The marathon of life
In the lead up to the marathon as I tapered and experienced numerous emotions and feelings during that time, I rested in the knowledge that despite how I felt at any given time I had done the training. Sometimes we can rely too heavily on our feelings causing us to be blinded to what we know to be true. As I ran and faced the disappointment of the race, I was overcome with gratitude that it was only a missed target for one race and that it would easily pass. I knew full well I remain a runner and will run other races, and that even though I desperately wanted to achieve a time for myself, I didn’t actually need to do anything in that race to prove anything to the one who made me. I know that I am created by God, made in His image, made to be his daughter. He gives me an assurance that even if I cannot feel him, I can know the truths of who He is and that He is unchanging. He is the same yesterday, today and forever. It doesn’t matter how much my emotions change He is good and is Jehovah Shammah – present with me. He will never leave me or forsake me. He is with me in failings and disappointments in the same way that He is with me in success and enjoyment. He is with me in heart break and pain in the same way that He is with me in delight and celebration. That’s not to say we shouldn’t set ourselves targets and goals and strive to meet them. Absolutely we should. We were created that way. But if those targets and goals are where our identity comes from, we will sadly be disappointed. Not every goal will be reached. But we have the opportunity to get our identity from the one who created our very being. We have opportunity to understand why He created us. To realise His ridiculously outrageous love for us. To walk with Him. As I ran and contemplated those cheering me on, I thought to the bigger marathon that is life. I thought of the massive difference between those supporters who didn’t know me and those that did. And I thought of those that cheer me on in my life. I am so grateful that I have people willing to invest in me, ask difficult questions, keep me accountable, ensuring I am walking closely with God and cheering me on. And as for the London… it will always have a place in my heart. My dad did his 17th London 9 years ago when he was 60 saying it was his last. He couldn’t resist the pull to do another final one being his 18th when he turned 65. Next year he is 70 and yet again captivated by the magic of his favourite marathon has set about planning his 19th London to celebrate! He says it’s his last but I can already hear him thinking deep down that 19 won’t be a round number.
This article was reproduced by with permission from author, [Liz] and was originally published at: lizfell.wordpress.com 27.04.18