Miracles and Marathons

The Children of Israel are easy to criticize. God showed them His power by miraculously by opening the Red Sea so they could cross on dry ground, then sweeping Pharaoh's pursuing army away. Yet three verses later, they're grumbling. They're complaining about getting a drink. They had witnessed the biggest miracle in the Bible only days before, and they're grumbling.

Perhaps I've been too hard on them. After all, the verse says (Ex. 15:22) they traveled for three days in the desert without finding water. Three days is about the limit that the human body can go without water, and I'm sure walking in the desert didn't help matters. They were desperate. This wasn't a mere wish for something cool to drink, it was a matter of life and death.

Even after a miracle, you still have to live daily. This summer I saw God intervene and save me from what could have been a fatal four-wheeler crash (see my post "The Crash" 7/30/10). However, I'm left with a hyper extended knee and an inability to run. I'd been running regularly with my friend Kristen for about four years. I didn't mind taking a break in August, because the weather was brutally hot and humid, but as the weather's gotten cooler it's gotten harder.

When I saw the first billboard for the Prairie Fire Marathon (to be held here in Wichita on 10/10/10), I nearly cried. Kristen and I were already training for it before my accident. We ran the Wichita Marathon last year, our first marathon. She had wanted to do one out of town, but we hadn't been able to come up with one that looked suitable. So we ran the Wichita, and agreed with the critics who had told us that running through the air force base was much too long and windy.

So we were looking forward to the Prairie Fire's new route, which will go through College Hill and Eastborough, which is our favorite choice for our long training runs. On an early Saturday morning, we can run 16 to 20 miles entirely in the shade, plus look at all the historic homes with their beautiful flowers and landscaping.

Kristen's still been training, using her ipod for company instead of me, which makes me sad. I miss our oxygen-starved conversations (we get about 30 minutes worth of real-time talking in an hour run, but it passes the time).

Dave and I were listening to Sports Daily on the radio between lawns last week, and when their guest said the marathon route would go over the Keeper of the Plains bridge, I burst into tears. The Keeper bridge! We run over that every Thursday (or, at least, I used to). After this beautiful bridge and the Keeper Plaza were completed four years ago, I've wondered why the different races didn't work it into their routes. Now they have. Plus, they're running through Cowtown! The Turkey Trot always ends at the Cowtown parking lot--never have we run through it.

So I've been icing my knee each morning, wearing a knee brace to mow each day, and feeling sorry for myself. Wandering in the desert, wishing for the Promised Land. It's hard to keep Moses' perspective. But I try. So I remind myself that the tree that I smashed the left headlight of my dad's four-wheeler into could have been front-and-center. That Laurel, who was on the back, was completely unhurt. That I've been able to continue working with very little discomfort from the beginning.

And I know that God could have provided water in the desert for the Children of Israel on Day One, if he'd wanted to. I think he wanted them to ask. I think he wanted to remind them that they still needed Him daily. And that as he had proven in the past, He could and would provide.

So I'm grateful for miracles, but I'm asking for healing. I'm trying to learn the lessons of patience in the desert, and I'm looking forward to the Promised Land.