When I was younger, I was among those who ran because it was good for me.

I never really enjoyed it. There was no hitting the wall, pushing through and feeling euphoric. The wall was the front door. And euphoria came when I didn’t go through it.photo-3

My daughter-in-law, Jillian, is cut from a different cloth. She runs for pleasure. For relaxation.

I have a huge respect for her capabilities.

Jillian recently ran the Chicago marathon. It was her sixth–my first to watch. I thought I grasped the concept of 45,000 people running together. I’ve never seen anything like it.

They came in waves. The first ones out were those in wheel chairs, many of them war veterans. I can’t begin to explain the catch in my heart when they whizzed by, applause exploding around me. Such outrageous courage expressed in the bold determination on their faces was amazing.

photo-4After these men came those with prosthetics, those running on legs not their own. Inspiring.

And then came the blind runners.

I did say blind.

They were hooked to a guide or two by a strap around their waist which went to the wrist of the ones running with them. I watched with awe as these patient people matched paces with their unseeing photo-6partners.

Finally the first wave of of “regular” runners came, led by a group of Kenyans who were unbelievably fast and so graceful in the way they ran.

Jillian was in this first group–she’s the tiny one, waving, wearing neon green and purple–grinning ear to ear with the joy of the race and the chance to be running it.

The spectators were unbelievable. I’ve been to quite a few sports competitions in my time, and I’ve never heard the consistent encouragement and celebration of all the athletes that I heard in Chicago. People urging the runners on, shouting names written on shirts with words of praise for their participation. People clapping and cheering continually–and that’s a long time for 45,000 runners to pass you by.

I wondered why it took a marathon to celebrate life and differences. Handicapped and whole, young and old, fast and slow, every runner was a part of the celebration. Every runner mattered. There was recognition that this wasn’t easy, that to attempt this physical feat was not only challenging but a sacrifice. There was appreciation for those who had counted the cost.

To God, we all matter. So much so that He made it possible for us to know that we can have hope beyond this life.   Our race has a greater significance, a grander prize, than the celebrity of a single winning run.

“You’ve all been to the stadium and seen the athletes race. Everyone runs; one wins. Run to win. All good athletes train hard. They do it for a gold medal that tarnishes and fades. You’re after one that’s gold eternally.”   ! Corinthians 9:24-25

Nobody chooses how or where we begin this race. Some of us are better prepared to run it than others. Our choice is in how we choose to run it and finish it. To celebrate the race with those around us.  To finish well.

How are you running the race?

By the way, Jillian ran the race in 2 hours, 53 minutes, finishing 18th in her age group, 47th woman, 456th over all.  Of 45,000 runners! That little gal can move!

3 responses »

  1. JulieS says:

    Wow! So well said and inspiring. I’m glad I have a “great cloud of witnesses cheering me on” and friends like you to run beside.

    *Julie Sanders*

    julie.sanders@cru.org http://www.thesandersplanet.com

  2. Mary Whited says:

    Dayle, I am off of FB, but would get back on just to share this! You keep being spot on, again and again. So glad you are sharing your gift for writing! (Can we do lunch or breakfast sometime? Still at the same house/home phone!)

  3. terry morgan says:

    So jealous of Jillian’s ability to run that far, but so encouraged by this post! Beautifully written – as always, Dayle! So again… when does your book come out? 🙂 Love you!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s