Finishing Strong

Two more weeks of classes this semester! This has been the hardest one I've had since going back to school. Six classes, only two of which I was truly interested in (although one of them has become very interesting), plus the part-time jobs, plus finding time to spend with Kristy, plus getting stuff together to apply to seminary has really been tough. But, it has been good. It has shown me that I can work extremely hard at something, succeed, and go all the way to the end with it. This is a marathon, not a sprint. The little victories along the way help to keep the motivation high, but the race does not end with the little victories, it end with the tape being broken.

Whether or not I am the one who breaks the tape is irrelevant (although it always increases the desire to think about winning), the fact that I will finish is what matters. As long as I can honestly say I didn't hold anything back and I virtually collapse on the other side of the finish line, I will be more than satisfied.

I was on the Track and Field team all four years in high school. I was more there for the field events (specifically high jump... personal best was 6'3" in case you were wondering), but because Madeira (Home of the Mustangs!) was a small school we had to pitch in where we were needed. My senior year I was tapped to be a part of the 3200 meter relay. This is where four people run two laps (800 meters) each, passing a baton after each leg. An 800 is one of the hardest races in track since it is right at the break between a distance race and a sprint. Basically, you are sprinting a long distance... it sucks. But, I have always been sort of competitive so I tried to take it seriously. I was given the third leg to run.

The first meet was a tri-meet where one of the schools was our rival. Turns out, I knew the guy running the third leg for them. We competed against each other in football, basketball, and even (**NERD ALERT**) Latin competitions ("Certamen" if you will). So, I wanted to beat him. Unfortunately, when I was handed the baton, we were in last place by at least a quarter lap. So, I took off. I ran as hard as I could. At the halfway point I had caught the other two runners. By the end of my leg, I had gotten us a quarter of a lap lead. My time was 2:04. I threw up on the infield as soon as I stepped off the track.

Sadly, our anchor was not as "into it" as I was. He showed up wearing high tops for crying out loud! He lost the lead I had gotten and we lost the race. I was pissed, but I also knew I had left everything on that track... and so did my coach.

That is how I want to finish school. That is how I want to finish life. That is when the Father will say, "Well done good and faithful servant."

Finish Strong.

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