4. What can you do to rely on God’s strength and not your own? What can help you keep focused on Christ?

On Running

Dietary Goals for Performance

NUTRITIONAL GUIDELINES FOR ATHLETES

55–60 percent of calories from carbohydrates

25–30 percent of calories from fats—one-third from saturated fats

RDA of vitamins and minerals

Sufficient calories dependent on training

Forced fluids

DO NOT SKIP MEALS. Performance drops in as little as six hours without eating.

Avoid the coffee-and-donut breakfast. Over time it can be hypoglycemic.

Endurance athletes should graze.

Avoid eating 3–4 hours before a run.

Drink plenty of water and avoid alcohol.