Race Finish

There is one other thing that is very present this month: the end of

the Race.   Since our last month in Africa we’ve been extra-conscious of

the fact that we’re actually coming home soon.   The number one question

we’re asking each other now is, “so what are you doing when you get

home?”  Answers vary: some of us are going back to the mission field,

some are headed for further training with AIM or similar organizations,

some are going back to previously held jobs, and many of us are going

home with the whole world available to us (or in pessimistic terms, no

idea what we’re doing and no money to do it with).   The main thing

we’re told is to ‘stay present’ – that is, to not dip out of ministry

for the last few months just because the end is in sight.  It’s not

always easy.   We spend a lot of our downtime talking about the magical

land of Los Angeles, where we’ll be able to speak to anyone behind a

cash register without a translator, where we can eat In-N-Out and visit

Disneyland, where we can have hot showers and sit in air conditioning

and not have to pay for public toilets… the list goes on and on.     We’re not fixated on the future by any means, but it’s only three weeks

away now and it’s hard not to anticipate it at least a little.   It has

honestly been a very long trip, and we’re all in one way or another

ready to be home.

I’m reminded of my high school days when I ran cross-country.  I was

never very good, but it was a fun time.  I’ve always loved distance

running – just me and God and the trail. Distance running isn’t like

sprinting.   For sprints, you go as hard as you can and hope you make it

to the finish line first.   You just can’t sprint a 5k race, though.  You have to pace yourself.   Keeping a consistent pace is one of the

most important aspects of distance running, but it’s also the most

deceptive.   Humans have a tendency to not push ourselves as hard as we

truly can go.  I’ve noticed this a lot in running especially – I get

done with a race and I still have some energy.  I don’t quite know my

limits.   To combat this, our coach trained us in what we call ‘race

finishes’.  It didn’t matter if we were training two miles or ten, we

ran at whatever pace we felt comfortable at, but at the end we had to

turn it up.   Somewhere before the end of the run, maybe half a mile or

so, we started to pick up our pace.   The goal was to end the run at our

absolute top speed, using up the last of our energy to finish in good

time.   I never actually ran out of reserves before it was time for a

race finish, so I don’t know if it felt harder when you were actually

on empty, but I do know there was a feeling of excitement as I began.   Not only

was I running faster, maybe even overtaking a few competitors, but I

knew the end was close.  I feel better when I’m in a dead sprint,

especially after a long race.   When you know that you really are giving

everything you have to finishing the race, it’s a very liberating

moment.  All the aches and pains accumulated during the race, the

internal dialogue that every distance runner keeps to stay on track,

everything just falls away and you are converted into one single

thought: RUN.  There is no room for anything else.   I’ve run races

where I didn’t do a race finish, but not many.   If you stumble across

the finish line, barely able to take the next step, honestly believing

that you’re totally exhausted, only to find that you have another

reserve of energy you never tried to tap – it’s embarrassing.   I end

races like that and mentally kick myself – what good is that extra bit

of energy to me now?   I can’t trade that in for even a few seconds off

my race time, much as I might want to.  It only counts for anything

when I lay it out on the course.   The races I feel best about at the

end aren’t the ones where I run my fastest.  They’re not the ones where

I place high, or beat a rival – they’re the ones where I cross the

finish line at a dead sprint and collapse in that exact second.   When

we finished a race, we had one question we always asked each other.   “Did you

leave it all out there?”  Did you come back from that race having used

every last ounce of energy?   Did you finish that race with absolutely

nothing left – or did you save some back?   We learned very soon that

there wasn’t any comparison between fast runners and slow, between

varsity team captains and the freshmen running reserve, in terms of

time.   Nobody grudged anyone else their fast time, nobody mocked anyone

else for running slow.  The way you knew you could hold your head high

at the team meeting the next day had nothing to do with how fast you

ran – it was all about how well.  If you finished the race and had

nothing left – nothing held back – you ran a good race.

That’s what I’m thinking about as I come to the end of another kind of

Race.   I’ve got one month left.  Three weeks remain on the World Race –

three weeks to have an impact for the Kingdom of God.   I don’t want to

come home and realize that I missed out.   I don’t want to come home and

say, “Huh.   I could have done that for another ten months easily.”  I

want to be worn out, tired, totally without the ability or prospect of

further use – much like my clothes – and so completely USED that it

seems like I’ve been used UP.   Of course, when I have Infinite God as

my source of strength to draw on I can’t really ever run out, but I

sure can hit human limits of endurance and need some recharge time.  I

want to need some downtime when I get home.  I want to be drained, not

because I enjoy the feeling of being completely exhausted, but because

I’ll know I left it all out there.  Every month God has requested more

of me: more presence, more passion, more discipline, more LOVE.  Every

month I’ve had to rely on Him more strongly to provide all those

things.   Now, He wants everything I have left.  Race finish time.

I’m coming home soon – but not yet!  Don’t touch that dial, young readers – there’s more to come!