Tri-ing again.

It’s painfully vicious. There’s always a good chance of getting kicked in the face. One feels seasick, literally, from the mess and confusion of it all. There’s the danger of getting stung and eternally scarred by jellyfish. There’s the risk of getting into an accident on wheels, whether it’s your fault or not. There’s the heat to beat, the dirt to stick through, the cling of sweat to endure.

It’s dirty, through and through.

So why it captivates me, completely eludes me.

Triathlon, that is.

It’s the unfinished race, still stuck in my mind, playing itself over and over in my head.

One and a half years ago on that fateful day, I ripped my hamstring and fractured my hip while overtraining on my bike for a sprint-distance triathlon. A week before race day, I was reduced to a maimed little lady hobbling on one leg. I never got to start, much less finish the race I trained for.

Somehow, something within me just couldn’t reconcile this.

Over and over, I would dream of myself starting a race and never finishing it. I would be running and running but never reaching the finish line, or starting a race and getting disqualified, or reaching the starting line late and missing the race altogether. I would always awaken from the dream, feeling disappointed, disgruntled and disturbed.

I suppose, a large amount of guilt marred the walls of my heart. More than disappointment, was the feeling of grieving God through my own pride and self-sufficiency back then.

It’s been one and a half years since I quit racing. I wondered if I might ever go back to it again. After all, since work started, I have hardly had any time to exercise, much less train.

But it amazes me, how true it is when they say, God gives one supernatural strength when we trust in Him.

The injury totally changed my perspectives. I stopped being glued to a training regime. I stopped taking advice from everyone all over the place. I stopped living my life like a slave to the sport and my expectations.

Since I learnt to let go of what I thought was so important to me, I started to enjoy exercise, I started to listen to and honour my own body, I started to connect with God and live my life with God, family, friends and work above the sport.

Ever since I did so, I found myself training less and performing better (relative to the amount of time spent training). I found myself learning the beauty of humility. I found myself leading a far more balanced and fulfilled life.

That day when someone wanted to sponsor me for this race, I cried because I didn’t realize how much finishing the race meant to me. And I didn’t realize how much God knows how much certain things mean to us.

More than just earning another medal or obtaining another achievement, I simply needed to reconcile that spiritual metaphor of finishing the race of life with myself, and find redemption in those areas I had fallen in previously. I needed to know, that I would finish the race and journey of life strong, too. I needed to know, that whatever God had started within me, He would surely bring to completion.

Tomorrow is the race. 

I’m just going to have a good time.

Eyes on God. 

 

However, I consider my life worth nothing to me,

if only I may finish the race and complete the task God has given me-

-the task of testifying to the gospel of God’s grace.

-Acts 20:24