Our Second Marathon

One of the best metaphors that I have heard concerning our recent life during the pandemic is that of the “second marathon.” When the lockdown and mandates of the pandemic first came upon us we took the encouragement of Hebrews 12:1 and began “running with endurance the race that was set before us.” 

We set off on our first marathon. We closed our churches and began worshiping online. We watched services on YouTube and Facebook. We attended services, classes and meetings on Zoom. We wore masks indoors and out when we  could be together. We received communion in little wax envelopes and anointing oil on Q-tips in the parking lot. We did not sing together (except maybe I heard the angels occasionally during the Doxology.) We ached with isolation and our souls longed for community.  There became hope and grace as vaccines became available, COVID numbers were in decline and churches were allowed to re-open. We had done it! We crossed the finish line! We completed this difficult and seemingly impossible marathon.

Except, we didn’t get to celebrate, or collapse in a heap or even take a drink of water. We didn’t get to rest our aching bodies and swollen feet. The Delta variant swooped in, and an official race organizer appeared out of nowhere. They slapped another race number on our back pointed us to a new starting line and set us off on a second marathon. 

This is how I feel. It’s how many people that I have talked with and prayed with over these past couple years feel, too. It might be how you feel. 

Many of you know that I love to ride bicycles. I like to race, too. I love the feeling of training and pushing as hard as I can, as fast as I can. I love completing difficult events and meeting lofty goals. I also love riding with my wife, Kristi. I love encouraging her to get better and stronger, even if it means that I have to slow down a bit. I also love it when we are both just taking it easy and enjoying the time together. I love it when we go on family rides with Audrey and MaryBrigid, which are much more relaxed for me, but certainly challenging for them, as they grow in their skill and stamina. In many of the gravel “races” that I participate in there are only a handful of people who strive for the podium. Rather, the goal for most of us is simply to finish. This is hard enough.

I mention this because I think it might give us some clue as to how we “run this second marathon” and maybe the third or fourth if it comes to that. We do it together. We do it at a variety of paces. We run sometimes. But we also walk. We encourage one another to press on and persevere. And we also encourage one another to rest, to slow down, even to take a nap. We need to dig deep with one another, to get below the surface, and be willing to be vulnerable   about how we are feeling as we navigate the course together. What obstacles are in our way? Is the weariness overtaking us? Do we feel refreshed and reinvigorated today? Or worn down to the nubs? Every day might feel different for every one of us. And while we might embrace  “with endurance the ‘race’ that was set before us,” there is no reason to always run. And there is certainly no reason to race for first place. Instead, let us us love, encourage, support, laugh, cry and walk beside one another on our way of getting everyone to the finish line.