In life, sometimes you thought you have picked the best
race. The kind of race you believed to be “your race”. The route was a long
stretch of pavement which did not include any uphill or downhill course. There were
water stations every two kilometers. Cheerers were every corner to uplift your
spirit. The weather appeared lovely. Every now and then you would run past darling
kids with chocolates, chips, and banana to offer. Of course, how could you say
no to them? You fellow runners were doing pretty well too. Everyone gave the
impression of being kind and nice. There was no dreaded cut off time. Plus this
particular race was unique. Although the route was a long stretch of pavement, there
were connecting roads going right which all lead to the finish line. You could always turn right anytime. One of a kind, right?
Everything was in place; smooth-sailing. Indeed you
thought you were having the best race of our life until somewhere along the
route you were taken aback. The weather changed abruptly; you realized you were
tramping a rough road with steep slopes; going up was close to impossible;
water stations were nowhere to be found. You tried hard to push but exhaustion
got the better of you. Finally you thought hit the wall. You tried your
best to go on and think of happy thoughts. Remember what Peter Pan said, “happy
thoughts and a little bit of pixie dust make one fly’. You continued to run and
think of happy thoughts until all you could think of was literally “HAPPY
THOUGHTS”. You wanted to give up; flag down an ambulance or simply stop
somewhere and hope that the marshals would sweep you. But the fighter persona
in you asserted to continue running because you wanted to see what was beyond
everything. However, you realized it was not what you wanted anymore. You
thought there are other races to vanquish; there are other places to
discover. Finally, you decided it was high time to turn right.
DNF? No. I certainly did finish the race. My time chip
recorded 2,590 hours. Yes, three years! It may not be as long compared
to others who recorded 20 or more years. But hey, when I race I compete with no
one but myself. I set my own pace. I start slow and once I have gotten the hang
of it I add speed. That is how I do it. Sure, pacers help me speed up but I
always believe that my race is mine alone. Advices form the veteran runners are
appreciated. However please understand that it is my race. I listen to my own
body. It tells me when to slow down, speed up or even when to stop.
To organizers of
the previous race, fellow runners, everyone, it was one beautiful race. Three
years is a mean feat! Thank you!
Come June, I will join a new race. I somehow feel I lack
training but I am hoping to learn along the way. I am nervous. I have a very
long list of what-ifs. See, I have no idea of what kind of race it will be. This
time though, I decided to have a pacer. Although He paced me in my last race, I
was just a little bit stubborn to listen. I am glad though that He is very patient
and sticks with me no matter how mulish I am. I am not crossing my finger in
this race but I am surrendering everything to Him.
I am not wishing for an easy race but I am praying for a
forgiving, understanding, and loving heart so that I will continue to see
beauty and find joy in little things. I also pray for courageous and brave
heart that nothing would scare me – not even the fear of the unknown. And most
importantly, I plead for a humble heart that is able to surrender everything to
Him.
“A warrior knows when a battle is worth fighting. He
bases his decisions on inspiration and faith.” – Paulo Coelho, Warrior of the
Light, A Manual
