Four years of fighting and struggling comes down to this one moment. This one throw. My heart is racing after watching my teammate throw. I step to the side, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. I hear the official call my name. I hear my coach, friends, family, and teammates give me one last shout of encouragement. I step on the runway. I take another deep breath. Everything fades away. All that is before me is an open field. It’s me, the javelin, and the runway. I step my right foot back, go up on my toes, lean back, and then take off. It’s five steps. 1-2-3-4-5. Although I’m not counting because the rhythm is ingrained in my head from months of training. On my fifth step I rotate my body for the drawback. My right arm stretches behind me with the tip of the jav right next to my face. Tail high. Knuckles up. Wrist locked. Keep it steady. Speed. This time it’s seven cross over steps, but once again I just feel the rhythm. My last three steps are crucial as I get ready to plant but don’t want to lose momentum. Pull. Quick. Block. Throw…
The story you are about to read is not just a track story. It’s not just a story about an athlete. It’s not even really a story of success. The story you are about to read is about perseverance. It’s about not giving up even when you have every reason to stop. It’s about God’s faithfulness and strength even in the pain, the fight, the struggle.
My senior year of high school, I signed with MidAmerica Nazarene University to throw javelin. I knew I wasn’t that great, but I knew I had potential, and I was willing to work for it. I went in as a freshman ready to get better every day. But then I found out I needed wrist surgery if I wanted to throw without pain. I decided to redshirt that year. I was still optimistic, though. I mean three years of competing is still a lot. It was enough for me.
Sophomore year I was ready. This girl was back. Or more like I needed a new back. Freshman year I hurt my back, but because of my wrist surgery I never found out what was wrong. But the pain came back (no pun intended). I went through months of doctors’ appointments and tests and shots and physical therapy, but I was determined. I could still compete in one last meet to qualify for conference. Yet, I still had excruciating pain. Even more, when I picked up the javelin to throw my body forgot how to do it. Two weeks of training wasn’t going to change that. So once again, I didn’t compete.
The next year came and I knew I was stronger. I had to continue a few weeks of PT in the beginning, but this was the year. Training wasn’t super great, but I felt good to at least be training. Then my coach quit. Which, after already have four coaches in 2.5 years, it didn’t really hit me too hard, but it was still a challenge. Even more, after 6.5 years of throwing jav I still didn’t really know what I was doing. Anyways, I quickly realized how much I loved my new coach’s philosophy on throwing. Outdoor season came and I had some decent meets and some awful meets, but none came close to my high school career. I hated that. In fact, I hated javelin. I would tell people that I had a love/hate relationship with jav. In reality, it was all hate. But, I kept going.
My last year, senior year, I didn’t care what happened distance wise, I just wanted to love javelin again. And I did. My coach estimates that this season I threw about three to four thousand javelin type throws. Yes, you read that right. Seven months of training, all for six meets. Which depending on if you make finals or not, that’s 18-36 competition throws. Of my first five meets, I threw a PR (personal record) in three of them. Every time I PR’d I would be happy. Yet, I was never satisfied. I knew I had more in me. And I did.
Conference meet came and I had two goals. Score points for the team, even if it was only one, and throw 120 feet, which had been my lifelong goal. In pre-lims, I had thrown just one meter off the PR that I had set the previous week. That put me in third place going into finals. Three more throws. First one, foul. Shake it off. Then the girl in fourth place passed me, bumping me down to fourth. Nope! I wasn’t going to let that happen. My second throw in finals hurt. Stepping off the runway I felt like someone had kicked me in my back. For those who don’t know much about javelin, that usually means that I did something right. Other than the way my body hurt, I didn’t think much of the throw except that it wasn’t a foul and I was going to get a mark. Little did I know that after seeing that throw, my coach knew that that was the one. I walked to get my jav as the official read the mark. 37.49 meters. My friends, family, and teammates who were watching broke out cheering. Not only was that a PR, but it put me back in third. And not only did that put me back in third, but it was 123 feet. I had hit my lifetime goal.
Since then, I’ve been thinking about my journey. Even though right now it all feels good, I still remember the struggle.
I still remember going to the ER because my back was hurting worse than any pain I’d ever experienced. I still remember not being able to use my wrist for months. I still remember lying in bed having more pain crying out to God asking why. I still remember being told I would never be able to throw without pain. I still remember praying time and time again asking God to heal me. I still remember going to my “first” college meet to find out I didn’t get in because I didn’t have a mark. I still remember wanting to quit jav because I couldn’t throw it normally. I still remember hating practice. I still remember fouling four times in my last meet.
But you know what I really remember. Finishing. I can’t remember all the times either people told me to quit, or I asked myself if I should quit. But as cliché as it is, failure is irrelevant unless you quit. I hate giving up, especially when things get tough.
While getting third in javelin and being All-Conference my senior year is cool and all, what I gained most from my throwing career is the life lesson of not giving up.
I believe that God has used these last four years to show me the importance of not giving up, because no matter what struggles I face, in the end it is worth it. I’m not just talking about athletics or academics or things like that, but rather the bigger picture of serving Him. And it couldn’t be a more timely lesson. As I follow my calling in missions work I know things will be hard. Jesus tells us there will be struggles. There will be many days that I will want to give up. Even these last few days for me have already been really hard. I would be lying if I said the thought of giving up didn’t cross my mind. Yet, the Lord keeps reminding me of His faithfulness in these last four years.
So, when things get hard, remember HE IS FAITHFUL. Lean on Him for strength, and keep going. In the end, it is worth it. Jesus is worth it.
2 Chronicles 15:7
But as for you, be strong and do not give up, for your work will be rewarded.
James 1:2-4
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.
Philippians 3:14
I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.
