All families have traditions they pass down from generation to generation. Ours is running the 400m. It’s something of a strange legacy to leave. When you are running, the pain is intense and you can only think of being done. However, it becomes part of your identity. If you can triumph over that race then other things in life are a lot less scary. Because of its difficulty and unchanging nature, there is an honor shared among those who have called it their race.
My father is James Sr. He ran track in the early ‘60s. He was a good runner and his memories of those days are as clear as ever. He was coming of age in a world that was quickly changing. He dealt with all the insecurities, frustrations and challenges of a normal teenager. Running soothed those feelings. There was solace in the endless laps around a track and the sprints up and down the bleachers. Life was simple while he was running full speed, heart pounding in his ears, his lungs and legs burning while he focused on finishing the race and doing his best.
I am James Jr. Over two decades later, I put on the same uniform. A different world by then, I dealt with different issues but struggled with the same emotions as my father before me. It was my time to come of age. My anger and insecurities faded away when I ran. All my attention quickly focused on pushing through the same physical pain my father had felt. In seasons where mile upon mile melted into the distance, my spirit was soothed. God has always spoken to me in those quiet times when all of life’s other troubles seem insignificant. When the pain is white hot, I know that He is there.
This time, James III suited up. It was his last regular season meet. The world is now radically different than the ones my father or I competed in. James deals with his own issues and insecurities and the same teen angst occasionally boils under the surface. He finds his own peace at full speed, the wind in his hair, every muscle screaming to quit. While he focuses on being the best God made him to be, his character is strengthened.
On Saturday, three men stood together at the track. We share more than just a name. One is beginning his race. One is in the middle of his season. One is patiently finishing well and preparing to receive his crown. We have circled the same track, run in the same events and found the same peace. Each of us runs to honor those that came before us, the One that is always with us, and those who will come after us. This is our race.
I’m thankful we had the chance to do it together one more time.
