I set out for a different route today. I didn’t want to run the same way that I had on Friday or Saturday. I needed new.
New scenery. A new challenge.
Nursing a sore hamstring that I pulled running sprints about three weeks ago, my mind told me not to push it too much today. My spirit said, “Stop being a baby.”
Rage against the dying of the light. Do not go gentle into that good night.
I’m tired of knowing my limitations. I’d rather punch them in the neck. I don’t want to get older. I want to get better.
Fend off complacency.
Paul buffeted his body. That’s what I’m talking about.
I cross the big road. Right past the Catholic church, cemetery, and elementary school. By this time I’m finally awake enough to worship the Creator, noticing the beauty in His creation and the precision with which he made us, according to His perfect will.
I smile. It’s good to be here.
Where the Catholic church and cemetery meet, just before you get to the schoolyard the road begins to slope downward. If you follow it all the way, it will lead right down to the riverbank.
I pick up the scent of citrus in full bloom and follow it, breathing deeply…passing home after home after home, until I reach more of a bend than a fork. The main road continues to the left and a smaller road sneaks out to the right with a quaint little bridge.
I choose right, in more ways than one.
I’m tired of running downhill. I’m tired of playing it safe. I’m tired of nursing a sore hamstring.
Running downhill is for lazy people. It’s for people who want to pat themselves on the back about how great their pace was. It’s for shortsighted people who haven’t thought enough ahead to realize that in order to get back home, they’ve got to run uphill. Those who have thought it through, normally just walk.
We’ve got a saying in our house: We don’t do what’s easy, just because it’s the easy thing to do. We’ve never made decisions based on what’s easy. I don’t want to start now.
The easy thing to do is run downhill and walk back up.
Running downhill is easy, and the truth is that most of us have been doing it for some time. Coasting.
We live comfortable lives that don’t ever stretch our horizons. We play it safe. We almost never try to go from 1st to home on a ground ball to right field. We don’t steal third because we’re afraid we’ll get caught.
We never stick our neck out because it just might get cut off.
We never set out to run uphill.
Fear of failure only serves to kill ambition. All the greats run uphill. |Tweet This|
They swim upstream. They go against the grain.
John the Baptist did.
I’m tired of punting on fourth down because that’s what everybody else does. Saturday, when it’s fourth and four on the wrong side of the 50, I want to go for it. Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego did.
I’m tired of running downhill. I’m done with it. I’m stepping out on a limb. It might break and the fall might hurt, but I’m willing to take that chance.
My path uphill, my limb..may not seem like much to you, but it is to me.
Want to know what it is? My uphill battle. Come back tomorrow, and I’ll let you know.
But until then, I challenge you to think long and hard about how you’ve been running downhill. Decide today that you’re going to take that little road with the bridge that starts climbing back up.
Don’t walk. Run uphill. Rage against the dying of the light. Do not go gentle into that good night.