run with endurance.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a could of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God [Hebrews 12:1-2]

After fighting through a fun week of a sore throat, runny nose (and all that other good stuff), I was determined to suck it up for 13.1 miles this Sunday for the LB half marathon. I wasn’t feeling nearly as prepared as the Surf City Half back in February and my excitement was buried beneath tissues and a lack of motivation. The night before, I meditated on these verses and completely surrendered it all to God. As always, I knew I would surely need God to be my strength.

Brento and I arrived in gloomy Long Beach by 5am as the dark streets were jam-packed with proud runners stuffed in cars with bumper stickers like “Divas <3 to Run.” We stretched out, waited in a ginormous line for the potty and headed to the start line.



Miles 1 and 2 were a breeze while hundreds of us ran like a school of fishies. At mile 3 and 4, I was still feeling good, feeding off the energy of the diverse and enthusiastic crowd. Then at miles 5-8, I felt my body shutting down. I felt defeated as people kept zooming by me, but my competitve nature would not allow that. As my pride increased, so did the pain. My bad left knee was about to go out, my lungs were pushing full throttle by then. The energy bar from earlier and baby cups of powerade throughout the race were just not cuttin’ it. By mile 9, my vision was blurred and I had to stop several times to stretch out and breathe. More intense prayer kicked in by now. Miles 10 and 11 were a fight with myself although the cheers on the sidelines and strangers’ high fives gave me little boosts throughout the way. Then on mile 12, I just couldn’t do it. I had to stop. As I started to walk, I suddenly noticed a shirtless man ahead of me with a fatty tattoo on his back of a cross on a hill. I started to pick up the pace once again, feeling unusually rejuvenated and literally fixed my eyes on the cross to draw me to that finish line.







Now, the race continues and I must press on.
And I must remember where to focus my eyes---
on You, oh Lord, help me to always fix my eyes on You.