I like to run, generally speaking. But the summer heat and humidity just flatten me. I have typically trotted for an occasional 2 or 4 miles over the summer—and been glad to end at that. But the kind of long, intensifying training runs that a half marathon require are a humbling reminder of how weak I really am.
This morning it was 9 miles. I woke up feeling depleted and weak. To be honest, I’ve been dreading the 9 mile run ever since I finished the wretched 8 mile run last week. And this particular week has been one of the more grueling (not bad, just packed with demands).
By mile 1, I was tired. I typically count off the half-mile stretches and mentally track my course, but I just couldn’t. I knew I wasn’t strong enough to finish. So for the remaining 8 miles of the run, I fixed my eyes on a spot on the sidewalk 10 or 20 feet ahead and ran to it.
Then I picked another spot. And so forth. Every time I lifted my head to see the long hill ahead or the distant mile marker I was crawling toward, I wanted to quit. So I’d look down again for the next crack or tuft of grass or paint splotch and run 10 feet farther.
The verse that has been cropping up the past few weeks is 2 Corinthians 12:9:
And He has said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for [My] power is perfected in weakness.” Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.I finally crossed the official ending line (the crack in front of the neighbor’s driveway) and slowed to walk. My left pinky toe had a blister (developed at mile 7), and I was spent. But at the same time, it was exhilarating to experience, in my own body, a spiritual reality that will hold true no matter what the traumas, trials, or temptations may come in the days ahead.
One leg at a time, one aching step at a time, His grace will carry me through.
