Ready, Set . . . !

When I was a kid I used to love to race – anybody, anytime. “Race ya to the car!” “Race ya to the slide!” “Last one to the tree is a rotten egg!” Of course, I come from a long line of slow, un-athletic ancestors so I was a rotten egg a lot. (My brother’s nickname on his football team was Blaze – and not because he was fast.)

What is it about running and competition that is so fascinating and fun for kids? I was not unique in my love of the contest. My friends were equal in their “Race ya!” challenges. “Race ya to the deep end!” “Bet I can eat my lunch faster than you.” “Last one to the library is a loser!”

It seems as if I spent the better part of my childhood running or competing. And the races were always spontaneous. My brother and I decide to go get a snack; he turns to me all of a sudden and says “Race you to the kitchen! Ready, set, go!” And we are off and running at top speed. There is no time to think. No time to decide if I want to participate. Participation is a given. The only variable is who will be the rotten egg.

Then one day out of nowhere the racing stopped. I don’t know what my last childhood race was. It probably was nothing special or eventful. Maybe it was a race around the circle driveway or to see who could hold their breath the longest. But there was a last childhood race, there had to have been because I’m no longer racing people to the car.

I’ve grown up. I’m too mature for that sort of thing. Adults do not race.

Well, I did race once as an adult, about 10 years ago. I was skiing with friends and a friend and I had just come off the lift on our last run of the day. We looked at each other, and both being Leos, we 2 very adult women decided to race to the bottom of the hill. I passed her like she was standing still and beat her like a drum, HA!, but only because I was in a deep tuck and I had a tail wind. I think my leg is still in a cramp. As a perpetual rotten egg, I like to tell this story, usually when my friend is around and we are in a large conversation circle at parties. (Perhaps this is why no one wants to race me any more, hmmm.)

Anyway, the point is for the most part somewhere along the way we grow up. We stop running, chasing, jumping and skipping. We think these things are best left to the kids. But the point that it happens is very subtle. We don’t really know the shift is on. It’s not like getting our drivers license; one day we can’t drive, the next day we can.

One reason I know I stopped racing is because I’m too tired. Racing is hard work. It wears a girl out. Kids can do it because they seem to have this boundless energy. Me? Not so much. Stress, multi-tasking, jobs, mortgages, bills, you name it – who has the strength to race?

But I think I’m supposed to be racing. I don’t mean racing co-workers to the coffee-pot – although that would be hilarious. No, I think I am supposed to still be actively engaged in the contest.

Isaiah 41:31 says “But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles, They shall run and not be weary, They shall walk and not faint.” (I love the part about the eagles’ wings – eagles are fast and fly high.)

Life’s trials and problems slow me down, trip me up, wear me out, and kick me out of the race. It’s during these trials and tribulations that my endurance is challenged and pushed to its limits. Who feels like racing when all I want to do is sit and nurse my bruises?

But as every marathon runner will attest there is a “wall,” a part of the race close to the finish when they feel like they will not make it, which must be scaled and overcome in order to finish the race. A choice must be made when the runner hits the wall – quit or call on all that you have and push through.

I’ll admit during my trials I have been tempted to quit. My wall has been high and thick but I have God running with me and I am waiting on Him so I am choosing to stay in the race. I will no longer be weary or faint, He won't let me.

In fact, I’m feeling pretty good and re-energized . . .“Race ya?”

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