Starting Line
Have you ever run a race? Several years ago, I trained to run the 500 Festival Mini-Marathon in Indianapolis. The 13.1-mile race in early May serves as the kick-off to a month of Indy 500 festivities and attracts thousands of runners and walkers from around the world.
Snow covered the ground when my training began in February. I loved running in the snow. Give me a crisp chilly day over hot and humid every time. In cold air I never got overheated regardless of how hard I ran. Was it possible for Indiana’s famously wild weather to provide me with a cool Spring race day? I could hope.
Two weeks before the Mini I faced the longest practice run of my life: 10 miles. As an incentive my coach offered a free bag of protein powder (valued at $100) if I successfully ran the whole 10 miles without stopping. I appreciated her intention, but my personal pride was a higher motivation. I wanted to prove to myself and others that I could do it.
And, I did!
Me…I ran 10 whole miles. I honestly didn’t think I could do it. On that day, I amazed myself.
Then race day arrived. I was extremely nervous. Tens of thousands of participants lined up. Elite runners with near-Olympic paces stood ready to lead the way. With the official start, they took off like gazelles while a mass of runners and walkers followed behind. Crossing the starting line was a slow process for those near the back. I’d come here to run my race and was limited to inching forward at a snail’s pace.
By the time my coach and I neared the starting line, we were itching to go. It had taken us nearly an hour at shuffle-speed to get there, so when I saw START, I took off at a pace more suited for a 5K than a mini-marathon. I started too fast.
It wasn’t an extremely hot day, but the faster pace and rising temperatures brought on a troubling thirst by Mile 3. I could feel myself getting overheated. I suddenly felt sick. My side ached. By Mile 5 I told my coach I’d have to walk. She could have kept running and finished far earlier — my coach was a much faster runner than I was — but she had committed to stay by my side. So, we walked. We walked until I could run again. Then, we walked again.
That was how I finished the race. My time was irrelevant. All that mattered then was knowing I crossed the finish line before the race bus passed by to pick up the straggling non-finishers. It wasn’t the race I wanted to run. Though I was proud to be a finisher, I was frustrated and sad about lacking the ability to run all 13.1 miles.
But, I learned a valuable lesson then that continues to help me today: Where we start matters.
I’m not good enough.
I’m not pretty enough.
I’m not skinny enough.
I’m too loud.
I’m too sensitive.
I’m too ….
I’m not… enough.
What is it for you?
What I have come to realize is that when I feel not enough, it’s because I’ve started in the wrong place. I’ve started from a place that is dependent on what others think of me and feel about me. When we start from that place, it will almost always lead to feeling less than or too much.
However, when I start from the place of who my God is, the journey is completely different. When I start at “My God loves me, He is for me, He is fighting for me and He wants good things for me” then I am always enough.
When I start to think the above untruths, I stop, take a breath, slow down, and re-start.
My God loves me…is for me…is fighting for me…wants good things for me.
That truth leads me to a place of love, acceptance and rest. In that truth, I am not dependent on what someone else thinks. Instead, I am resting in the truth of how my God sees me. We can rest in that truth because unlike humans, God never changes and His love for us is unconditional.