"I can do everything through Him who gives me strength." - Phil. 4:13
Living a life that has a relationship with Jesus Christ is often referred to as a walk. This past weekend, I went for a run with Him.
Years ago, my wife Angie and I had participated in all kinds of endurance events. There were sprint triathlons, marathons, ultra-marathons and even a few Ironman triathlons. I began doing these events for a number of reasons. But those reasons were all about me. What was I capable of? I could do whatever I set my mind to. The problem with that was at a number of events, when I decided that I had gone far enough, I would quit. I'd get off my bike, or I would just start walking. Sometimes I would just wait by the side of the road until one of the support vehicles came by to take me to the finish line. After a few of these D.N.F.s (Did Not Finish), it became easier and easier to quit. After all, I was just running for me. The only person I was letting down was myself. And at times, I didn't like myself all that much. Afterall, I was the one that decided not to train the right way, even though I knew there was going to be a race coming up. You've probably heard the expression, "failing to prepare, is preparing to fail." That was me. Sometimes I think I almost did it on purpose because I felt like such a loser that I would set myself up, knowing that I wasn't going to be able to finish.
Finally, after a few of these negative racing experiences, I decided to give it up completely. Not only wasn't I going to race anymore, but I wasn't even going to exercise. We owned a gym. I was a personal trainer. Our lives had revolved around health and fitness for years. But I threw in the towel. When I decided that I wasn't going to work out, I ate everything in sight. Over the next year I had put on almost 50 pounds. The people at the pizza place knew me so well that when I would call and say, "Hi. It's Chuck," they would basically just hang up the phone and half an hour later would be knocking on my door. Soon after this, I began my relationship with Christ, even though I sure wasn't treating my body like a temple.
One of the strange things about all of this was that my wife continued to race. Because she is legally-blind, it was my responsibility to drive her to all of the events. Usually, I would hang out with her at the start line and then go sleep in my car until I thought she would be getting close to finishing. I'd meet her at the finish line, get back in the car and drive home. I can't tell you how many times I would be standing around with her when somebody would come up to us, look me straight in the eye and say, "Wow. You sure put on a lot of weight." Now really. On what planet do you think you are on where this is ever an appropriate thing to say to somebody? What was I supposed to say to that? "Um...yeah. I guess I did."
The thing is, the races weren't the only times people would say that to me. There were very few days that went by when I didn't hear it from somebody. Finally when I had reached maximum density, I decided I would try working out again. We had closed our gym, so I decided to try some of the other ones around town. I kid you not when I tell you that there were times I would be running on a treadmill, with my headphones on, only to have somebody come stand in front of me and just look at me until I took my headphones off to say hello. And what would they say? "Wow. You look like you put on a lot of weight." Ugh.
That was it. I found a personal training studio, and for Christmas my wife got me some sessions with a trainer. It was great. I would work out, and nobody else was around. After a few sessions, and starting to see some results, I got the courage up to go to a small gym that had just opened. I was there everyday. My wife was a huge support, and always made sure that we ate healthy and I had time to get my workout in.
Over the course of the past two years, I have gotten most of the weight off, and even put on some extra muscle that I didn't have before. I don't have to listen to people call me fat anymore, although there are still people that remember me from way back when I weighed about 150lbs. that say I got bigger, but that is only on a very rare occassion. During the summer my wife was given permission to start racing again after dealing with congestive heart failure for the past year. I decided that I would try to race again too. No more sitting in the car on race-day.
This past Sunday was the beginning of our road back to the Ironman. It was a half-marathon (13.1 miles) here in Fort Lauderdale. Before the race, I had listened to a clip on my phone from the movie "Facing the Giants." It was the scene known as the Death Crawl. If you have seen the movie you know exactly what I am talking about. If not, I highly recommend it. It basically says don't quit. Give it all you've got. Give God all that you have and do your best. Just don't quit. When we were at the starting line, my wife gave me a kiss and said, "Don't quit. You'll be angry with yourself if you do."
Around the 11 mile mark, I wanted to walk it in. I knew I would finish the race, but I wanted to give up on my goal of going under 2 hours. I kept thinking about what Angie had said. What the scene in the movie was saying. If it was just me running, I would have quit. After all, it hurt. I'm not a thin little guy that floats with every step. I lumber and pound my way through it. But this time it was different. This was the first time that I had raced with God right there alongside me. Even if I didn't have the strength to want to continue, He had it for me. It wasn't just about me running this time. It was also about showing myself, and even some of the people that have seen the impact He has made in my life, that with Him we can do anything.
I crossed the finish line with some time to spare. When it was over, it was hard not to just drop down and start crying. It wasn't about me. It was just another example of God's power and strength that brought me back, not just to the finish line, but more importantly, to the starting line.
Living a life that has a relationship with Jesus Christ is often referred to as a walk. This past weekend, I went for a run with Him.
Years ago, my wife Angie and I had participated in all kinds of endurance events. There were sprint triathlons, marathons, ultra-marathons and even a few Ironman triathlons. I began doing these events for a number of reasons. But those reasons were all about me. What was I capable of? I could do whatever I set my mind to. The problem with that was at a number of events, when I decided that I had gone far enough, I would quit. I'd get off my bike, or I would just start walking. Sometimes I would just wait by the side of the road until one of the support vehicles came by to take me to the finish line. After a few of these D.N.F.s (Did Not Finish), it became easier and easier to quit. After all, I was just running for me. The only person I was letting down was myself. And at times, I didn't like myself all that much. Afterall, I was the one that decided not to train the right way, even though I knew there was going to be a race coming up. You've probably heard the expression, "failing to prepare, is preparing to fail." That was me. Sometimes I think I almost did it on purpose because I felt like such a loser that I would set myself up, knowing that I wasn't going to be able to finish.
Finally, after a few of these negative racing experiences, I decided to give it up completely. Not only wasn't I going to race anymore, but I wasn't even going to exercise. We owned a gym. I was a personal trainer. Our lives had revolved around health and fitness for years. But I threw in the towel. When I decided that I wasn't going to work out, I ate everything in sight. Over the next year I had put on almost 50 pounds. The people at the pizza place knew me so well that when I would call and say, "Hi. It's Chuck," they would basically just hang up the phone and half an hour later would be knocking on my door. Soon after this, I began my relationship with Christ, even though I sure wasn't treating my body like a temple.
One of the strange things about all of this was that my wife continued to race. Because she is legally-blind, it was my responsibility to drive her to all of the events. Usually, I would hang out with her at the start line and then go sleep in my car until I thought she would be getting close to finishing. I'd meet her at the finish line, get back in the car and drive home. I can't tell you how many times I would be standing around with her when somebody would come up to us, look me straight in the eye and say, "Wow. You sure put on a lot of weight." Now really. On what planet do you think you are on where this is ever an appropriate thing to say to somebody? What was I supposed to say to that? "Um...yeah. I guess I did."
The thing is, the races weren't the only times people would say that to me. There were very few days that went by when I didn't hear it from somebody. Finally when I had reached maximum density, I decided I would try working out again. We had closed our gym, so I decided to try some of the other ones around town. I kid you not when I tell you that there were times I would be running on a treadmill, with my headphones on, only to have somebody come stand in front of me and just look at me until I took my headphones off to say hello. And what would they say? "Wow. You look like you put on a lot of weight." Ugh.
That was it. I found a personal training studio, and for Christmas my wife got me some sessions with a trainer. It was great. I would work out, and nobody else was around. After a few sessions, and starting to see some results, I got the courage up to go to a small gym that had just opened. I was there everyday. My wife was a huge support, and always made sure that we ate healthy and I had time to get my workout in.
Over the course of the past two years, I have gotten most of the weight off, and even put on some extra muscle that I didn't have before. I don't have to listen to people call me fat anymore, although there are still people that remember me from way back when I weighed about 150lbs. that say I got bigger, but that is only on a very rare occassion. During the summer my wife was given permission to start racing again after dealing with congestive heart failure for the past year. I decided that I would try to race again too. No more sitting in the car on race-day.
This past Sunday was the beginning of our road back to the Ironman. It was a half-marathon (13.1 miles) here in Fort Lauderdale. Before the race, I had listened to a clip on my phone from the movie "Facing the Giants." It was the scene known as the Death Crawl. If you have seen the movie you know exactly what I am talking about. If not, I highly recommend it. It basically says don't quit. Give it all you've got. Give God all that you have and do your best. Just don't quit. When we were at the starting line, my wife gave me a kiss and said, "Don't quit. You'll be angry with yourself if you do."
Around the 11 mile mark, I wanted to walk it in. I knew I would finish the race, but I wanted to give up on my goal of going under 2 hours. I kept thinking about what Angie had said. What the scene in the movie was saying. If it was just me running, I would have quit. After all, it hurt. I'm not a thin little guy that floats with every step. I lumber and pound my way through it. But this time it was different. This was the first time that I had raced with God right there alongside me. Even if I didn't have the strength to want to continue, He had it for me. It wasn't just about me running this time. It was also about showing myself, and even some of the people that have seen the impact He has made in my life, that with Him we can do anything.
I crossed the finish line with some time to spare. When it was over, it was hard not to just drop down and start crying. It wasn't about me. It was just another example of God's power and strength that brought me back, not just to the finish line, but more importantly, to the starting line.
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