Crunch.

This morning I woke up. Late, much later than planned (much to the dismay of my dear roommate, who endured the multiple alarms going off that I, in my sleepy state of delirium, continued to reset), but it did happen. As I woke myself up with a spontaneous solo dance party to one song on repeat, I found the warmest of my running attire somewhere in the depths of my tiny college student room and pulled them on.

By the time I stepped out my door, it was 8 o'clock and the most glorious kind of lovely. The air was crisp. The sun just peering between the mountain peaks. Specks of gold seemed to flick from the snowy ground. And then it happened.

As I rounded the first corner, my foot landed in the few days old, overnight frozen, super loud crunchy snow. And it was like I was home.

Some mornings are just perfect. Even when you don't wake up on time.

Photo from Saturday's morning run. Close enough.

Friday's Letters

Dear Jimmy, you have been a wonderful friend to me. Well, as wonderful a friend as a phone can be. I know you're getting tired, and that it's not so much the years as it is the mileage, but please keep living. The fact that you sometimes freeze and then turn off of your own accord make me nervous. Endure to the end, buddy. You can have your final rest once it's time for a free upgrade.

Dear quilting, let's become good friends. You're doing a really good job of reminding me how to accept being new at something, and that mistakes are something about life that I will have to learn to accept. Just don't remind me too much. Deal?

Dear stolen fan, you have made my room infinitely more bearable. I think you were needed here much more than you ever were in the living room.

Dear running, thank you for all that you do for me. I especially enjoyed the hill you lead me to again--you know, the one that is surprisingly long and difficult every time? Well, I guess I've only really run it twice. Here's to hoping the third time's a charm. Or I can keep on enjoying the challenge, that works too.

Dear rain, apparently you remind people of me. That certainly isn't something that I have a problem with, because I sure think that you're great.

Dear home in the woods, you are a lot of fun. Sure, it means spraying Deep Woods Off bug spray all over me every time I step out the door, and weird dreams about grabbing a bear by the ears and kicking it in the snout to save my baby brother, but it's lovely. I watch the fireflies every night before I go to bed, and I see the most darling little speckled fawns come walking through our yard.

Life is Great, and Connecticut is Not a Desert.

I managed to leave my brand new pair of running shoes 2,300 miles away. And as much as I adore this video, it would be a little hard to reenact when the only love I have to run to is the pair of shoes I'd need to get there. Which is a bit of a problem, you know?

I can't just not run. Not running isn't an option. Even when I am dead, I will find a way to run. I think we established long ago that I am a runner through and through, but just in case you haven't caught on just yet, check out this Pinterest board of mine.

Now that we've removed any doubt, I will tell you good news. As it turns out, it's actually good to have a second pair of shoes to alternate with--you get a little more life out of them when they're allowed a little break every so often. You can't really blame them. I'd want a break too, if I had the job of a running shoe. So new plan: one pair for the summer, and I'll be able to alternate once I locate my missing pair somewhere in the depths of my Utah things.

The trouble with getting new shoes is that I feel the need to take them on a run right away. I mean, look at these babies--they deserve to know what life is. Tomorrow is Sunday, and they just couldn't wait all the way until Monday morning. So, even though it was 90 degrees, I laced them up for the first (and only--I never untie my running shoes) time and took my first beautiful steps with my new best friends.

Then we kept going for four more miles.

And you know, it was glorious and all. I've missed running--this was my first real run since my marathon. (Oh hey, did I tell you I ran a marathon? June 9, 2012. 4:06:17. It was a blast. I'll get back to you on that.) I powered up High Valley with the sun blazing down, and I thought about how great it feels to start pulling myself back together after 10 months of college unraveling. But I learned something very distinctly.

I've always known that humidity makes everything in general more wet. (Like the toilet tank, for example. There is condensation on the toilet tank.) I knew it makes you feel like you never dried off after taking a shower, and I knew it makes you drip about ten times more sweat than you would where it evaporates off you in half a second. But I got a good laugh when a Fleet Feet worker came in the store and said to his coworker, "It's like a freaking desert out there--it's so hot and dry! The air just has no moisture in it." No, sir, Connecticut is not a desert. And until the entire state erupts into wildfires, I will stand my ground. Because here, it takes about three steps before I am absolutely dripping with sweat. To be entirely honest, that was a fantastic feeling--sweat pouring down my face as I took step after burning step, pushing my way up that enormous hill. It's been too long since I pushed myself just for the sake of it. Somewhere along those four miles, a found a piece of myself I had misplaced in the hustle and bustle of life.

Still, I think I'll wake up before the sun for my run on Monday. And every day after that.

{Nostalgia} Capable of the World

Balloons, candles, all things blue and orange. It was my teammate and best friend's birthday--and it was a big race. Little trinkets to celebrate. Scripture mastery showdowns. I remember.

I had potential to do well that day. I had the drive. I had nothing to fear, I knew nothing but hope. The world was still new.

I remember the dew on the pristine golf course lawn. I remember the tension, the excitement in the air. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to throw up. I just wanted to run.

I was running the frosh race. We started our warm up late and couldn't get a cheer in before the start, so we did it in the first straightaway. The gun shot off, and so did we:

Where do we come from? We come from T-I-M-P-V-I-E-W, orange white and blue!

We settled into the stillness of footsteps and heartbeats. The top 20 of each race got an award, and I was going to get one of those--I had decided. I ran hard. Step by step, I was keeping with the top girls. I ran past the spectators, I ran around the cones. Step by step, I was behind the rabbit--a golf cart. And I was tired. Somewhere in that middle mile, I lost the pack. I fought to close the gap. My lungs ached for air, my legs begged for rest, and still my heart longed to keep pace.

I crossed the finish line. Relief not quite as sweet as I had imagined for the past 23-something minutes. Clinging to the flimsy flags of the chute, I knew that I had run harder than ever before. Waiting for the lightheadedness and nausea to pass, I knew I had finished a few places behind 20.

But I had set a goal, I had gone after it with my whole heart. I later learned how to run even harder, even faster. This was the wake up moment. This was the time I first knew to push past pain for something more lasting. This was my first race.

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In other news, there are exactly enough talks from General Conference to take one every week until the next session in October. I hereby declare the beginnings of Conference Weekly--a more directed attempt to bring the words of the prophets into my life.

View President Boyd K. Packer's address here.

His Strongest Runners

"There will be days when you feel defeated, exhausted, and plain old beat-up by life's whiplash. People you love will disappoint you--and you will disappoint them. You'll probably struggle with some kind of mortal appetite. Some days it will feel as though the veil between heaven and earth is made of reinforced concrete. And you may even face a crisis of faith. In fact, you can count on trials that test your testimony and your faith...

Now is the day when His kingdom is being established once and for all, never again to be taken from the earth. This is the last leg of the relay. This is when He needs His strongest runners."

-Sheri L. Dew, "You Were Born to Lead, You Were Born for Glory"

State track, 2010. My nerves are hidden behind the smile.

With three years of high school track and four of high school cross country under my belt, I have had my fair share of running relays. I've run every leg possible at one time or another, and I have to admit that I certainly enjoyed running the second leg best--I always felt the least pressure there. There, I was coming in after my first teammate had already run and no one could definitely tell how I was placing compared to other relay teams. There were still two more legs to follow me, so there was no particular hurry to pull ahead, and all I had to do was run hard and hand off the baton.

Generally, I only ever ran relays for the fun of it anyway. My events were the mile and 2-mile. I ran long and hard, and most crowds simply don't feel like watching a relay of four girls each running a 2-mile race.  And understandably so--if I weren't such a running nerd, I'd feel the same way. When I did run a relay, though, it was often the 4x800 during indoor track, every so often a sprint medley team's 800 leg, and on rare occasions I'd run a 400 leg. (A distance girl can only shrink her races down so far before placing begins to suffer significantly.) It was all random, and I enjoyed the laid back races my relays often were.

But junior year was different.

The girls' head coach decided to put together a real sprint medley team. Not one that we threw together the day of the meet, but one that consistently ran together at every meet with a same end goal: state. It didn't matter how we qualified, it didn't matter what it took, we were going to state.

The sprint medley is an interesting race. Two 200 meter legs, a 400 meter, and an 800 meter to finish. One mile divided by four girls, and I was chosen to run the 800 leg--half the distance of the race, and about as short as I could go and still do reasonably well. The legs are always run in the above listed order, which placed me, for no reason other than standard protocol, as the final leg.

Each race, I stood and watched my teammates run their best. I cheered, I hoped, I prayed. I jumped in excitement, and clenched my teeth in apprehension. "Yesyesyes," "gogogo," and "come ooooonnnnn, comeoncomeoncomeon" became new and commonly used parts of my vocabulary--often whispered under my breath as I circled around, watching each stride around the all-weather track (which was expected to live up to its name every meet). 

But the moment that baton was placed in my hand, it no longer mattered what had happened in the first three legs. Whether the other girls had run well or not, it was always up to me to pull it in and finish our race strong. The girls ran hard, they gave their best, and I was expected to do the same--plus pick up any slack that may have been left along the way. That is simply the nature of the final leg, no matter the race. 

And so, here we are in the final leg of the race against sin. We, however, have been placed in this leg for more valid a reason than the "standard protocol" order of events. Each of us have been placed here because the Lord knows that we can handle it. He knows that we will fight for the truth, He knows us to be His strongest runners.

There is a lot of weight carried in that knowledge--weight to carry, but also to strengthen. What more comforting, encouraging, and uplifting knowledge can we have than to know that our Father in Heaven trusts most absolutely in our ability? 

If God, who knows all, has enough faith in you to send you here as His strongest runner, can't you find the faith in yourself to run your best?

He is counting on you. He is counting on each of us. He knows your potential--He has seen what you have done, and what you can yet do. He knows what you can become. Trust that He has sent you to earth at this time for a purpose, trust that you are strong enough, and trust that He will strengthen you beyond your own abilities. You are never alone. You are running this race with others against sin, and those who have come before and will yet come are cheering from the sidelines.

And through it all, you will be further strengthened and become more able to thrive through the challenges. You will see the Lord's guiding hand. And, if you choose to listen, you will hear the affirmations that you are, indeed, one of His strongest runners--destined for greatness.

Morning Done Right

Prayer + run = a morning well done.

One of my favorite times to pray is while I'm running. There's something about running away from everyday life, from the absolute insanity of a hair-infested apartment filled with six busy college girls, stepping outside and just enjoying the beauty of the world that God created for us.

And besides, how can you deny a view like this?

Man, I sure do love the temple. I couldn't think of a single place I'd rather be on a Tuesday morning.

Click here to watch a video of church leaders expressing their thoughts on the temple and here for answers to common questions about the temple.

May we make whatever sacrifices are necessary to attend the temple and to have the spirit of the temple in our hearts and in our homes.

-President Thomas S. Monson

June 9, 2012

Today my official marathon training program started. Today I ran three quarter-mile hill repeats--nothing too long, nothing too fast, but man it sure did feel good.

Today I could conquer the world if it came up against me. I feel so strong, so blessed, so supported. I can do hard things. And this will be hard. This will be months and months of early mornings and healthy food. It will be working hard and early bed times. It will be running my butt off, it will be strength training, it will be a whole lot of icing the entirety of my aching-so-good body. (Similarly, it may be a cortisone shot, though I certainly hope to never reach that point.) It will be pushing past feelings of inadequacy, and it will be digging down to the deepest part of me on a regular basis.

I will overcome my fears and my roadblocks. I will work towards my goals and I will achieve something fantastic.

123 days to go. The countdown begins today.

In the End

I would begin this post with a catchy phrase akin to, "Well kids, it's that time of year again!" or "I know you've been waiting for this post all year long, so I am here to inform you that today is your lucky day!"

Except, I've never done one of these posts before. So I guess I'll just let you know that my day has been spent reviewing pictures of my life from January 2011 onward, and they have officially been organized in a manner that I feel is presentable to whoever in the internet world may stumble upon them.

You may now proceed to enjoy my year in review.

January:

In January I made my first-ever skirt. It was among the most frustrating things I have ever done. Let's just say that my skills do not lie in gluing cotton balls and ribbon to felt.

I made many an excursion to Salt Lake City for various musical purposes, including performing Dona Nobis Pacem in the Salt Lake Tabernacle, performing in the state capitol building, and watching some friendies perform at All-State Band.

I went dumpster diving at Krispy Kreme well past midnight. Free donuts!

I successfully donated approximately one pint of my own blood to save up to three lives.

And, I apparently turned my little brother into a shopping, sunbathing gangsta.

February:

It seems that much of February was either spent watching every showing of my school's production of Two Gentlemen of Verona or gallivanting around dressed as a cat with five friends, four of which were crazy enough to join me.

In other news, I began my lifelong goal of actually decorating my room. In hindsight I realize that I never did print off the pictures to go in those empty frames, and thus I have yet to complete the aforementioned lifelong goal.

I finally became someone's sweetheart, though it was only for a day.

Also, I received love-post-it-notes all over my car.

March:

Apparently nothing happened in March but my first ever half marathon (Canyonlands Half, with a time of 1:53.30) and deciding to fit four teenagers and a two-year-old inside my little brother's tent.

But I'm sure the month was great, just the same.

April:

Ah, April. The month of love. 

I'm not exactly sure why I said that, but it seemed fitting.

In April, I experienced the joys of attending a Morp dance with the theme of, "Ugly Prom."

I had a most wonderful reunion with my Fiji girls in which we remembered what a picky eater Anna is, but somehow still managed to satisfy everyone in our pizza choices.

I turned 18, which greatly benefited my ultimate frisbee skills, as you can clearly see in the photo above.

I discovered that Benjamin was born in the wrong decade, for he clearly is a flower child at heart.

I found peace and comfort in early morning hours spent at the temple.

May:

In May I ran a half marathon on a whim. And when I say on a whim, I really mean on a whim. I was informed that a friend had an extra spot the night before--so I took it, won my age division, and ran 7 more miles to make it the 20-mile training run I needed that day.

I fought the most epic and raging Nerf gun battle that has ever graced this planet we call Earth.

And the day that I had been painfully longing for since January finally came--it was the day that I no longer needed "Pomp and Circumstance" as my ringtone to get me out of bed, it was the day of my graduation! Which, of course, includes our flash mob to "Don't Stop Believing" and the senior all-night party, followed by the symbolic hiking of the Y--moving on to bigger and better things.

June:

Two significant things happened this month:

1. I ran my marathon! It was a bit of a family event--aunt, uncle, and mom ran the full; grandma and other aunt ran the half. If ever you are looking for a fantastic marathon, the Utah Valley Marathon is where it's at. Among the most enjoyable 3:59.18 of my 19th year.

2. I went hiking with Stephanie. We started a blog together, which neither of us have touched in months.

Also, I started working full time as depicted by the trash can overflowing with paper edges that I ripped off all day long.

July:

I sent my family off to their new home in Connecticut in July.

I moved in with my aunt and uncle, and my life was composed of three main activities:

1. Work

2. Driving to and from places

3. Experiencing the great outdoors via running and hiking

Also, I attended the same rodeo twice--a decision I absolutely do not regret.

August:

In August, I got to see my family's new home.

I ate some of the best ice cream known to mankind.

I traveled to New York City for the first time in my life, and saw The Lion King on Broadway. It was incredible.

I had a most wonderful visit from my most adorable and hilarious sister.

I started college.

I learned that putting an umbrella over the toilet may stop the ceiling from leaking on you, but it most certainly will not stop the floor from turning into one giant puddle.

In August, I fell in love with hearing "Come, Come Ye Saints" ringing from the bell tower every single hour.

September:

September was my first full month of college. (For your benefit, I'd like to inform you that I almost spelled "first" with a "u"--"furst." College has done me well.)

I developed a very real obsession with all things chocolate. Especially if followed by the word "syrup."

I baked waffles outside until 6:00 AM.

I ran the Dirty Dash. Now THAT was a fun run.

I attended my first BYU football game as a BYU student.

I wholeheartedly participated in an activity entitled "Mess Fest." The term "food fight" has now acquired an entirely different meaning in my vocabulary.

October:

In October, I tried out a little slacklining--with real, though limited, success.

I adored every moment of the chilly, blustery, colorful, and wet falltime season. I came home soaked from head to toe on many occasion due to the irresistible urge to splash through every puddle in sight.

I learned from Taco Bell that "big things come in big packages." Though, due to my remaining hunger after consuming the product pictured above, I determined a more accurate slogan would be "small things come in small packages" since neither the box nor the food were actually that big. But I imagine that wouldn't do much for the sales.

November:

In November, I began the internship of my dreams at Humanitarian Experience for Youth.

I finally got around to decorating my room--there are real pictures up on my wall!

I went for a run at 4:00 in the morning.

My roommate and I built a fort and we spent the night inside it.

I enjoyed a most lovely sunset.

I traveled home for the first time since school started for Thanksgiving. It was a much needed booster to get me through the rest of the semester.

December:

In December, I met Buddy the Elf. His favorite color is blue.

I studied my brains out for finals week, and learned that apparently no matter what you do, you will fail. (See above picture.)

I received some lovely gifts from caring people, including but not limited to the pictured flowers and butterscotch pull-aparts.

I went on a spontaneous trip with my dear friend Stephanie to see the Christmas lights on Temple Square.

I received letters from and wrote letters to some of my very best friends who are currently serving missions for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I finished my first semester of college, pulled off some decent grades despite a desperate effort to learn how to balance everything, and found sweet relief in traveling home for the holidays.

I built a fire from nothing but a single leftover ember and some wadded up paper.

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Thanks, 2011, for the memories, the growth, the experiences, and the life. I wouldn't trade you for anything.

And yes, I did just personify a year.

(Linking up to: Silver Lining)

Wanted

Wanted: 

Early morning running buddy

Photo Credit

Seeking a fun, positive, hardworking, enthusiastic buddy to run with in the morning. 

Desired Qualifications:

Willing to start at 5 or 5:30 AM

Willing to go long distances

Willing to train hard (i.e. speed, hills, etc.)

Will push me to go harder, but not kill me off

Good company (i.e. a pleasant personality)

Experience is preferable, but not necessary

Benefits:

Jump start your metabolism

Great start to the day

Clearer mind

Stress relief

Better quality of sleep at night

Guarantees time for exercise

Less pollution in the morning

Calves like these:

Photo Credit

Times like these:

Photo Credit

 

Plus!

A whole lot of fun and a million inside jokes brought on by the early hour.

Oh, come on, you know it's tempting. You can't deny that. I know it's a hard time to get up--I feel the pain getting out of bed too. But give it 10 or 15 minutes, and things get better. It's so worth it. You look great, you feel great, you're happier and more focused. Time is better managed, and life is more enjoyed as a result. You don't have to come every morning, you don't even have to do the entire run--I'm flexible, we can work things out. But come give it a try!

If you're interested, leave a lovely little comment below. Or you can contact me however else you know how to. The more the merrier! Also, the more of you there are, the more likely it is that I can have someone for every run. It's like a relay, except I'm the baton instead of the baton being a baton. Okay, maybe that was only funny in my head. Regardless, let me know if you'd like to join me for an exploration of the world you've never known.

And remember--you can always go back to bed when you get home.

What were you doing at 3:47?

My alarm went off at exactly 3:42 AM this morning. Upon waking up and somehow managing to stop my phone from making that horrendous, unearthly sound, I looked over at the bed next to mine to assess the depth of my dear roommate's slumber. Come to find out, the bed was empty. Not only empty, but it was still made.

At 3:42 in the morning.

In attempt to locate Shayne, I checked the couch, which was also empty and, at this point, I began to worry. Since Kessa was wide awake and getting ready for work, I asked if she knew where Shayne was, but to no avail. In one last attempt, I decided to check Iris' room--the only place left unexamined in our teeny tiny apartment.

Just as I reached for the doorknob, preparing to open the door ever-so-quietly in that way moms always do when they check on their children, I heard laughter coming from within.

Sure enough, there she was. Awake. With Iris. Awake. At (now) 3:45 in the morning. Awake as in, they hadn't gone to sleep yet.

My mind? Blown.

Regardless, Iris and Shayne soon joined Kessa and me in the kitchen, and I quickly came to the realization that our entire apartment was awake--half of us had gotten up that early, the other half had yet to go to bed at all. At 3:47 in the freaking morning. Not that I was upset, it was just...unusual. To say the least. And a little distracting--it made me late to my run with the most darling and lovely Kristen.

In hindsight, I realize that it would have done well to have a picture of the moment. After all, it's not every day that you have a spontaneous apartment gathering in your kitchen at 3:47 AM.

Born Again: Runner's Edition

I am a born-again runner--as of four o'clock this morning.

Just humor me and pretend my fingers are pointing at the clock

See?

I consider myself a runner, and have for the past five years. Day in, day out, running every day but Sundays. Sometimes just 2 miles, sometimes 26.2. I've run too many repeats to count, through too many shoes to keep track of, and far too many miles to imagine. Running, for a very long time, was my lifeline.

And then I forgot.

I could list a great number of excuses as to why I forgot, and you would likely believe them all. But if I were to be entirely honest, I would have to admit that I forgot that running saves me. I lost sight of the joy that it brings--the peace, the fulfillment. Perhaps I subconsciously forgot on purpose. Perhaps I forgot the joys so that I would forget the pains--the disappointment, the inadequacy, the self-doubt, the fear.

Still, try as I might, running would not leave my mind. It just wouldn't. School, work, internship, family, friends, stress, church, life--none could drown it out. A mixture of guilt and envy swallowed me up every time I saw a runner pass by. I found myself flipping through old cross country pictures again and again and again. I signed up for a marathon. I signed up for a half marathon. My mind may have forgotten running, but my heart sure didn't. And my heart couldn't. And it never will be able to.

Because when I run, my feet take flight--interrupted only for a moment in passing as they push off into the air once more. I am taken to newer, higher, grander places. I tap into a strength I never knew I had, and I find courage in using every last drop I can discover. I rely on the experience and support of others, I rely on myself, and I rely on the power of prayer. When I run, I not only strive for the impossible, but I achieve it. No matter how dreary or daunting the day, I can always end a run with a smile because I realize that I can do hard things.

And this morning, as I stepped into the warm glow of the streetlight, I remembered. Despite the pains of the past, the joys were overwhelming. And, as a runner, I was, and am, and ever will be born again.

Upon the Mountains

One of the greatest things about living in the mountains is that I get to enjoy them! While perusing my photographs of the past few months/years, I discovered that a large portion of them documented explorations in the hills large enough to be deemed mountains. Everything about them loudly proclaims that there is a God--for there surely is no other way something could exist that strikes the very deepest part of my soul with awe. The mountains are beautiful and I love them very much.

Technically, not a mountain.
But this hill is hard enough to count as one.

And, though I don't make a trip out of it as much as I should, I adore the fact that I can just go on a run in the mountains on a whim. I can start out fully intending to avoid all hills and, instead, get lost on a trail on a lovely frigid morning and find myself atop a mountain overlooking the most gorgeous view in attempt to find my way home. (Although, to be entirely honest, this seems to occur most often on runs with none other than the hilarious, adorable, and directionally challenged Kristen Oddette.)

And O how beautiful upon the mountains were their feet!

--Mosiah 15:15

Words cannot better describe the joy that consumes my entire being--my aching muscles, my burning lungs, my exhausted mind, and my wounded heart--when I find my feet upon the mountains. Oh, how beautiful. 

And I long to return.

It's NERF or Nothin'

This video is of Caleb and me, and must be prefaced by the fact that we both ran 20 miles earlier today. And, naturally, this is what we did to celebrate.

Let's just say that, when Robbie's NERF guns are available to us, nothing stops us. Not even 20 miles. Or couches.

To Rise Each Time You Fall

The first video is the best for the majority of the race, the second has a clearer view of the finish.

The Race

by D. H. Groberg

"Quit, give up, you're beaten!"
they shout at you and plead.
"There's just too much against you,
this time you can't succeed!"

And as I start to hang my head
in front of failure's face,
my downward fall is broken by
the memory of a race.

And hope refills my weakened will
as I recall that scene,
or just the thought of that short race
rejuvenates my being.

Children's race, young boys,
young men, how I remember well.
Excitement, sure, but also fear--
it wasn't hard to tell.

They all lined up so full of hope,
each thought to win that race
or tie for first, or if not that
at least take second place.

The fathers watched from off the side,
each cheering for his son.
And each boy hoped to show his dad
that he could be the one.

The whistle blew and off they went,
young hearts and hopes afire;
to win and be the hero there
was each young boy's desire.

And one boy in particular,
whose dad was in the crowd,
was running near the lead and thought,
"My dad will be so proud!"

But as they speeded down the field,
across a shallow dip,
the little boy who thought to win
lost his step and slipped.

Trying hard to catch himself
with hands flew out to brace,
and amid the laughter of the crowd
he fell flat on his face.

But as he fell, his dad stood up
and showed his anxious face,
which to the boy so clearly said,
"Get up and win that race."

He quickly rose, no damage done,
behind a bit, that's all,
and ran with all his might and mind
to make up for the fall.

So anxious to restore himself
to catch up and to win,
his mind went faster than his legs,
he slipped and fell again.

He wished then that he had quit before
with only one disgrace.
"I'm hopeless as a runner now,
I shouldn't try to race."

But in the laughing crowd he searched
and found his father's face.
That steady look which said again,
"Get up and win that race."

So up he jumped to try again,
ten yards behind the last.
If I'm going to gain those yards, he thought,
I've got to move real fast.

Exerting everything he had,
he regained eight or ten.
But trying hard to catch the lead,
he slipped and fell again.

Defeat, he lay there silently.
A tear dropped from his eye.
"There's no sense running anymore,
three strikes, I'm out, why try?"

The will to rise had disappeared,
all hope had fled away.
So far behind, so error prone,
a loser all the way.

"Get up," the sound echoed low.
"Get up and take your place.
You were not meant for failure here,
get up, and win the race."

With borrowed will, "Get up," it said,
"You haven't lost at all.
For winning is no more than this:
to rise each time you fall."

So up he rose to run once more,
and with his new commit
he resolved that, win or lose,
at least he shouldn't quit.

So far behind the others now,
the most he'd ever been,
still he'd give it all he had
and run as though to win.

Three times he'd fallen stumbling,
three times he'd rose again.
Too far behind to hope to win,
he still ran to the end.

They cheered the winning runner
as he cross the line first place.
Head high and proud and happy--
no falling, no disgrace.

But when the fallen youngster
crossed the line, last place,
the crowd gave him the greater cheer
for finishing the race.

And even though he came in last
with head bent low, unproud,
you would have thought he'd won the race
to listen to the crowd.

And to his dad, he sadly said,
"I didn't do too well."
"To me, you won," his father said,
"You rose each time you fell."

My favorite line? "Get up and take your place. You were not meant for failure here, get up, and win the race." We all have a purpose, we are all watched over. Our Heavenly Father is watching over each of us. Perhaps He can't remove the dips along the path that make us fall, perhaps He can't keep us focused on the ultimate goal, but He can quietly watch over us. He can gently remind us to get up, to keep going, to finish the race as best we can. He is our ultimate support. When other onlookers laugh as we trip, He gives us strength. He knows our individual potential, He knows that none of us--not one--was meant for failure. Not here. Not now. No, He wants us to win our race. To get back up, to keep running, to keep pushing, to keep trying. Until we cross that finish line, we must continue on.

And when, in time, we do cross the finish line, we will know that we did everything in our power to achieve our best. When it is all said and done, we can know that the dips did not keep us down, that distractions did not cripple us, and we can know that, despite it all, we ran until the very end. We can know that we won our race.