I’ve never been very good at racing.
In first grade, I was chased around the playground every single recess by a boy with thick glasses. He caught me every time–until I discovered swings.
In fourth grade, I raced the entire class and tried to be the first one done with tests. That smart aleck always seemed to win, though–whether it was finishing first or getting all the answers right. Bless your little soul, Chad.
My sophomore year of college, I decided to sign up for my first 5k. Only to discover while running it that it was in fact a five mile race. And the thirteen year old that I’d been trying to keep up with–and even passed a few times–ended up finishing before me.
Time of my life, obviously.
It’s safe to say I haven’t had the best race record. So signing up for WR and dubbing the title “Racer” is a little daunting to me. Will I survive? Will I be able to cross the finish line? Will there be any swings I can escape to or any study guides to help me prepare?
I’m not exactly sure what this Race will hold, but here are a few of my expectations:
1. I expect to not know what to expect.
I know this completely contradicts the previous [and following] statements, but after reading countless blogs, stalking Instagram accounts and hearing stories of the diversity of each Racer and Race, I’ve come to the conclusion that I have no idea what I’ve signed up for. Each experience and route is different, so I’m trying not to set limitations and expectations for my Race. Here’s to hoping.
2. I expect to wear the same outfit for a week. Or two. And not care.
This sounds shallow I know, but being the girl who cried when her favorite pair of overalls ripped in second grade to the woman I am now with the rapid closet turnover rate [bless you, Goodwill], this is going to be quite a challenge for me to overcome. But I have a feeling that wearing the same t-shirt for a month isn’t going to bother me all that much. I guess God’s been working on my materialistic heart already.
3. I expect to cry.
I don’t cry. Hardly ever. But something strange has been happening the last few months: Cute animals have practically made me tear up. Guess my hardened tear ducts have re-read their job description and are preparing to release the floodgates on the Race. One look at a little child and I’ma be a goner.
4. I expect to miss America.
When I went to Costa Rica and Italy, I didn’t miss America one bit. While the rest of my friends couldn’t wait to get home and have their cells phones and Taco Bell again, I actually dreaded returning to the homeland. And while I’m more excited to leave for the Race than I am sad to say goodbye to America, I think it’d be arrogant of me not to assume that I’ll definitely have moments of homesickness. Of cravings for a giant cheeseburger [I’m a bipolar vegetarian, I have my moments]. Of longing for minimal language barriers and rare misunderstandings. Cue the crying.
5. I expect to fall in love.
I’m a skeptic when it comes to opening up and forming relationships [both platonic and romantic] but somehow kids so easily break through the walls to my heart and wring it out like a rag. In the most beautiful way. I know that’s going to happen a lot. Be still, my heart.
6. I expect to fail– and discover God like never before.
I’m so scared for the Race. Terrified. And yet so at peace because God called me to go to the ends of the earth for him. I know there will be moments when I’ll think I’m fine, that I have everything together. And then I’ll fail [cue that crying again] and crawl back to God. And discover his love, grace, and strength on a whole new level. I think that’s what I’m most looking forward to: failing and watching God show up to use the ugly, the broken for his beauty and glory.
So there you have it. All my insecurities, fears, and expectations of this wild adventure exposed and revealed in word form. In seven months I’ll probably be cocooned in my sleeping bag on the ground of some foreign continent bawling and wondering what on earth I’m doing. And yet I know that there’ll be no other place I will rather be.
On your mark. Get set. Race.
