The Race

I ran a 5K this past weekend. My third ever, if you count the Dirty Dash I ran the previous weekend (not sure it counts, as there wasn’t so much running involved—more just playing in the mud). And as much as I’d like to say I run fast and hard and have great endurance, I don’t. My time is never what others would consider great.


But the thing is, how fast I make it across that finish line is not what it’s about for me. In fact, I’m not sure I even care about crossing the finish line.

For me it’s about putting on my shoes and trying. Because if I never put on my running shoes, never step onto the track, never huff and puff and work through the hard parts—then I will absolutely never make it to the end.


Tomorrow it won’t matter who won the race, or who came in last, or who didn’t go the distance. What will matter is who had the courage to step onto the track in the first place, and where we ended up when the race was over.


Are you brave enough to jump into the race?

Daily Defining Moments, Part III: Mean Girls

Situation #3:

Recently, a young girl I know went on a school-sponsored trip. After having her medications taken and held hostage by an unknown party for three days, then having her belongings hidden while she was in the shower, cold water dumped on her in the wee hours of the morning, among other things—this girl could have been vying for revenge. (Especially knowing that the culprits were girls once considered her good friends.)

But this particular young woman wasn’t. Through her hurt and frustration, she opted to take the high road. She didn’t play a single mean prank, even on the girls who wouldn’t leave her alone.

The explanation she gave was this: I don’t ever want to make anyone feel the way they made me feel. I’m not that person.

But it’s not an experience she wants to repeat, either.

So. In this instance, does our compassion make us stronger, or does turning the other cheek make us weak?

(FYI: Right now, I’m wishing Kenny Rogers had written a song about mean girls—cuz I can’t get his song Coward of the County out of my head.)

My conclusion: I’m not saying there’s a right or wrong way to handle any of the situations I’ve mentioned. I think it’s more about who we choose to be and how we react to the cards we’re dealt. In real life, as well as in fiction. As I recently heard quoted by a wise man (sorry, I didn’t catch the source), “It is our daily efforts and how we handle challenges that define us.”

So I ask myself:

1. Will I be defined by a pile of popcorn on the floor?
2. Will I be defined by hitting the ball that results in the winning run?
3. Will I be defined by the cruelties of others?

No, children, I will not. But I might be defined by how I react to all those things. And that, my friends, is the stuff of which personal growth is made.

How will you be defined today?