Mile One
 
2 Timothy 1:6
For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God

I remember the day clearly. It was Monday, October 13, 2014. My friend Scott had told me a few months earlier, soon after Meg died, that Mondays were particularly hard on him. He didn’t say why. I assumed it was because Meg died on a Monday. Maybe part of it was that, for many of us, Mondays come with the hope of new beginnings. I didn’t think Mondays brought Scott that same hope. This weighed on me that particular Monday, so I sent him a text message with this scripture:

"Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross." (From Hebrews 12:1-2)

I sent these words hoping they would encourage Scott, even if just a little. I wanted to lift him up with the reminder that this life ends in joy, no matter what his pain was trying to tell him. I knew he’d likely have a hard time believing that. I know I would have.

As the day went on, though, that scripture began to speak to me with more encouragement than I’d hoped it would bring Scott. Especially the words “run with endurance the race that is set before us.” I felt those words cheering me on. Pushing me toward something. Toward what - I didn’t know. But I could feel them. 

Later that day I found myself on the Meg's Miles Supporters Facebook page. The page was home to a group  of people who ran for Meg after her death and were still drawing inspiration from her life. Group members shared stories about their own running journeys, many of which had started because of Meg.

This day a lot of the conversations in the group focused on the upcoming Richmond Marathon. Runners were coming from all over the country to run what was one of Meg’s favorite races. Virtual friends were planning to unite in Richmond to tackle what, for many, would be their most challenging running endeavor ever. People who’d never met each other outside of keyboards and screens were cheering each other on to greatness.
I walked away from so many of those online conversations inspired to do something greater in my own running life. And on this day, behind the force of one relentless piece of scripture and the cheers of an online family, I did.

Truth be told, I’d been secretly stalking the Richmond Marathon registration website for a few weeks now. I’d lean in and curiously study every word until my eyes ultimately zeroed in on the registration button. As much as I’d hype myself up and convince myself I was capable of running 26.2 miles, by the time my dreamy finger got anywhere close to that registration button Mr. Reality intervened. Like a mall security guard approaching a stalker who has misguided intentions, he’d tell me, Keith, unless you plan on showing up with a bicycle or a motorized vehicle, it’s time to move along. (Little did he know I probably couldn’t bike that far either!)

I listened to him. Every time I listened to that voice and I moved along.

On the way out, though, something always caught my eye. It was another button, calling out like the candy bar display in the checkout line at the grocery store, “don’t forget to check me out.” It was the registration button for the half marathon. The security guard pushed me along. “Don’t even think about it,” he’d say.

On this day, Monday, October 13, 2014, I didn't think about it. I saw the candy bar, didn't give the voice a chance to warn me, and I grabbed it. I drove my finger right into that half marathon registration button and officially signed myself up for the most physically challenging endeavor of my life. A race had been set before me. And oh by the way, a race I had less than 5 weeks to prepare for.

In those 5 weeks of "training" leading up to my first half-marathon, I began to feel life in a new way. Maybe it’s as simple as I began to feel life at all. But there was a fire burning inside me that wasn’t there before I pushed that button. It was a fire of excitement and fear and second thoughts and determination all in one out of control flame. But there was a flame. A beautiful, hot, fiery flame.

It occurred to me then that maybe that was what was drawing me to these invisible friends and their conversations about running the Richmond Marathon. Maybe it wasn’t the plans they were making to do something great in their running lives, maybe it was the fire that exhaled from them as they talked about it.

In a letter the Apostle Paul wrote to his friend Timothy he said “I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God.” I think we all have flames inside of us just waiting to be fanned into fire. But maybe we’ve become so afraid of fire that we spend our days stalking the flames instead of blowing into them, sending them sky high and spreading their warmth to those who might need them most. Like a gift from God. 

The tragic story of Meg’s death inspired me to take a deeper look at my life. It challenged me to live differently. Looking back, I think the biggest adjustment I was being challenged to make in my life was to quit stalking life and start living it. Through Meg’s story I felt God constantly asking me if I believed the flame he’d lit inside me was ever going to roar into a life changing blaze - if I didn’t fan it.

On Monday, October 13, 2014, I pushed the button. I registered for the Richmond Half-Marathon. More importantly, though, that’s the day I responded to Paul’s reminder to fan into flame the gift of God.
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And then, well then came the race itself. But that's another chapter.