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The Race That Turned into War
“I can’t do it! “I cried. “Once again something I’ve lost everything I trained for. Six months of training in the trash!”. Injuries, illnesses and now plantar fasciitis had plagued me from the moment I signed up for my second half marathon. “I can barely get out of bed; I can’t wear my regular shoes and the race is a couple of months away.” I limped out of my car as my friend, running partner and pastor’s wife listened patiently. She smiled warmly and looked me in the eye. “And you’ll let the enemy take that away from you again?” Her words pierced my heart with loving conviction. “Ok,” I…
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Running the Race
When I entered my forties, I determined to give myself a challenge to celebrate the beginning of “the second half of my life,” so I signed up to run a half-marathon. I had no idea how to achieve it, so I researched about it, which introduced me to terms that were like a foreign language: speed work, tempo, and long runs. The local paper advertised a group run every Saturday morning, and I decided to join it. I awakened extra early for the first run and dressed comfortably in my daughter’s PE shorts and t-shirt. I grabbed an old, chunky iPod abandoned in a kitchen drawer along with my son’s…
