Earlier this week, I went to my daughter’s final track meet of the season. Now, before you picture me in running shorts and a stopwatch yelling, “Let’s go!”—let’s get one thing straight: I do not run. I respect running. I admire people who run. But me? If you see me running, call the police because something has gone terribly wrong.
So there I was, dad on the sidelines mentally applauding every single runner for voluntarily doing what I would only do if chased by a bear.
Then came her event, the 4×800 meter relay. Now, this was brand new territory. She’s trained as a sprinter. Give her a 100 meter dash and she’s golden. 200 is even cool. Her comfort zone is short, fast, and done. But there she was, taking on two full laps around the track. And when that baton hit her hand, she launched off the line like she was running the 100-meter dash.
The first lap was great. She was out front, flying. I was proud and also slightly nervous. Because, well, pace matters. You can’t treat an 800 like a sprint… unless you’re trying to see Jesus early.
Then came the second lap.
Halfway around, you could see it. That burst of speed had caught up to her. Her arms got heavy. Her face said, “Why did I agree to this?” And honestly, I felt it too. Not in my legs, of course, but in my soul.
She was tired. Gassed. Ready to throw in the towel.
But she didn’t.
She kept going. Slower? Yes. Suffering? Probably. But quitting? Not an option. She made it to the finish line, gave everything she had, and handed off the baton with pure grit and determination.
And that, friends, is the picture of perseverance.
You and I? We’ve all had “second-lap” moments in life. We start strong. The new job, the big dream, the spiritual commitment, the fresh relationship. But then reality sets in. The pace gets heavy. The excitement fades. We get tired. Discouraged. Maybe we’re ready to give up.
But don’t.
Push through. Even if your pace slows to a crawl. Even if you’re limping through pain or panting through exhaustion. Even if you have to walk, crawl, roll, or yes even puke before you get there… just don’t quit.
Because quitters don’t finish, and finishers don’t quit.
We’re not called to be perfect. We’re called to endure. To finish our race. To hand off the baton of faith, love, and hope to those coming after us. So keep going. One step at a time.
And if you’re ever tempted to give up? Just picture a tired teenager on her second lap, digging deep to find strength she didn’t know she had because sometimes the greatest victories come not from speed, but from stubborn, courageous endurance.
Never quit. You’ve got this.
Source: www.derrickhurst.org