Bart Yasso, the motivational speaker who was, two nights earlier, referred to as "the Nelson Mandela of American running", finished by thinking of others.
"What are his problems, compared to the problems of the people watching the race, the poor South African children who live in villages where clean water is a luxury, where a pair of shoes is precious. He thinks of Paul Martin and his prosthetic leg. He thinks of Carri Lyons in Utah and her son she had heard from heaven, and of all the people who have approached him at this and other races and that makes his pain lessen, and it makes him wonder, yet again, how they could be inspired by him?" (p. 122).
Unlike Yasso, running for me is relatively easy. Yes, I struggle with lung pain and asthma. Yes, the outcome of a run is unpredictable. Some days the lungs behave; some days they don't. Statistics and journaling do not provide many clues as to what factors affect my ability to breathe. Yet even for me running is relatively easy -- though it doesn't feel that way in the middle of a race.
Like mile two of yesterday's Race Against Breast Cancer 5K. First, I told myself that I always struggle at mile two. Then I remembered the purpose of the race. . .raising funds for breast cancer research. And that reminded me of a lady for whom our church and I have been praying. She has been battling cancer as long as I have lived in Broadway; that's at least 2 1/2 years. I thought of her most recent hospital stay, and of her young children and husband managing without her, again and again. I thought about her most recent online journal entry--one in which she named all the ways she had been blessed. I willed myself to run as strong as she is.
I finished the race. And I finished strong. Thank you, Bart Yasso; thank you, Andrea Lohr.
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