The Ultimate Race

There are some times when I just understand why I run.
Today was one of them. I was scheduled for a 7 mile run today in my training for the Gate River on the 8th. Today's mileage was the last big run before the actual 15k. Needless to say, this week I've been looking forward to it, just because for about 70 minutes I'd have nothing else to worry about except my run. Well, I thought about doing it yesterday since it was so sunny, but I went ahead and just did the scheduled 4 thinking I would, no matter what,I'd run 7 miles today. I woke up this morning still thinking I would, but then the weather was gray and overcast and at some point it actually flittered snow. So of course the sane person inside of me said, don't worry about running, just go to the gym and use the treadmill and lift a little. Well, the runner inside of me said that wouldn't do.
So, I braved it. I bundled up, set my ipod to my running playlist (my trainer this time) and headed out to the boulevard and ran. I told myself I would at least run for an hour, maybe not all seven miles, but 6 would be good enough. Then I started running and my shins were killing me so I decided that since I was looping through the park and doing some hill work, 5 miles would be enough. Now, I stay at a fairly decent 10 min/mile pace, which is perfectly fine with me because I'll never win my races, but even though I run just to run, I still try my best and push myself, even when I'm hurting. So, I figured at my pace, and with my heart rate beating a a great level of 165, I was having a wonderful run. Who needed 7 miles?
Then I realized, I did. Today was a 7 mile day and I wanted to conquer it. I knew I could, there was no doubt about it, I just had to push my body a little bit more, even if it hurt some. My music was so powerful today that it just kept pushing me and something about running 7 miles because I could was amazing. Why should I stop at 5, or even 6 for that matter when it was so close to the goal? I started thinking about what God tells us in 2 Corinthians chapter 9:
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. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.

I look at these words and I see the runner inside of me. I have a race in two weeks and I've been training for two months. Strict training... I've changed a few days around but I've still never missed the mileage I'm supposed to be doing. Even though I can train as hard as I can push myself, I know that I won't win, but I will get a medal; yet it is a medal that won't last. I can't take that to heaven with me, and it probably won't even go through the detector at the airport when I head home. So I won't even be able to wear it. But that doesn't matter because what does is the fact that I trained and beat my body to finish the race. To keep running towards a prize even if I'll never get it. To cross that line and say I've done it. All my training comes up to that one moment where I take one last step and pass under the time clock to all the cheering. That's the way my faith should be. I'm running in this life and I'll probably never win in the world, but I still have to run. I still have to sing, to read God's word, to train myself to fight off satan everyday. With all my perseverance people will see and they will join in my run.
It'll be just like a race except we'll all be crossing the finish line at the same time. No time clock marking our progress, just our heavenly trainer cheering us on as we run into his arms waiting to congratulate us.