Seven Weeks

A month ago, I was supposed to be standing at the starting line of the Quad Rock 50.

Instead, I was standing in a different place.

In the weeks leading up to race day, life became unexpectedly complicated. Family needs rose to the surface. My dad underwent heart surgery. My wife suffered a serious fall that resulted in a hospital stay and a long recovery. Priorities became clear.

The race could wait.

Months of training had prepared me well. I had completed some of the strongest long runs of my life and felt ready for the challenge ahead. Yet there are seasons when faithfulness looks less like pursuing a goal and more like being fully present for the people God has entrusted to us.

So I stepped away.

I won’t pretend there wasn’t disappointment. There was.

But over the past month, I have also discovered something important: fitness can be rebuilt, races can be rescheduled, and opportunities can come again. The people we love cannot always wait.

Recently, I was given the opportunity to defer my entry to the Never Summer 100K on July 25.

When I received that news, I felt something stirring deep inside me.

Not because I need another race.

Not because I have something to prove.

But because I realized I have seven weeks in front of me.

Seven weeks to train.

Seven weeks to heal.

Seven weeks to pray.

Seven weeks to become more attentive to the voice of God.

Hebrews 12:1–3 says:

“Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross...”

For years, I have discovered that running is rarely about running.

The trail has become a sanctuary.

A place of prayer.

A place of surrender.

A place where distractions fade and God’s presence often feels closer than it does amid the noise of everyday life.

These next seven weeks are not primarily about preparing for a 100K.

They are about pursuing wholeness.

I want my mornings to begin in Scripture before they begin with notifications.

I want to spend time reflecting on the suffering of Christ and the freedom His sacrifice purchased for me.

I want to trust God with outcomes rather than obsess over them.

I want to learn again that my worth is not tied to a finish line, a pace, or a race result.

The work ahead will require effort.

There will be miles to run, hills to climb, strength to build, and discipline to maintain.

But I’ve learned something over the years: the right kind of work often creates freedom.

The discipline of training creates space.

The sacrifice of comfort creates strength.

The habit of prayer creates peace.

The practice of surrender creates joy.

I am also aware that this journey does not belong only to me.

Rhonda’s recovery remains a priority. The past several weeks have reminded us how fragile life can be and how quickly plans can change.

My hope is that this season does not pull me away from the people I love but instead helps me become more present for them. The goal is not escape. The goal is renewal.

I want to emerge from these seven weeks healthier in body, steadier in spirit, and more attentive to God than I am today.

And if, by God’s grace, I find myself standing on the starting line of Never Summer on July 25, I hope the greatest victory won’t be completing a race.

I hope it will be becoming the kind of man who has spent seven intentional weeks walking closely with Jesus.

That is a finish line worth pursuing.