A run, a race, and a footstep

Running. I guess that's my thing. Or, at least one of them. This is a snapshot of my life.
As far as I know I've always been a runner. Since I was a little twerp always running around the yard or in the store away from my parents. You'd catch me running from my brother in the house growing up through the years, and low and behold as a tiny blonde two year old running, tripping, and breaking my arm. (Not only am I a runner since birth, but a klutz as well.)

Junior high was really when I got my start in running. It was a new era for me and I wanted to try out everything. I started track with a little apprehension because honestly, who enjoys running? At least that was the thought in my head. But I tried it out anyway, and running turned out to be something I was good at. I was fast, I enjoyed it, and it was something in which I only depended on myself, my strength, and how hard I could push myself. There was one other fuel though, and that was my God. I remember race days like they were yesterday. The feel of crawling into the blocks, the anticipation in my muscles, the sound of the gun, and the feel of the wind as I pushed. I also remember that before every race, rather it was a lone one or a relay where I had teammates, I said a little prayer. It was never for a win (ok... so in my adolescent that's probably a lie. I'm sure I prayed for a win one, two, maybe a few times.) For the most part though, it was that I could make it. That I could run with the wind (or against it) and cross that finish line. I wanted to finish so bad. Yes, before the other girls would have been wonderful, but it was the thrill of knowing I, me, I could cross that finish line because of the strength inside of me. That strength was such an amazing feeling because I never threw it up after the race. Maybe felt a little dizzy and definitely felt like throwing up, but it never came. Because I held it all inside. That feeling was my power, my push, my strength to run. And it was exhilarating.
I quit track my junior year of high school for a job. I think it was probably the single most stupid mistake I've ever made. I'm not saying I would've gone on to be a star or a college athlete (though I would've loved too) but I just quite running. I racked up the medals and ribbons (most just participant ones) in the years prior and they were wonderful feelings of finishing, but somehow I let that feeling, that joy of running be overpowered by the world. The need for a job, for finances instead of letting my God push me in something that I could use to honor him. Sure, life went on and God shined in other areas, but I sometimes wondered just what could've happened had I not chosen to quit. I'm not a quitter and save for this one time, I won't ever do it again.
I decided to fix that problem. Resolve my quitting. Just this past year I finally picked up running again. Three and half years (never too late) and the feeling is back. One of my goals in life is to run a marathon and I figure I had to start somewhere so why not a half? I signed up with a bunch of friends and starting pushing myself again. Something had sparked in me and I found running once more. It was like, all along it had never left my soul because I would occasionally go out and run, or find a treadmill, but it was never the same. There was something deeper in side of me. Whispering, telling me to just go, just feel the wind, but I think I was just a little scared to pick it up. Tostart completely over. I knew that as a growing women I had lost my speed, but eventually it wasn't about that anymore. I never thought in my life I could run distance, heck, I hated, hated the mile warm-up before practice!. but I decided, I heard that that was what I was supposed to go for. I was supposed to go for the distance. Just running. Here I was training for 13.1 miles.
Through the strength of God I found those miles and completed my first half-marathon last May. It was an amazing 2 hours and 19 minutes. And the moment I crossed the finish line, well, let's just say it made up for the single most stupid mistake I ever made. It was as if God was speaking to me again saying, "Caitlin running is in your soul because I placed it there. Running parallels your life and if you keep running, keep 'going the distance' (like Rocky!) I'll bless you. It's hard to explain sometimes, and even now as I write, I can't fully place it but running is just one of those things where I know God exists. He is the strong tower of my legs, the breath of my lungs, the endurance of a mile, the strength in which I take a step, and the finish line to my race. He carries me when I run. He is the runner inside of me. And I know that anytime I am out there on the pavement, the sand, the trail, in the sun or rain, he is right beside me and in me running that same race. And that's why I run now; why I have the racing bug. Be it a simple 5K, or a bridge run, or even the Tour de Pain (3 races, 24 hours) that I'm doing on a whim tomorrow, I still race. It isn't about the free t-shirt, or the medals any more (though those are very nice reminders of what I finished) it's about the perseverance and it's about winning. I'm sure if I pushed my self harder in my training I could top out, place a few times but to me, running is about running. It's about just taking the step.
"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."
-Hebrews 12:1-3

And I challenge anyone who says they can't run, to take a step with me. Because taking a step with me is being carried by God.

When I qualify and finish the Boston Marathon in my life, I'm tattooing this verse id on my calf.