4 miles and faith

Tonight I’m running another 4 miles through rain, snow, or dark of night (or fair, mild, not the least bit humid weather, thanks?).

 

What on earth does that have to do with faith?  I tripped over it myself.

Faith is the belief that based on what we know we can be comfortably of the nature of that which we don’t know.

Faith is always logical.  Faith is always reasonable.  Faith never, ever seems logical or reasonable to those who do not have it.

 

Huh?

 

Faith is the knowledge that because we know 2 + 2 = 4, then x = 3 if 2 + x = 5.  Every time, all the time, if 2 + x = 5 x will equal 3.

Faith is the knowledge that somehow 150 miles over 3 months translates into 26.2 miles even though you’ve never run that distance before.

From the outside looking in, there is no way that running 3, 4, 10, 15, or 20 miles gets someone ready to run 26.2.  That’s 6 miles further than you’ve ever run before?  How do you know you can finish?

 

Faith.

 

4 + 4 + 4 + 4 + 4 + 4 + 4 + 4 + 4 + 4 + 4 + 4 + 4 + … = 26.2

 

I managed to finish last year.  How do I know I’ll finish this year?  I don’t.  Not yet.  Even with last year’s completion the sting of pulling out in ’05 is still fresh in my mind.  Truthfully I won’t know for sure until I cross the line—anything can happen on the pavement.  A freak blister, a crack in the road and a twisted joint, a rogue vehicle… anything.  I have no control over “anything”.  But I have faith that if I string together enough training runs, increase the distance incrementally, and lower times and weight, somehow that will all mix together to equal 26.2.

And for all intents and purposes, right now, at the Church of the Holy Marathon, the finish line is heaven.

That was a race well run, good and faithful servant.  Have some Gatorade, a banana, and a cookie.