Finishing Strong

My son, in the early days of his middle school cross country running, would come up to me after a race and ask “Do you think I saved too much?” He was a good runner then, not a great one yet, and he had what some coaches would call a good “kick”, that is, the ability to pour on the speed at the end of the race when other runners would be dying out. He had seen runners go out fast, leading the pack at the beginning of the race, only to fade long before the finish. Determined not to be one of them, he came up with his own strategy. It made for an exciting last 100 meters, but it did not necessarily make for a good overall finish. He realized that saving himself so he could pass lots of runners at the end of a race was fun, but no guarantee of a finish that would please the coach and contribute to the team. “Do you think I saved too much? Yeah, I think I saved too much...”

Most of us are in a constant struggle to know how to expend our energies wisely. On our own, it's a tricky balance to figure out. In many areas of our lives - relationships, work projects, domestic tasks, church ministries – we start out strong, only to lose steam and finish poorly, half-heartedly, or not at all. Other times we start slowly, perhaps dragging our feet, but slowly gain momentum and finish our project, only to look back on it and see all the ways we could have done it differently, improved upon it, used our time and resources better. We “saved too much”...

I recently read an article* that bemoaned the fact that runners in the 25-34 age demographic are more content to just finish races, marathons specifically, than they are to finish races competitively. The generation that has grown up receiving trophies for participation in childhood sports, but not necessarily for excellence, has grown into a generation that is content to not expend much more energy than necessary to finish. “Saving too much” has become their racing strategy...

In the book of Hebrews, we are called to a life race strategy that encourages a strong finish:

“...throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith...so that you will not grow weary and lost heart.” **

In 1 Corinthians, Paul uses racing language to focus us on what we are running for:

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.”***

And so we are called to run with our lives a good race with a strong finish for a prize worth having. Our life running styles are all different, and our life races most likely are run on different routes and courses, but we share a common ultimate goal and a need for “strict training”. We also need to humbly realize we do not run this race alone. If we are to fix our eyes on Jesus, then we acknowledge that he is always present in our race, always available to coach us, to save us from burning out early or saving too much.

By his senior year in high school, my son had trained hard and had developed a successful racing strategy, good enough for a fourth place finish at the state meet. He still had a good kick and still passed a half dozen runners in the final mile of that race. But when asked by a reporter after the race to describe what was going on in his head during that last mile, he said:

Coming around that last time I was just asking God, “Keep me loose, keep me loose,”... Than at a point down here it was, “Make me want it.” He gave me enough strength to pick off some guys and have the race of my life.

And in our own life's running, as we strive to find balance between burning out and saving too much, we, too, long to stay loose and finish strong.  And we, too, can and should cry out - “Lord, make me want it. Give me the race of my life...”

...Yes, of course we should “burn out for God”; I want to, too – to live all my life for Him. But we don't need to burn out for Him like gasoline – explosively, burning everybody around us in the process. We can burn out like charcoal – slowly, steadily, over a long period of time, and good to the last golden marshmallow!             - Anne Ortlund

 

*http://online.wsj.com/news/articles/SB10001424127887324807704579085084130007974

**From Hebrew 12:1-3

***From 1 Corinthians 9:24-25

 States' (Road) Rites

rite /rīt/ noun- a social custom, practice, or conventional act.

Our family moved from New York to Illinois almost 25 years ago. Every year since, we have driven back East to visit relatives and friends. In the early years, with three young children, the 2000 mile plus trip in the minivan involved finding fast food restaurants with play places, hotels with indoor pools and rest stops with child-friendly play areas. Now the trip, though still being made in a minivan, usually consists of only my husband and myself. We stop for the night without a thought about finding the once-mandatory swimming pool. Without children, the dining is slightly more exotic, the trip slightly faster and much quieter, and the driving, overall, well, uneventfully boring...

I just returned from a drive back East and realized that one of the things I enjoy about the recent quieter and leisurely trips is I get to contemplate the “State” part of the “United States of America”. I know – we are only traveling across one third of the the eastern half of the country – six states at most - and only the northern part at that. But there is still a sense of that individuality that each state clings to, that identity that makes Ohio Ohio and New York New York. About 150 years ago this country fought a horrific war over states' rights. The Union – the “United” part of the “United States of America” was preserved, but that longing for individual state identity still comes out, sometimes in the most amusing and inscrutable ways. These little differences from state to state reflect not so much “rights” as “rites” - regional differences in speech patterns (“New Yawk”), food (Can't get a decent bagel outside of metropolitan New York City; New York pizza and Chicago-style deep dish barely resemble one another.), etc. But during this past trip, I was struck by the state identities reflected in just the areas that are car- and driving-related.

Speed limits have always varied from state to state. Illinois, Indiana and Ohio have the same speed limits on the interstate while Pennsylvania, New York and New Jersey share a lower limit (in theory, though not in practice). Pennsylvania used to feel obligated to inform the incoming drivers, by way of a large threatening sign at the state line, as to how much it would cost them for every five miles over the speed limit they were going should drivers get caught speeding. In recent years, they seem to have just given up. Illinois and Indiana are more attached to their toll transponders than some states (I-PASS, i-Zoom), while Ohio, Pennsylvania and New York cut any pretense and just acknowledge they are sucking the money out of your bank account as painlessly as possible (E-ZPASS). Ohio has the most beautiful interstate rest areas (Panera, Starbucks). Indiana does not (McDonalds, random other). In Pennsylvania, I-80 is not a toll road, so there are only restroom areas on the highway, and you take your chances on food at any exit.

One of the most baffling state differences is in the pumping of gas. Illinois, Indiana, Ohio and Pennsylvania allow drivers to pump their own gas, set an automatic shut off device, and come back to the tank when it's full. New Jersey does not allow drivers to pump their own gas. (Why not? Too dangerous?) An attendant comes out and pumps it for them. In New York drivers can pump their own gas, but are required to hold the pump handle the entire time – no automatic shut offs. (To avoid “Oops! I only have ten dollars and accidentally pumped $15...”?) There is a section of I-84 that goes from Pennsylvania, through a small section of New Jersey, and then into New York. Depending on which exit drivers choose to get off at during a few short miles, they can find any one of these three gas pumping options.

I can not leave this topic of state road identities without commenting on the wonderfully terrifying New York State Parkway System. Originally built in the mid-twentieth century as scenic roads for cars to move around the metropolitan New York area, they are unique to New York State. Growing up and learning to drive on Long Island, I was taught that the shortest distance between two points was always a parkway. These roads are often three lane highways with no commercial traffic – just cars – with a posted speed limit of 55 which is generally ignored by all. They are heavily treed, with beautiful stone overpasses and bridges, making for a scenic drive through one of the most heavily populated areas of this country. I personally believe these parkways are also responsible for the reputation New Yorkers have of being crazy and aggressive drivers. These are roads that allow drivers to get around the congested New York City area, at high speeds, with nary a semi or anything bigger than an SUV to put the fear of God into them. In such a driving culture, it is easy to think oneself as a invincible road warrior, someone beyond the usual road courtesies. It is perhaps why there are now lighted signs over these parkways every few miles that remind drivers it is a New York State law to signal when changing lanes. Seriously? What is assumed to be basic driving practice in any other state needs to be on multiple lighted signs in New York? I thought back to how friends in high school joked about how when you drive on the parkway, you get the impression that turn signals were optional equipment on cars, and apparently no one was purchasing that option on Long Island anymore. Yeah, those signs are necessary. As a driver on a New York parkway with Illinois plates on my car, I have a right to know what that car passing me at 75 mph is going to do next. But I also remember that I, too, was once a child of the New York parkway culture and had my own unique ways of navigating the Island, so I cut those crazy drivers some slack. After all, it's their rite.

...The Real-World was a sprawling mess of a book in need of a good editor. I thought then of the narrative order here in the Book-World, our resolved plot lines and the observance of natural justice we took for granted.

“Literature is claimed to be a mirror of the world,” I said, “but the Outlanders are fooling themselves. The Book-World is as orderly as people in the Real-World hope their own world to be – it isn't a mirror, it's an aspiration.”

“Humans,” said Sprockett, “are the most glorious bizarre creatures.”

“Yes,” I said with a smile. “They certainly are.”

               - the “read” Thursday Next, One of Our Thursdays is Missing, Jasper Fforde