start somewhere (why not here?)

34:06

That was my 5k race time for the Rocky Grove invitational this past weekend.

10 minutes slower than it was 3 years ago.

But, I did it.

after 2 long years.

after being told it was impossible.

after losing that part of me.

I stepped over that finish line.

I never thought I'd be able to say that again.

So, why should I beat myself up over a set of numbers?

I started, and I finished.

Not many even start…

I almost didn’t.

But, I did.

And here’s what it took:

A bit of a push— it took a first step. A step I was finally able to take.

But able doesn’t always mean able.

Fearful, I ran from it. Taking that step meant taking a risk; risking failure. Risking being wrong. Risking being unable to take that full step. So, rather than taking a half step, I decided to not take one at all.

For a long, long time.

It seemed like the only way to avoid failure.

Little did I know, you can fail by doing nothing, just as much as you can fail by doing something.

You can do nothing wrong and still do nothing right.

If I’ve learned anything these past two years, it’s that our longest lasting regrets are the opportunities we leave on the table.

I couldn’t just leave this one to die with the rest.

I would rather live in the “what if” than the “if only”.

So, I took the step and I asked.

And last Saturday, a part of me was healed.

A part of me that hasn’t been healed in so long.

All I had to do was run the mile I was in.

But, that doesn’t mean it was easy.

Actually, it wasn’t in the slightest.

There was no moment in time that I didn’t doubt crossing that finish line… up until I crossed that finish line.

That Summer prior, I threw out the idea of ever running again.

That week prior, this dream was merely a fantasy.

That Wednesday prior, I realized how much slower I truly was.

That Thursday prior, I was unable to even hit 3 miles. I stopped running and cried, cursing God at the thought of my weak body.

That Friday prior, my heart raced all day, and the low probability of this situation working out dawned on me.

That Saturday morning, my body shook thinking about what I was about to attempt.

20 minutes before the race, I panicked and then began feeling the physical effect of my worried mind.

A quarter mile into the race, I thought I’d have to drop out.

Tears filled my eyes as I prepared to accept the failure.

I knew I wouldn't be able to finish.

Turns out, I was wrong.

Man am I glad I was wrong.

I finished the race.

I made it my race.

Suddenly nothing mattered, I was going to cross that finish line, no matter what it took.

For the first time in so long, I gave myself grace.

I decided to be ok with the half step, because a half step is better than no step.

And God is no less great because of it.

A start is all it takes.

God’s Will will prevail.

But it takes the first step.

I won’t lie to you, I wanted that race to go differently than it did.

Part of me was still hanging on to the hope of a sub 25 time. Even simply sub 30. I just wanted better. All I ever wanted was to be great.

I never got the chance to be great.

What if I could have been great?

I remember how much it hurt me to say my PR out loud 3 years ago.

24:36

Yeah, not even that was good enough.

I always wanted to be better.

I always wanted more.

I always will want more.

But maybe I don’t have to?

Maybe the only thing that truly matters is that step over the finish line?

That’s what takes the most courage.

That’s what this is really about.

Why don’t we recognize that?

Times won’t ever be good enough. There will always be a long for more. As long as there’s more to get, there’s more to want.

But the finish line?

There’s only one of those.

There’s no “more” past that.

You can cross it just as much as I can.

It just takes a start line.

There’s no way around it— no cheat sheet.

You merely have to run the mile you are in.

Every mile has its own beauty.

The pain and the sorrow have just as much beauty as the joy and the peace.

Without each other, neither exist.

So, why not embrace every mile?

Ecclesiastes 3: a season for everything

Take your season and run with it.

And don’t forget to take every step in.

Because it takes them all.

It took me 34 minutes to run that race.

But I could have stayed in bed.

I could have remained in the season of sorrow.

But I decided it was time for a new season.

A season of hope.

A season of revival.

As David wrote in Psalm 13:

I will sing in the Lord’s praise,

for He has been good to me.

Through every season.

As it is written only a few verses prior:

How long, Lord?

Will you forget me forever?

How long will my enemy triumph over me?

Look on me and answer, Lord my God.

Give me light to my eyes.

I believe I have now seen the light.

And I believe He has been good to me.

Even if it was only a speck.

Maybe it’s not yet time for a sweet ever after,

but I believe I’m one step closer.

I would be a fool to think this means the battle is over.

I know it is not.

There is much darkness I’ve yet to walk through. Much I must still figure out.

But this time, I have that hope.

Even if it’s merely a sliver, I now know it’s there.

I may never know how good I could have been, but I also have no idea how good I can be.

Let me take that phrase I used earlier, “What if I could have been great?”

Let’s flip that.

What if I can be great?

It’s never too late to be who you might have been.

Right here. Right now.

Seasons change, it was a long winter, but spring’s right around the corner… with arms open wide.

So I throw up my hands

Praise you again and again

‘Cause all that I have is a hallelujah

Hallelujah

Gratitude- Brandon Lake

So, slow down.

You never know what you may lose without those 10 extra minutes.

Life’s a race, not a competition.

Perhaps it’s best to slow down a while, or you could just miss it.

It doesn’t matter how long it takes you, cross that finish line.

It’s not over until you take that step over.

But, it all begins with a first step over the start line.

This blog is dedicated to my 16 year old self-- you did it, kid.

You made it.

Just you wait, hold on a bit longer.

Because it is all better than you can even imagine.

Have that hope.

I couldn’t end this blog without adding the very lyrics that were right there with me through this race:

So, c'mon my soul,

Oh, don’t you get shy on me

Lift up your song

‘Cause you’ve got a lion inside those lungs

Get up and praise the Lord.

Gratitude- Brandon Lake

All this, I owe to Him.