Running with Christ
One Saturday morning I joined a 10-kilometer fun run. By the last few kilometers, believe it or not, I was running with Christ.
I have been enrolled in a running clinic since late last summer, but I wasn’t as prepared as I wanted to be for that run. The first week of classes had just passed and the assignments and the things to read and do were starting to pile up. I was glad I was in the company of classmates with the same sentiments. It was a hectic week at work for them, too, and they actually just agreed to this fun run because our coach required us to.
After the talking, picture taking and warm-ups, the starting gun was fired and the motions of running (and walking) commenced.
My first five km were so far so good. I was enjoying the free Pocari Sweat handed out at the hydration stations. I was also enjoying passing my “competitors” who looked like exhausted 500-meter-dash runners, and watching the African runners pass me like they were floating on air.
The next five km were a struggle, I had a bad stitch on my right side and no amount of walking or stretching could get rid of it. The people I passed earlier were now passing me. I felt like what those people walking a long time in the desert looked in the movies. I wanted to just stop, sit down and whine, but I knew I couldn’t. That’s a rule I learned in marathons: You can slow down, walk even, but you cannot stop because you’ll lose your momentum. I’ve been running since 2008, and this rule, I believe, I will never break.
While I was walking I saw my classmates in running school on the next path. They told me to skip my current track and join them. No fun in doing that as well, so I walked on.
After some time, I saw the most awaited placard: two km to go! By this time I felt like I was dying; I felt my skin tingling with the loss of salt because of excessive sweating. I knew I had run eight km already, and two km is shorter than one roundabout at the UP Diliman academic oval. It should be easy, right? The end was near, but still I could not fathom where I would get the strength to run and not crawl my way there.
As I passed the placard, I decided to pray. Why I thought of it at that time and not when my side stitch was beginning, I don’t know.
Have you ever prayed for something and wondered if you would be heard, and then a sign suddenly appeared without you asking for it? Sounds amazing, but that was what happened. I told the Lord, It’s up to You now. I can’t do this, it’s just so hard! A minute later I derided myself for overacting, given that it was I who had chosen to join the fun run. I was not like Christ who had to walk the long road (more than 10 km of market places in Jerusalem—think palengke—carrying a cross heavier than himself, and being flagellated, mocked and crowned with thorns).
Believe it or not, after thinking those thoughts I happened to look at the asphalt beneath my feet and saw a single metal nail with rusting wires wrapped around it. In the middle of the street in Bonifacio Global City, with no construction work nearby, there was this nail! It was such a big coincidence that it would have been foolish not to consider it a message or a sign from God. My prayer was heard, so now I could run!
Knowing God was with me, I ran as fast as my feet could take me. You can do all things with God, after all. At the last corner, seeing the finish line, I ran the way I saw the African runners did it, like my body was in pristine condition, free of aches or exhaustion. I was imagining my feet light on the ground because God was carrying much of my weight. I was smiling because it felt great to run with Christ.
I passed two runners walking just so they could get to the finish line and receive some freebies. As I was sprinting toward the crowd, I could hear the emcee praising me for my perseverance. And as I passed the big FINISH sign, I was greeted with applause and cheers.
Running a marathon is like taking a medicine course: We like to think it’s so hard because we need to read so many books, do much paperwork, and practice interaction with patients in a short period of time, pushing ourselves to our limit without being able to stop. We complain about it, but actually it’s our choice to study medicine, in the first place.
As we run through this marathon called medicine and business administration, let us not forget that we’ve got a God that can make marathon runners float on air. Run with Christ!
Frey Malanyaon, 25, is a student at Ateneo School of Medicine and Public Health. He is also enrolled in Milo-Apex running school.
