The Finish Line is Hallowed Ground
I've been on both sides of the finish line. A first time marathoner with enough lactic acid and endorphins to both fall and fly. A volunteer with a faltering voice from cheering on scores of runners. If you can relate to this, you know a CHIP isn't a snack, but a tiny revered timing device attached near your heart until you pass through the finish line. Whether you run to compete or run to complete, the entry fee is the beginning of a journey, the finish line the defining moment months later. Amy Marxkors wrote about my marathon experience in the fall of 2011. The finish line represented an emotion I wanted to pack into my head for retrieval on those nasty days when the world isn't right. It was a celebration and a dance of infinite love. Hallowed ground. I know not everyone would compare the finish line to a spiritual event or monument of greatness, but for a runner it is all that. It's the long runs, the failures, the discipline, the frustration, the fist pump, yes, the hallowed ground.
There is permission to let go at the finish line. (Do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight.) We might hug, throw up, kiss the ground, get a medal, eat a banana, throw up again (or all of the above). Just because we are at the finish line. It's our marker of accomplishment and we own a piece of it forever.
I hope you'll join me in prayers for those that missed that moment.