“Did you win?”
When five-year-olds ask you this question after you tell them you ran a marathon, it can be quite demoralizing to tell them the truth. Even if the truth is that you came in 5,091st place out of 23,000 runners which was a new personal best. They just don’t get it. And then the disappointment on their faces. A little part of you dies every time. Such was the case when I was a kindergarten teacher. Students loved when I brought in my medals for show-and-tell on Mondays after weekend races. The Disneyland Half Marathon medal was a favorite…of mine, too.
So much so that I made sure students washed their hands before I allowed this medal to be passed around. After all, they were kindergartners.
I enjoyed and learned so much from my four years teaching kindergarten. But I longed to teach a higher grade level because with older students comes greater maturity levels, longer attention spans, deeper levels of academic aptitude, and, most importantly, common knowledge that third grade teachers don’t typically win marathons. So it was with eager anticipation, I proceeded to share with my new third grade class the summer marathon race recap displaying the medal as the grand finale. Then hands went up. Excited faces lit up the room – mine in particular as I called on the first student with his hand up. “Did you win?”
The words came out of his mouth almost in slow motion.
Then my reluctant response followed. “No, but…” There’s really nothing that can follow those words in a kindergartner or third grader’s mind. Let’s face it; in a child’s world, running is all about winning.
Instead of trying to explain why their teacher can’t run 100 meters in under ten seconds or why she hasn’t won any marathons, I decided to take on a new approach. Since our school theme was “Running God’s Race” (I might’ve had something to do with theme selection that year),
I encouraged my students to bring in any medals, ribbons, trophies, or certificates they earned from their sports events. I’ve had several accomplished gymnasts, swimmers, football, basketball, and soccer players, as well as runners in my classes. The first student brought in her race bib along with a medal awarded for being the youngest female cyclist to ride up Mt. Diablo. She proudly pinned her race bib on our class bulletin board. Soon another student shared her Heat Winner ribbons from the weekend’s swim meet as well as second and third place age group ribbons. Those went on the board as well. I loved when parents emailed me videos of their sons receiving their black belts in Taekwondo or their daughter’s gymnastics championship bar routine. We watched those together in class.
And we celebrated each one’s accomplishment.
About mid-year, our class board was looking quite impressive as it was filling up with all sorts of accolades. It wasn’t until after a certain 5K race several students had run that I saw the light bulb go on. Our afterschool running club participated in their first 5K race complete with medals and age group awards. This race was their first experience with “age group” recognition. Since the age groups that applied to my students were “8 and under” and “9 to 12,” several students excitedly shared their first, second, or third place medals. Most of the class knew who had run this race, so they had a rough idea of how many runners made up that age group. When they informally race each other during P.E. class, they know it’s a race against 23 other runners. This 5K race had 468 total runners. One student placed 14th in his age group and 110th overall.
A sense of satisfaction filled me that day as I overheard many students say to one another “Whoa, 110th out of 468! That’s pretty good!” Or “Dude, you got 3rd in your age group? That’s cool!”
By the end of the school year, none of my students were asking me anymore if I won my races. I did manage to win a few age group medals to which students commented “Wow, great job, Mrs. Tang!”
After teaching for almost ten years, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s almost impossible to have low self-esteem as a teacher especially if you teach younger grades. Whether they happen to see you from across a crowded movie theater, in line at the grocery store, or dining in a local restaurant, students scream out your name like you’re a rock star. It never gets old. But my favorite rock star moment was during the local Run for Education Half Marathon. I turned the corner at Mile 11 where a lot of spectators were cheering, and I heard the sweetest little voice cry out “Mrs. Tang! It’s Mrs. Tang!” Yep, the best feeling in the world. No medal necessary. I already got mine at Mile 11.
This April, there was a race that made me cry.
No, not because I was in typical pain from running. I’m talking about watching the finish of the Boston Marathon. A little man (5’5’’, 126 pounds) with a little name made big history. I’m talking about Meb, the winner of the 2014 Boston Marathon. Most people, myself included, would not have known that Mebrahtom Keflezighi grew up in the little country of Eritrea (northeast Africa) before fleeing the war-ravaged country; or that his harrowing childhood experiences, emigration to Italy then San Diego, UCLA track career, and Olympic marathons would later make for an amazing testimony in a book called Run to Overcome. Before this year’s Boston Marathon, I had read articles and heard interviews about Meb’s faith in God. But it wasn’t until after reading his book (published well before the 2014 Boston Marathon) that I understood the Bible verse that became Meb’s theme:
“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.” 1 Corinthians 9:24
Coming from someone who just won the most prestigious marathon in the country and possibly the world (depending on who you ask), this verse seems to be all about a first place finish. When I came across the verse years ago – way before I had started running – I have to admit that it bothered me a bit.
“Only ONE gets the prize?”
Maybe I was looking at it through teacher lenses and picturing disappointment on student faces when I can only give out ONE first place award. Or the times my own daughters have been hundredths of seconds behind the first place swimmers. I’ve also been the parent who volunteered to coordinate ribbons at swim championships and sat there looking at a long table full of ribbons in colors I had never seen because these ribbons went all the way to 16th place. How does it feel to come in 17th? The kids always wanted to place 1st, 2nd, or 3rd because then you got a gigantic “fluffy ribbon” – you know, the ones that are over a foot long and have that big round top and two tails hanging from it. But why is it that even if a race was your best finish time by a long shot, the fourth place “little ribbon” still ends up being a little disappointing?
When the Apostle Paul lived in the bustling city of Corinth, Greece, the Isthmian Games were taking place. Similar to our modern summer Olympics, athletes competed in a variety of track and field events as well as wrestling, boxing, poetry reading, and singing.
But in these ancient games, there were no gold, silver, or bronze medals. It was first place or nothing.
Ah, now that verse is beginning to make a little more sense. “Run in such a way as to get the prize.”
Last weekend I ran a trail race that was the last qualifying race in a series leading up to the championship in a few weeks. When I first started this series, I wasn’t thinking at all about standings, awards, or finishes. I just love running the beautiful, albeit challenging trails that lead to some of the most breathtaking views in the Bay Area. Then the race director dangled a new carrot in front of runners on top of the already massive coaster medal and prize money incentives. Top ten males and females would receive a specially designed finisher’s t-shirt.
Honestly, this new incentive didn’t excite me. Why? Because I was way out of top-ten contention.
But a few weeks ago, an updated standings list was posted. I had moved up to number ten because several female runners had not completed the requisite number of qualifying races. This totally changed my mentality going into last weekend’s race. I wanted to keep my top-ten position. I wanted the t-shirt!
This doesn’t make any sense. You’d think I’d run harder, faster, and tougher when I’m way behind in the standings.
When I didn’t think I had a chance, I didn’t try as hard.
All of a sudden, the prize was within reach. A shirt? Really? But what if the prize only went to the top three finishers? Or the first place finisher? I believe I would still show up at the championship race. I believe I would still run somewhat hard, fast, and tough. I believe I would still enjoy the views.
The difference? I wouldn’t be running to win. My mentality would be to “just finish.” Make it through…somehow. Survive.
And now I’m not just talking about running. How many times have I just wanted to “get through” a difficult or cumbersome task? Or “get through the day?” “Or season in life?” I’ve often said to myself “If I can just make it to (fill in the blank).” What would I have done differently on those days if I was guaranteed victory right around the corner? But when faced with a situation in which no end is in sight, how do I take another step? Where’s the finish line?
Remarkable things happen when you catch that first glimpse of the finish line of a race. Any race.
This is what I think Paul was referring to when he wrote 1 Corinthians 9:24 – running or LIVING daily life as if the prize is within reach at all times.
Jesus never promised it would be fast or easy. But He did run the course ahead of us so He would know how to coach us through those challenging spots. Those days when things seem hopeless or you feel like you don’t stand a chance are the best times to go for a run… After all, who doesn’t love a huge come-from-behind finish?