My alarm went off at 6:00 on a Monday morning. I was expecting it and had actually been lying there awake for a few minutes already. I hopped out of bed and started my routine preparations for the 18 km bike ride I go on with two neighbor ladies every morning at 6:30 during the workweek.
I was excited for this particular ride because I had missed half of the week prior due to a teething, feverish toddler who'd spent the nights fitfully and the days pasted to my hip. That weekend, we had a tropical storm blow through which caused power outages for both nights. When this happens, we move our toddler's collapsible crib to the living room, for the night, where there are more windows and better airflow. Not wanting to wake him, I headed out the back door and circled around our house to enter our front porch from the outside to grab my bike.
It was still a few minutes before our regular start time, so I sat on our front steps, waiting for my friend who lives behind me to pass by on her bike. With it being a morning after a storm, she hadn't been sure how the weather would be at 6:30 and was late enough starting out that our friend who lives up the road came down to see if we were ready and what the delay was. I told her our companion just needed a few extra minutes, so we waited together by my front gate, making small talk.
Soon enough, we were off! Three women in very different stages of life. The neighbor who lives behind me is in her 40s, a young grandma and successful business owner, whose family is also a part of our church. We used to bike together in the neighborhood before I got pregnant, so when I asked her a few weeks ago if she'd be interested in riding again, she was as ready to get back at it as I was. The neighbor who lives up the road from us is a young college student, living with her parents, who we'd met on our second week of biking. We wanted to try out the 18 km stretch that runs from our residential area out of town to the highway and she happened to be at the corner the first morning we turned down that road. She didn't have any biking companion so we invited her to join us; she hasn't missed a morning since and has turned us into a fun, dynamic group of three.
We joke that we ride this route backwards. The ride out of town consists of an easy stretch of mostly flat, slightly downgraded road, with a few downhill slopes. The ride back is where you feel the burn in your legs; that slight downgrade turns into a noticeable gradual upgrade, and those downhill slopes turn into inclines that can seem like actual (tiny) hills to a tired biker. All in all, it's a good run - a good mixture of fast cycling and resistance. Our first time riding it, the route took us an hour and fifteen minutes. By the middle of the previous week (two weeks in), we had shaved it down to an hour, confidant that eventually we'll get it to a forty-five minute ride.
It had been a total of five days since I'd ridden my bike - three weekdays of a sick toddler plus the two day, stormy, weekend - but I was determined to keep up with my friends. They only had three days on me, how much could that affect their stamina versus mine? I found out around the three-quarter mark when my feet started tingling and my legs started going numb - probably a sign of lack of oxygen because I was breathing hard through my mouth but couldn't seem to take deep enough breaths. Still determined, I didn't let it stop me from rushing up the inclines and keeping up on the upgrades. "Just. Keep. Pedaling." I finally let my pride slide, ever so slightly, and slowed to a cool down before they did. My legs weren't getting enough circulation and I felt like I could throw up.
My friends waved good-bye as I turned down my road and hopped off my bike, pushing it through the front gate. I felt a wave of nausea wash over me again and heard a buzzing in my ears as I dropped the bike on the walk and shoved my keys into the padlock. "Just turn the key and open the door. You can sit down on the porch chair." But, actually - I couldn't; I rested my forehead on the porch door and couldn't even turn the key. Just the thought of walking up the two steps into the porch was enough to make me consider lying down in the grass and I heard, more than felt, the keys slip out of my hands and drop onto the porch floor, just out of reach. I remembered I left the back door open when I left that morning to avoid potentially waking our toddler. "There are no steps in the back and the recliner is right inside. Just leave the bike here on the walk and let Miguel take it in. Need. To. Sit. Down!" I don't remember the last time I sweated so much or felt so faint from overexertion - probably not since the first time I decided to run up a mountain in Guatemala, years ago. So much for "missing five days shouldn't be a big deal".
My alarm went off at 6:00 on Tuesday morning. I was expecting it but decided an extra 10 minutes in bed might help me accumulate a little more energy for the morning's ride. The previous morning back on my bike, despite my overexertion, paid off and I actually had no problem keeping up for most of the way, maintaining much better breathing. But those inclines were getting to me again and I fell behind on a few of them, not willing to relive the near fainting. "Keep up, Rose, come on." As I internally chastised myself, another voice started whispering in my brain. Rather than pay attention to it, I pushed up the incline and sped up to catch up with my friends, just in time to hit the next one - the one most resembling a small hill. "Ugh!" once again I fell behind, trying to wisely pace myself but getting irritated that my stamina just wasn't cutting it. I peaked at the top and, again, tried speeding up. "C'mon, catch up!"
"You don't have to catch up" it was that other voice again, this time more persistent, so I paid more attention. "You don't have to catch up - just endure. You just have to keep going." A wave of life-giving conviction washed over me, the feeling tangible enough that I caught myself smiling. Of course. I don't NEED to catch up. Isn't it better for me to just keep going and make it home without needing to physically keep myself from falling off the bike?
I don't do very well in the area of giving myself grace, even when surround by in-my-face facts. Facts such as:
- My toddler still wakes up once or twice a night, meaning I don't sleep as solidly or rest as fully as my biking companions.
- I still hadn't recuperated from the sleep deprivation from the week before
- My biking companions had three full days of biking this route without me and I hadn't done any cardio for five days straight - it really does make a difference, especially in stamina!
These are just facts of my life, things I get used to and don't like to cite as excuses. But that Tuesday morning, I was given the gift of a reminder that grace is for me, too.
And, it is for you, too!
The root of this reminder can be found in Hebrews 12:1-2a (I really like how the Amplified version puts it):
Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses [who by faith have testified to the truth of God’s absolute faithfulness], stripping off every unnecessary weight and the sin which so easily and cleverly entangles us, let us run with endurance and active persistence the race that is set before us, [looking away from all that will distract us and] focusing our eyes on Jesus, who is the Author and Perfecter of faith [the first incentive for our belief and the One who brings our faith to maturity]...
Endurance and active persistence. Focusing our eyes on Jesus.
You don't have to catch up to that person you think is so far ahead of you in their walk (or should we say run?) with God. You just need to endure, to persist, to make your focus Jesus. Jesus, the first incentive for our belief and the One who brings our faith to maturity.
HE is the goal. Eternity with Him, the prize.
How much of Him are we missing trying to keep up with everyone else?
