[the reason for my title and my blog]

I became a runner unintentionally. I ran high school cross country with low expectations in the fall of 2003 and have yet to truly stop. It pushed me beyond what I thought was physically possible. It taught me there are no guarentees in this world - one of the most painful but life-changing lessons I've ever learned - and it later became the foundation of how I would forever look at life.

I ran my freshman year of college to ward off the "freshmen 15". I ran the next year to stay in shape. And then it started becoming my escape. My alone time. My way of thinking through things. Of over-analyzing most everything. Of releasing frustration. Of brainstorming and solving problems. Of relaxation. That last one is weird to most people. I know. But it really is. My three-mile sprints have turned into longer and slower runs where my mind is free to wander, and some of my best ideas have come on these runs.

And you know, I think all of life is like a race. There are uphills. There are downhills. There are curves you don't expect. There are times when you feel like you are flying, and there are others when your legs go numb. When the only thing carrying you on is your heart and internal will not to quit. Everyone gets a set of starting blocks. Everyone has a finish line, and we take nothing with us when we go.

But what about the miles in between? What about the minutes and hours and days and years that make up this thing called life? We are all but a grain in the sands of time, but what makes our grains count? What makes our miles matter? Do we arrive at the finish lines with legs absolutely numb from running beyond our perceived limits, or do we arrive barely short of breath and hardly tired?

That's what this blog is about. My miles in between. My attempt to make sense of the time, talents, passions, dreams and faith I've been granted. I've always felt like I'm seen as this perfect person too, but I'm far from that. I've got struggles. I've got failures. I've made dumb choices. I've got invisible scars. Yet despite all the times I've failed to truly live a life worthy of the calling I have received (Ephesians 4:1), I know the most important thing to do is to not give up, to keep running, to keep serving God and to keep trusting Him for the next stretch in the course of life, no matter what it brings.

Hebrews 12:1-2 says, " . . . let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith. . . " and it's one of my favorite verses. Life is a race. Heaven is our finish line. And God knows the course isn't easy, but He never asked us to run it with perfection. Only perserverance.

So how will we live our miles? Slowly plodding along, taking it easy and not wanting to push ourselves beyond our perceived limits or leaving everything we've got out on the course? Will we trust that God wants and is going to carry us when our legs go numb, or will we save our energy, our talents and our potential because it's easier. It's easier than believing in the impossible. It's more comfortable than letting Him have control of our lives.

We've all been given a race to run in this life, and I've definitely gotten off track. I've taken my own path. I've tried to run dependent on my own efforts, my own ideas and my own strength. Sometimes I'm stumbling. Sometimes I'm sprinting, but over and over again I've been brought back to the foot of the cross, and I pray that I would continue to be broken there and allow God to work beyond my perceived limits of myself. My biggest prayer is that I will be able to cross the final finish line and say, "I've got nothing left Lord. I used everything you gave me." And by God's grace, I pray that the miles in between would be lived for that finish.