I felt as strong as an ant attempting to clean and jerk 200 pounds.

I felt as strong as an ant attempting to clean and jerk 200 pounds.

 Only the weak cry. You cannot be weak and run roundtrip from Madison to Rutledge.  

I scheduled an early training run out Dixie Highway. Good news is Dixie Highway perfectly simulates marathon race conditions. Long, straight and boring. That’s also the bad news.

After starting, everything was fine until mile 5. The sun darted behind gray clouds, the temperature dropped and a raging headwind began to howl. At mile 7, a chocolate chip energy bar waited. That usually made me very, very happy but not today. Taking off gloves to open some water, my hands appeared the color of my fluorescent orange running top; nothing would warm them. I was in big trouble.

 Calm down. Only a mile remained to Rutledge. But when I tried to run, the wind slammed into my thighs covering them with cement. Regroup, you can do this. Then calamity struck. My iPod earbuds, those music-pounding givers-of-life, kept blowing out. I couldn’t run another step without music.

I prayed.

Dear sweet Jesus by some supernatural intervention, please keep these earphones stuck in my ears. I believed a miracle would happen. Maybe Jesus would appear in running tights and a pair of Sauconys to run alongside with his hands cupped around my ears?

I ran two feet and the earbuds blew out again. I stopped at the Whistling Dixie Farm sign and…cried. No mass of media, no championship game on the line, no black eye-patches flashing scripture. How was I going to run 26 miles next month when I couldn’t even make it a half mile? I start walking toward the bright lights of Rutledge to call for a ride home. Game over.

Approaching Fairplay Road and certain defeat, I looked up to see an oncoming train. Not wanting to wait in cold wind at the crossing, I dashed across the tracks into an alley just behind the shops. Running through the buildings, I caught my reflection. I looked strong –  albeit slow. I’m always slow but I felt as strong as an ant attempting to clean and jerk 200 pounds. With the wind slamming into me again, my inner ant whispered. “Turn. Just turn back and run toward Madison.”

I write this not because I’m an idiot to run to Rutledge or to brag about such. It’s about one of the greatest epiphanies in my life. Once I turned…the wind vanished. Within a block, I wasn’t cold. Running 8 miles back to Madison, I got stronger and stronger and stronger.

Whatever you’re facing right now, hang in there. You have prayed, cried and done everything in human strength to keep your dream alive or to just stay alive. The elements taunt that you’ll never win. Defeat appears inevitable.

Don’t give in.

Everything is about to swing in your favor. The wind is on the verge of a monumental shift. That train steamrolling your way is just the obstacle that will cause your turn toward deliverance. No matter what emotions and surroundings scream, you are so very close. Don’t give up now.

And don’t make fun of grown women who cry in the middle of long runs on Dixie Highway (or dear boys who happen to cry after losing football games). For lest we forget, even John 11:35.