When Second Place is Still a Win
When I was in high school, I fractured my ankle. Nothing as glamorous as a sport’s injury caused by a buzzer-beating jump shot or anything. I simply turned sharply while running, and my ankle decided to stay in a forward-facing position instead of banking left with the rest of me. An x-ray, some ice and ibuprofen, and several days on crutches was the extent of the ordeal. Oh, and the fact that my ankle was permanently weakened, making it especially susceptible to sprains.
Because of this injury, my ankle needed to be tightly wrapped with extra support anytime I was running a race during track season. Thankfully, my coach took a special interest in making sure it was securely taped and ready before any of my events. But no matter how solidly it was wrapped, on occasion, it would still turn, and I would be confined to limping around for a few days while it healed.
My favorite event was the 300-meter low hurdles. I admit that I was a pretty decent athlete in my younger days and was the lead runner in this competition for my school. I also mostly won the event at meets against other local runners.
Except for Paula.
Paula was a star performer for a rival team, and no matter how hard I pushed myself, I always managed to finish a step behind her. Just. One. Step. Race after race.
Until the district meet.
That particular day, I was closing the gap quickly and knew I was about to beat my long-time opponent. I was feeling strong and gaining ground — and then my foot grazed that next-to-the-last hurdle. When I came down on my weak ankle, I felt it snap beneath me as I crumpled to the track. Without thought, I rose quickly and finished the race, coming in second. Right behind Paula.
I literally fell into my coach’s arms as I crossed the finish line. As always, he had been standing off to the side, timing me and encouraging me with his yells. When he saw me go down, he moved into my lane and was waiting to help me.
“You blew your ankle, didn’t you?” It was more a statement than a question.
I nodded my head against his shoulder, tears of frustration and pain pooling in my eyes.
“You had her,” he said emphatically.
“I know,” I whispered, frustration rising once again.
While still bearing the majority of my weight with one arm, Coach leaned me back until he was peering into my face.
“Look at this,” he said with a slight smile, holding up his stopwatch.
The digital numbers staring back at me revealed my fastest personal time . . . And a new school record.
“I’m sure glad you got back up,” Coach said with a widening grin. Then he wrapped his arm about my waist as we hobbled off the track together.
Although it has been more than thirty years (insert audible gasp of disbelief) since that event, the memory of it has stuck with me throughout my lifetime. I can honestly say, I’m glad I didn’t win the race that day because the life lessons I’ve learned from it have been far more valuable than any blue ribbon I’ve ever received. Even more valuable than beating Paula in a race — although, I have to admit, that would have been pretty sweet.
I’ve listed just a few of those lessons below:
1) Don’t let a weakness keep you from running the race.
2) Push yourself to your fullest potential.
3). If you fall, get back up as soon as possible.
4) Finish the race.
5) When your strength is spent, fall into your Coach’s arms.
6) A personal best is still a best.
7) You can trust Coach will always be there to encourage and support you.
8) Lessons learned are more important than coming in first place.
With all of this in mind, it seems a fitting way for me to begin a new writing season. This last year and a half, I have taken a sabbatical from many things. More aptly, God has enforced a period of rest upon me. While this rest has been needed, it has not always been easy. Or appreciated. Multiple times, I have found myself clambering internally and externally. And all the while, my heavenly Coach was telling me to stop and let Him wrap my weaknesses so I didn’t suffer further injury.
I pulled back from many relationships and stepped away from various forms of social media. I began to say “no” to several opportunities, even as I cautiously said “yes” to a few. It has been a time of self-awareness and self-care on a deep level.
Time and again, I have been tempted to fall back into my former and familiar ways. I’ve wanted to pick up responsibilities that were not mine to bear and capitalize on opportunities just because they were before me. Mostly, Sometimes I have stayed my hand when Father has prompted me to do so. He has surrounded me with His presence and encouraged me to bring in the borders of my life by setting boundaries that I have allowed to be trampled over in recent years. I wish I could say this has been easy, but truth be told, I’m so prone to activity that I may always struggle with over-commitment.
That said, I am slowly picking up a pen again and putting words to the wanderings of my heart. It has been long in coming, and many things I’ve processed throughout the past months may never be shared with anyone but Father.
For what it’s worth, I am beginning the journey of blogging again on a new site. I will include some of my former writings along with fresh thoughts. In the meantime, I am continuing to circle the wagons about my soul. And draw grace from the God who holds me secure even when I feel unworthy of His time and devotion.
He is good like that. To love me in spite of myself and strengthen me when I am weary and weak.
If you have been (or perhaps are) in a similar place, I invite you to
join me here. Let’s grapple together over timeless truths, and come to
terms with the questions of faith that may always dog us on this side of
eternity. I do not promise answers here. Only honesty as I commit to
continue running the race before me, trusting that when it is all said
and done, my eternal Coach will be at the finish line to catch me.
Knowing that His presence and redemption is the highest prize awaiting
me.
For now, I’ll content myself to hear Him say, “I’m sure glad you got back up.”