I imagined what it would be like to cross the finish line
all during my training. On long runs, any longer than seven miles, I would
picture the finish line. My friends standing there. The sigh of it being over.
The excitement after the race. The imagery was vivid and real, so close I could
feel it. Race day came and I prayed that I would have the ability to completely
inhale all of the sense of the race. The sights, the sounds, the smells, the
feel of it all. I wanted to be able to experience every moment. I didn’t picture the finish
line much during the race, because I was too involved in the present. What a
gift, to be able to experience the divinity of the present. As the race got
harder, the matter of my body loosened and the matter of my mind and heart
loosened as well. I began to experience God’s grace in a way I had not before.
I could not believe that I was about to check off such a huge accomplishment,
something there was no way I could do on my own. After about mile 10, I could
picture the finish line. Every time I would think about it, I would start to
cry. Crying and running, they don’t mix- especially after 10 miles. But it was
happening, and I was feeling undeniably blessed and privileged to get to cross
that finish line. My body was in a state that it hadn’t been in and my soul was
right there with it; vulnerable and worn. The first time I saw the finish line,
the tears came again. I couldn’t believe it was in my sight. I crossed it and
let out one of the most relieving sighs of my life, followed by a crippling sob
as I fell into my friends’ arm that ran it with me. There was a feeling of release,
as I physically crossed the line and spiritually let go of everything that God
had loosened in me through this race and its training. The cross of that finish
line must be what it is like to cross over into the divine realm of heaven, a
sigh of relief after much training and struggle. God used such an ordinary race
to completely change my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment