Have you ever run a race before? If you haven't run a race, I'm sure you've done something similar, something having a metaphorical finish line, right? Running a race is not easy. However, there are things that make it easier, like water stops set up regularly throughout the race, people along the way cheering you along, the halfway point, and the very thought of the finish line can be enough to pull you through.
But what if you started running a race and you thought it would be _____ long, you fill in the blank. You have that length in mind, you gear up for it, you know you can do it. But then what if when you get there to the finish you see that someone or something had moved the finish line? You get there and there are no cheering crowds, there is no tape to break through, there is no t-shirt to pull onto your sweaty body.
You think, huh, I must have had a different idea of where the finish line was supposed to be. You soon understand it's true.
The finish line is farther away, you pick up your pace, you start to run again. You keep on running, you are talking yourself through it because you are getting tired, you cannot even see the finish line. Someone keeps moving that thing.
You start to think you are really crazy to be running a race in which there is not a finish line that you can see, you start to wonder if there is a finish line, you turn a lot of stuff inward on yourself, why did you tell your family you could do this, why did you promise your son you would finish this race? You stumble at times. You try to keep drinking water, you try to keep yourself nourished as you keep on running. Sometimes you stop and your hands are on your knees. When you are stopped a friend will always come through and do the slow clap....clap....clap and you step forward again. When you are really struggling, I mean, you have come to a full-on halt, your friends and loved ones will step in and hold you up a while and walk a piece with you. And you go on and your hand shields your face from the sun as you peer ahead and look for the finish line. And you just go on, with faith, that it is there somewhere. You're there, finish line, right?
I say to myself now, while I'm strong, for the next time I am bent over, hands on knees, my loved ones' hands outstretched to hold me up. Keep squinting, keep searching. Finish line, I know you have to be there.
12 comments:
Oh my. Oh my. Heart.
After reading your post, I feel out of breath, too. Here's your friend clap, clap, clapping, reaching out with a hug xoxo
This both makes my heart small (that the finish line keeps moving) and makes it swell (that I get to help along the way). Love you, Chrisser!
Oh, what a perfect metaphor. Someone stop moving that damn finish line! I'm holding you up, and I'm so grateful that you hold me up as well. So, so grateful.
Such a great analogy, C. We are right here clapping for you!
Thank you for holding me up today. I'll be there for you, too. Always.
Right here for you sweet woman. Cannot wait till I can help up by running over and feeding the chickens while you do the crazy first weeks home dance.
Love you. There is a finish/beginish line, there is. My five year journey had it and yours will too. I swear.
What a powerful, and true, metaphor. Yes, there is a finish line, and one day it will suddenly loom up, you will step (no, run) across it, and say, "What? Already? I wasn't expecting it just now..."
Until then: clap clap clap from me.
Maggie
You are an amazing writer, my heart hurts for you. Clap, clap, cheer, cheer, hug hug hug...
Xoxox Kate
So sorry that finish line keeps getting moved! That is just awful, really, but it will come to an end -- hopefully soon. Then, there will be some other sort of finish line on the horizon, who knows, there is always something we are running towards. You've done such a great job of living life fully even during this wait. Enjoy the chickens and the puppy and your little family; can't wait to hear big news over this way. Soon!
When I was little and we'd all be out hiking, we'd be tired and confused and my parents would say, the end of the trail is just around that next bend. And we'd trudge on. Now that I've done those same hikes as an adult, I know the end was no where near the last 10 bends of the trail. Well, maybe the last bend. They knew we could make it, if we broke the hike down into little sections. They were right, we all made it.
You can make it. At some point you'll turn around to see the finish behind you.
this is lovely, and heartbreaking. thanks for sharing. hope your finish line comes soon.
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