More than ten years ago, the spring snow still frozen in icy patches here and there on the yellowed grass, my body was poised in runner’s lunge on the rubbery track, every muscle quivering in anticipation. I filled my lungs with cool, spring air, and the gunshot blasted — sending me off on the 400-meter dash.
My old, weathered gym shoes methodically hit the track and my steady breathing kept time with my steps. I started out strong, like I always do in this mid-distance race, leading the pack as we rounded the first bend. Even so, it was hard to judge how I was doing when the lanes play tricks on your perception.
The straightway stretched further than I recalled and I questioned my sanity in running the race that requires an all-out sprint for the whole quarter mile — the race deemed “the killer race.” Just the thought reminded my legs how tired they already were.
Still I ran on, hoping that maybe this race would be different.
Today, I know you’re weary. You give your all day after day, but this race of life is more taxing than you ever expected.
I know. I've been there too...
***To read the rest of my post, click here and join me over at DaySpring's (in)courage website where I am so honored to be guest posting today. {And while you are there, don't forget to sign up to receive free daily encouragement delivered straight to your inbox.}
Join me today as I share a lesson I learned from a dear high school track teammate. And as you read, let the words breathe encouragement into your heart.
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