I set out on my Sunday run with a few extra layers of clothing to defend my body from the frigid lake winds.
Sunday’s run was particularly inspiring for a few reasons. The sky was blue, and the sun was shining bright. Having attended church that morning, and with Thanksgiving just around the corner, my mind was full of reflective thoughts. The peaceful surroundings and the steady running pace proved to be just what I needed to sort through my cluttered brain.
I ran across the snow covered road, taking note of the footprints (both human and animal) marked on the ground. In the final stretch of my jog, the sun began to set. It lined up perfectly with my path, creating a light far too intense to stare at. It was quite remarkable.
I ran toward the light, and my pace picked up without thought — I was inspired by the awe of it all.
As I continued to run, the light began to dim and my body began to tire. This, I thought, was like life. When initially inspired by something we see, hear or experience, we tend to pick up our games a bit. We run as hard as we can toward the light, excited and confident that nothing will slow us down. But, the truth is, too often we do slow down. The inspiration dims and we grow tired, many times without realizing it.
With that thought and the disappearing sun, I decided to give it my all, despite my weakened state. I kicked it into high gear and finished the journey with all I had. While I felt the sting of the cold air in my lungs and the burning in my legs, I realized running through that lesson was a lot easier than applying it in real life — that’s the hard stuff, but it’s also the stuff that matters.
Turns out I don’t need to run a race to learn a life lesson.