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I remember waking up in the middle of the night once, my heart heavy with a specific petition. I prayed, “Lord, I want to be able to run in a marathon.” Almost instantly, I felt the Holy Spirit whisper back to me: *“You are. It’s called life.”* I had to laugh. It was so true, but at that moment, I had a very literal race on my mind.
The path to the starting line of the Hood to Coast Relay wasn’t easy. We had recently returned from a missions trip to Nepal, which is a painful story for another time, but I had contracted cholera while we were there. It was terrifying; I truly almost died. It followed a season where I had battled malaria in my throat after a trip to Ghana. I’ve never run such a high fever in my life as I did back then, and though the Lord healed me, my body was weary.
But I had signed up for this relay, and I wanted it so badly. It was a bucket-list dream. I went through the rounds of vaccines and blood tests, but I wasn’t quite fully recovered from the cholera. My doctor gave me a strict warning: "Nancy, you cannot run if you have a fever." When I spoke to our coach, she looked at me with concern and asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I told her, “As long as my body is healthy, I’m in.” I asked if we were being timed, and she told me the only goal was to finish. I looked her in the eye and said, “Well, if I have to crawl across that finish line, I will finish.”
The training was a challenge, to say the least. There were days when those recurring symptoms would flare up, and I’d feel like I had cholera all over again. I didn’t say anything to the team because I was so determined. I would go home after a 6K practice run feeling incredibly sick, but I kept my eyes on the goal. I had originally hoped to run with my *Steps to Joy* piano students, but instead, I joined a wonderful team of women from a local church.
I started praying specifically about my "legs"—the sections of the race I’d have to run. I asked the Lord if I could please avoid the scorching heat of the midday sun or the pitch black of the middle of the night. Do you know what He gave me? I got to run as the sun was coming up. It was a 6.8-mile stretch of pure glory.
At 61 years old, I wasn't the youngest person on the pavement, but I felt so much energy and so much *life*. I still have the bib I wore on my shirt that day. It wasn’t about money or accolades; it was about the experience. When we finally reached the beach and they placed those medals around our necks, the excitement was overwhelming.
In that moment, I couldn't help but think about heaven. I thought about what it will feel like to finish this long marathon of life, to finally see Jesus, and to fall down before Him. It is so amazing how present the King of Kings was in that race.
I think about you often, and I pray for you in the marathon you are running daily. I pray that you are running it with Jesus and not trying to do it on your own. Relying on Him isn't a sign of weakness; it’s where our power comes from. Scripture tells us that His strength is made perfect in our weakness. I love that promise. When you feel like you can't do it, or when someone tells you "you can't," you are actually in the perfect place. It allows the Lord to step in. It’s a wonderful tradeoff.
When the race was over and I sat there on the sand, I was just so grateful. Grateful for the finish line, but even more grateful to the Lord for His faithfulness in saving my life. He is so good.
