The Finish Line

This past weekend, I had the pleasure of walking (yes, walking…intentionally) the USMC Historic Half with two of my favorite people. During the course of a 13.1 mile walk (or run, I imagine) there are good times and bad times. You have lots of time to talk with your friends. You laugh at the signs, you commiserate and celebrate with the people around you. People spill into the streets to encourage you and support you with water or Gatorade, or just a smile and a wave. There are sites to see and a variety of things to keep you entertained. It feels good to be outside and alive.

In the midst of all the fun, however, there are challenges. There are daunting hills to climb, and no matter how much you prepare, you can’t control the weather. Discomfort is a given, and injury is always a possibility. In spite of your training, you eventually get sore, tired, and discouraged. At some point, you wonder if you’ll make it, and there is a nasty little voice inside your head telling you you won’t.

But as long as you keep taking one more step and one more step, you continue to press on. The finish line beckons you, and a great throng of people cheer you toward your goal. And then you cross the line and leave all the momentary difficulties behind you. You forget the blisters. You forget the hills. You forget the horrors of the port-a-potties. You forget that you’ve been up since 4:30 and that you’re hungry and thirsty and tired.

Someone places a medal around your neck. You throw your arms around those who walked with you along the way and your loved ones that cheered for you. You rejoice, and every hurdle you faced is forgotten. And the nasty little voice is silenced.

“For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.” -2 Corinthians 4:17.