Marathon Sunday

Last fall, Jennifer and I decided we wanted to train to run the OKC Memorial Marathon. We put our schedule on the fridge and marked off our days as we trained. We made it about 9 weeks before we both just got so busy we couldn't keep up any longer. The holidays came, and Oklahoma saw a lot of snow and training became less and less important.
I never registered for the marathon, because it costs a lot of money. That was probably my first mistake--because it made letting my slacking become less of a big deal.
Jennifer signed up to do the relay with her siblings. I didn't really have anything like that available to me as an option, so I had just put it in the back of my head as something I'd work harder to do next year. I kept casually running in my free time, about 2 or 3 miles. Not really trying, just running without a goal of any kind.
Then I had my jaw surgery. I was on a liquid diet for 2 weeks, followed by soft foods for the following 4. It was after the first week of not being allowed to eat anything I realized that I really wanted to run. I had to wait until I could get some sort of nourishment in me before I could, so when I got the chance I headed out to the track to see if I could make it a couple miles.
I did.
And I was hooked.
I made out a schedule of how I would spend my days training. I set an ultimate 5K time goal, and a plan to work my time down to it. And with the end in mind, I have been able to come back into running stronger than I've been in years.

So this morning was the marathon.
I knew I wasn't running in it, but when I woke up this morning for church, something wasn't right. I didn't want to go (which is really rare for me lately, because I LOVE my church).
I didn't want to go because I felt like there was something else I needed to be doing.
So I put on my sunblock and shoes and drove out to the lake. I took a deep breath and started my watch and I took off.
I knew there wasn't going to be a reward, or a finish line, or a bunch of very convenient drink stations. But there was me, the sunshine, the water, and the 9 mile path ahead. There was motivation to run.
Even though I didn't pay to run for victims of the bombing, I ran for them.
And I ran for Rosemary
and Aunt Kim
and Mr. Porecca
and Katie Kirkpatrick.
I ran because I can, and sometimes I just have to remember what working hard feels like.
To teach me something about pain.
To remind me that if I stop, I can't finish.

I press on toward the goal to win the prize in which God has called me heavenward in Christ, Jesus.
Sure, there wasn't a reward at the end of my run. But the reminder that once I've finished pounding out the steps, wishing it was over; I have rest for my weary legs.

This morning was Marathon Sunday.
You draw the parallels. I know you can find them.