Finish the Race

Every Thanksgiving across this nation there are annual traditional foot races, commonly referred to as “turkey trots.” I’m sure you’re familiar with them or may have even participated in one.

Many years ago, my twin, Chrissy, who was an avid runner and participated in many races for several years, asked me to join her in the annual turkey trot in Upstate New York. This race was a tradition in the area since 1916 and is now one of the largest races in the United States. It features both a 5k (3.1 miles) and a 10k race. My sister was registered for the 5K.

I was a Christian for a little less than a year at the time. As someone who still smoked a pack and a half of cigarettes per day for the previous seven years, and who had never jogged, let alone run a race, balked at the idea. Besides, Thanksgiving was only five days away! My sister was persistent however and I finally relented with only three days to prepare.

For the next three days I arose early, donned my warmest attire, and braved the frigid morning temperatures. I barely completed a mile the first day, huffing and puffing along the way. By the third day, I pushed myself and made it a half mile further, still quite short of the 3.1 miles.

Race day arrived, and I very nervous. I was sure I wouldn’t be able to finish the race and would be humiliated. Why did I let Chrissy talk me into this?

When they yelled “Go!” we took off, but I paced myself. I couldn’t keep up with my sister, and it seemed everyone was passing me by. I was confident I could finish the first mile as I had done so the previous three days. Each step of my snail-paced jog grew harder and harder and so did my breathing. By the end of the second mile my sister was long gone and most everyone had passed me. My smoking habit (which I gave up a few years after that race) had clearly made the effort more difficult. I prayed I would be able to finish.

I thought for sure I had reached the limit of my ability during the last mile, but somehow got a second wind. My pace grew slower and slower, but I was determined to make it over the finish line. Chrissy and bystanders were cheering me on. “You’re almost there!” someone shouted. “You can do this!” yelled another. I could see my goal a short distance away. With sheer exhaustion, I crossed the finished line. In last place! But I was so happy. I was grinning from cheek to cheek. I had completed what to me was a monumental task. To someone else I may have looked like a loser, but to me I won. My aspirations were never of winning, only finishing.

That 5K race reminds me a lot of a Christian’s journey. Sometimes the road is rough, and we may be tempted to give up the faith, but if we persevere, God will see us through. And with the help of our friends by our side to encourage us and cheer us on, we can make it.

Hebrews 12:1 says, “Let us run with perseverance, the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.”