Trying to run in the muck and mire

A couple of days ago, one of my sons ran in the regional high school cross country meet.  It’s the meet that he and his team have been training for since June.  They ran through the Texas summer heat every day, rain or shine.  My son even made time for training when we went on vacation.  When the school year started, he was up and running every morning before classes and met with his teammates on the weekend.  They pushed each other and set their goal to win first place at the district meet which hadn’t been done in twenty years.  And that’s exactly what they did.  They were excited and ready to take on Regionals.

Then Hurricane Patricia rolled in.   We didn’t get a direct hit, thankfully, but we did get a lot of rain.  Knowing the course that the boys were going to run, we knew the rain would make it treacherous.  And it did.  There were places on the course that had become mud pits that were calf deep and hills that became muddy slip and slides.

When we arrived at the meet, several other divisions had already run.  What we saw was incredible.  Those runners who had already faced the course, were covered in solid mud from their knees down.  The rest of their bodies were covered in layers of splattered mud from their own feet and those of their competitors.  Several runners lost their shoes and socks in the thick mud.  All of the runners were exhausted from all the effort it took to finish.

It was at that point I was thankful it wasn’t me having to run in all that mess.  My son’s team knew the mud would create a challenge, but they were up for it.  They were happy to be there and were going to face the course and do their best.   Everyone pushed through the mud and made it to the finish line.

Unfortunately, the team did not make it to the state meet, but they had great tales to tell about all the mud and obstacles.  I was proud of them for keeping their shoes on and finishing strong.  They kept going even when the mud got deep.

Their race is so much how life has been lately.  I had a course set out in my mind.  One that I’m somewhat familiar with; I’ve run it before.  I’ve done some training and preparation for it.  But the rain has come and changed it.  It’s now riddled with muck and mire.  Some of the pits seem so deep and the mud so thick, I wonder if I’ll be able to get out.  And the course I thought I would finish quickly, is taking so much longer than I had anticipated.  My legs are tired and my lungs are burning, yet I still have a long way to go.  There’s a part of me that wants to give up, call it quits.  But deep down, I know I would be very disappointed with myself if I did.

So I keep moving forward.  Slower than I want and expending more energy than I planned.  I keep thinking about that finish line.  I know it’s out there.  I want to see it.  I want to cross it.  I know there’s nothing like finishing, breaking through that tape all covered in mud, knowing I gave it all.

Just ask my son…