Faith is the quiet cousin of courage.
~Judith Hanson Lasater
It was an unusually frigid January morning when my friends and I lined up for the Mobile Marathon. I hopped up and down in nervous excitement as the wind whipped through my multiple layers of clothes, double checking my iPod, ear buds, gel packs and water bottle. Months of training had culminated in this moment. Had I put in enough time and pushed myself hard enough? Could I finish the grueling 26.2 miles?
In my left hand, I clutched 13 index cards. Thirteen more cards were in my jacket pocket. I had read about this idea in a running magazine. I had written one Bible verse per card, each beginning with a different letter of the alphabet. Twenty-six letters in the alphabet equaled 26 miles in the marathon. The plan was to meditate on a verse for each mile of the race from A to Z.
The starting gun went off, and we began to run at a slow pace.
“What’s your first verse?” asked my friend Lisa, jogging beside me.
I fumbled with the cards in my gloved hand and read, “Ask and it will be given unto you.” With my eyes on the card in my hand, I didn’t see the orange cone covering a hole in the road. Before I could stop, I had fallen over the cone and was on the asphalt, my Bible verse cards strewn across the pavement!
This was not the first time I had found myself on the ground over the past 15 years of running. Cones, curbs and cracks in the sidewalk have caused me to tumble many times. Although I’ve been fortunate not to have any serious injuries, the battered ribs and twisted ankles have been aggravating, interrupting my training and daily life.
Often, decisions that seem insignificant at the time can ruin my training run or race: eating an extra helping of almond chicken at the Chinese restaurant the night before my marathon; wearing new shorts that rub in the wrong places; walking through wet grass to get to the starting line so that my shoes and socks are wet for the race. And, of course, not watching for the orange cones in the road.
Those cones have come to represent the small problems in life that often throw me off course. A minor irritation, such as a long wait for customer service or someone cutting me off in traffic, can cause my blood to boil and ruin my day. Just like the crack in the sidewalk that causes me to trip, these annoyances can become huge if I’m not careful.
But often in running and in life, the little things can make a positive difference. During the last few miles of a Disney marathon when I was down to my last bit of energy, I heard someone call my name from the crowd of onlookers. I turned, confused, wondering if someone I knew was there. Then I remembered that my name was printed on my race bib. I felt a tiny rush of adrenaline that pushed me through those last miles. I will always be grateful to that unknown cheerleader!
I’ve learned to look for and appreciate the small gestures that remind me that a Higher Power is watching out for me. It might be a phone call that comes just when I need it, a child’s hand in mine, or my cat curling up in my lap after a long day at work. They give me the boost I need to keep going. Sweet moments like these bring a layer of joy and depth to my life when I take the time to look for them.
On that bitterly cold morning in Mobile, I scrambled for my Bible verse cards, dusted myself off and continued the marathon, reading my verses each mile while keeping one eye on the road. I persevered to the final mile — “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down, for today I must remain at your house.” Once again, the little things got me through.
— Millicent Flake —