Me and My Shadow {Crossing the Line Together}

I've been told that after a big race there's a let down of sorts. 

Training is over. 

Finish line is crossed. 

And you're left holding your medal, 

wondering,
"Hmmm. What now?" 

Honestly, I can't wait for it to be over.
Not because I'm dreading it. 

I'm NOT. I'm excited.

But because I will have done it. 

The impossible. 

That thing I never EVER thought I could do. 

 And make no mistake, 

while I put in the time training, 

this was SO out of my league. 

This is only something that God could have done in my life. 

I asked Him to hold my hand on the path, and He did. 

The whole way. 

A lot of people have asked if I'm running with someone on Sunday. 

Technically, no. 

But actually, YES. 

Sunday, it's just Jesus and me, 

out on the lakefront, doing our victory lap. 

I'm claiming the victory already, 

because, well, I am. 

That's why. 

I haven't run one run alone. 

Not one. 

A few felt like I was all alone; not gonna lie. 

But the reality is, I was never alone, 

whether I felt alone or not.

{ Feelings are fickle little buggers, aren't they? 

But that's a post for a whole 'nother day!}

He was there. 

As He promised. 

{And my family has been there every step of the way, too. 

Gonna do a whole post on that next week. 

Seriously, couldn't have done it without my three favorites in the whole wide world.}

I'm a visual gal. 

I can picture things clear as day. 

I'm not going to lie. 

I can't even count the number of times I have visualized 

myself crossing that finish line on Sunday. 

Hearing my kids yelling for me. 

Hearing my Jack Man yelling for me. 

Hearing friends who have been along for the journey yelling for me. 

I can visualize my mother, who will be in India, 

fervently praying for me in the late afternoon Indian sun. 

I can see my dad along the race track at Taladaga 

(no idea how that is spelled; I just know that's where he'll be)

 praying for me as the cars go whizzing by his seat at mock 5. 

And every time I visualize it, it takes my breath away. 

I can't even imagine what the real deal is gonna feel like. 

I see people literally all over the globe praying me through Sunday morning. 

And because God made me to be 'visual', 

listen to what He did for me Tuesday night. 

So since I started running on April 15th, 

I have not run at night. 

Not even once. 

Until this Tuesday night. 

And so off I went. 

Pitch dark. 

Nervous about twisting an ankle, 

wondering what possessed me to run at night this one time. 

3 miles down, one to go and as I got near Foster and Cicero Avenues, 

I looked down to my right and saw TWO shadows. 

Not ONE. 

TWO. 

Now I'm no doctor but I know there must have been multiple

 light sources to project two shadows of myself. 

One high light. 

One lower light. 

WHATEVER. 

I hate science (and math). 

BUT, my takeaway was this: 

Jesus is running RIGHT BESIDE ME. 

He has all along. 

Every run.

 But that night I got to 'see' Him there. 

I was reminded that I wasn't alone. 

And I loved that. 

I grabbed ahold of that gift of seeing Him beside me 

and ran like the wind the rest of the way home. 

(Okay, not really. 

Remember, speedy doesn't describe me.)

And you KNOW I will remember that visual as I run on Sunday. 

He'll be on my right.

 {And here's the funny thing. 

Every time I've run, 

I actually do picture Him on my right. 

Weird. I know. But true.} 

Do I think the shadow was Jesus'? 

NO. I'm not a whacko. 

It was my shadow. 

I know that. 

But it sure pointed me to the real deal. 

Jesus running alongside me when my hamstring was hurting. 

Jesus running alongside me when I was weary. 

Jesus running alongside me in the 100% humidity 

when I thought I would keel over from heat stroke. 

Jesus running alongside me when I get to mile 8 on Sunday 

and I wonder if I can keep pushing myself to finish. 

AND ... 

Jesus running alongside 

me as we break through the finish line tape 

 TOGETHER.