First Half Marathon (Life Update + Encouragement)

One night in the winter of last year, I decided that I was going to run ten miles. It was the last thing I thought before drifting off to sleep under the warmth of my thick covers.

The next day, I went out and did it. I ran ten miles’ worth of laps, around and around, underneath a bleak sky.

Those ten miles were the last milestone I passed before my strength started quickly declining. Only two months later, I found myself struggling to jog two miles. That previous ten-mile run seemed like a foggy view of a distant memory.

Throughout the rest of that year I slipped further down before I started the long and slow journey of climbing back up.

But last Friday night, I decided that I was going to run a half marathon. It was the last thing I thought before drifting off to sleep again.

On the Saturday that followed, a year from the day I ran my first ten-miler, I did it. I covered over thirteen miles, running forward under the harsh sunlight.

The strength that I felt during this half marathon hadn’t even felt natural. My fastest mile was the ninth one. My average pace by mile was a minute and a half faster than my pace from those ten miles the year before.

I couldn’t believe how quickly I had weakened over the course of that year. But I also couldn’t believe how quickly I had grown stronger.

I’m telling you all of this because it has an important reminder:

All of your steps will add up in the end.

And sometimes progress can look a lot like taking one step forward, only to take two more steps back. There will be slips and falls, wrong turns and setbacks.

But all of those steps will add up in the end.

“And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”

~Galatians 6:9, ESV

When I ran my first ten-miler, nobody saw me do it. There have been so many times when I’ve trained so hard, pouring my whole heart out, while nobody was watching.

But they say that character is who you are when nobody is watching.

All that hard work—It doesn’t go unseen.

And all that hard work—It eventually adds up.

There’s a God Who’s seen every small act of kindness you’ve done. Every temptation you’ve so faithfully fought.

Every time you think you’ve hit the end of your road and yet choose to take that next step—There’s a God Who sees that. There’s a God Who sees it all.

Every time you think you’ve hit the end of your road and yet choose to take that next step—There’s a God Who sees that.

And every day, with every step—even the small ones—we’re slowly becoming more and more like Christ. Our faith is getting stronger each day.

Our view of this world is changing as we experience its brokenness. But it’s changing for the better as we focus on the hope of heaven.

“Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, ⁴ and endurance produces character, and character produces hope.”

~Romans 5:3-4, ESV

I love running because I can feel my legs getting stronger with every step. My legs ache more as I keep running on, but I know that my pain will become my strength in the days to come.

With every step, we gain experience. We learn and grow. We develop character. We discover hope.

When I look back on these past years, I can see how with every experience of mine—every time my hands have stroked the pool’s cool water or my feet have pounded the earth’s dusty surface—I’ve grown stronger.

And every time I’ve whispered a quiet prayer, lifted up a song of praise, or even questioned God’s care for me, my faith has grown stronger.

But as my faith has grown stronger, my realization of my need for God has also grown stronger.

Because I’m far from perfect. I’m broken. All of my injuries and health issues have reminded me of how fragile the human body truly is. And all of my wild emotions and anxieties have reminded of how fragile the human heart truly is.

And the inner emptiness, the weariness, the longing—It’s reminded me of how broken the human soul truly is.

We’re all broken pieces.

But we’re broken pieces that still keep running.

And we’re broken pieces that, with every step, are being made more whole.

All of our steps will add up in the end. Our pain will become our strength in the days to come. And our suffering, our fear and our shame and all the things that weigh us down, will be left a million away.

A million miles away, left behind at the foot of the cross. A million miles away, left behind as we take our first steps in eternity.

Steps become miles, and miles become marathons.

But it all starts by just faithfully taking those steps.