Yesterday was race day. I could barely contain my excitement. I felt good, the park was gorgeous, the energy at the starting line was hard to contain.
Unfortunately, at about mile 4 a recurring issue with my left knee flared up. As much as I tried to ignore it, the pain turned my carefully developed stride into an awkward limping gait. My first priority was to finish the race, so I decided to slow down even walk if necessary to try to nurse the pain into a functional pace. I stopped for a little medical advice and pressed on. I would walk for a minute or two then jog for 40 seconds and repeat. The walking periods gradually got longer and the jogging moments got shorter.
Lots of people started passing me. I had no problem when the young men passed me. I had mentally prepared for that because the trainers say to be sure to stick to your planned pace regardless of what others do.
At the mile 5 marker, a loud speaker came on, "stay to the right, leader coming through." I turned around to see a truck behind me. I stayed to the right to let the truck pass and a bit behind him was this nice young man cruising along at maybe a 6 minute mile pace. Since the route loops around a lake twice, I knew that for him, the spot was mile 10. He had "lapped" me. Behind him were others cruising along in the sunshine.
But that was to be expected. I am no Olympian.
Soon bigger, older people started passing me, and I started getting frustrated. The race started lagging on. I had all the energy in my heart and lungs, but I was weighed down with a knee that wouldn't cooperate. It was as if I had a ball and chain tied around my left ankle. It really got to me when a power-walking lady who looked 60-something caught up to me.
I started thinking about success and how much the world values "success" and how hard it is to feel weak and unsuccessful. When I talked with folks about the half marathon, I got affirmation and respect. Just the notion that I am going to do it, garners a sense of assumed success and status. We earthlings like things like marathons. Sacrifice, discipline, desire, determination, hard work that all adds up to success -- that's the storyline we love.
But there I was hobbling along as if I hadn't trained at all, looking mostly like an idiot.
As I hobbled down the trail, its as if an ancient master was taking me for a little walk to tell me something -- not so much like a race. "Let me tell you something about the world," He said, "the world likes success. You like success. You like success because then you can be over someone (like that power-walking lady and all those people who "shouldn't" have passed you), but there is a different way. Look at this sunshine I made for you. Look at the way it sparkles on the fresh snow. Talk to the special people walking beside you. You have such a hard time not feeling "successful," but that feeling is itself the test. Are you willing to press on even with that feeling, even with the reality that you are towards the back of the line? Let me challenge your notions of who exactly is the first. The greatest should be like the least, the master should be the servant, the first should be last." (Luke 22: 25-27 with a lot of poetic license).
P.S. Now it occurs to me. This race was for mom, and nothing was more like her -- acknowledging brokenness, finding beauty in the change in plans, communing with the Creator. Maybe it was a success after all.
