Rugged Maniac Life

I stood at the base of a muddy, ten foot tall wall catching my breath and waiting my turn for the filthy knotted rope to assist my ascent. My red and black tie-dyed shirt, that I had Pinterest-ly cut into an adorable y-back tank, clung to me wet and muddy. I wiped my shoes, that had been soaked while navigating over obstacles in waist deep murky water, on the grass hoping to gain a bit more traction for the climb. Encouragement and advice rained down from above where my friend Allison, whose nearly six foot frame is all legs, had mounted gracefully. I knew it wasn’t going to be pretty but I was determined to push myself through.

I had already survived two miles of rugged terrain and muddy obstacles with a little over a mile still to go. I had climbed, crawled, balanced, swam, and run my way to this point, the piece de resistance of the Rugged Maniac Race: the “Sui-slide.” A ten foot wall followed by a fifteen foot cargo net climb to the top of a giant, black plastic covered water slide of glory.

I grasp the rope with both hands working to find a comfortable grip and it hits me that maybe this race is the most perfect metaphor for life I have ever experienced. (Seriously people, this is the kind of stuff that happens when you’re an introverted contemplative that writes; I’m really not creative enough to make this stuff up). Anyway, Hebrews 12:1-2 came to mind:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.

I’ve typically heard this verse in context of a life is a marathon not a sprint teaching. Which is true, but in real life a marathon sounds so awful I’ve never had any desire to attempt one. For me, running is just so boring. And like I said, I kind of tend to live all up in my head so when I’m bored all I can think about is how much “this sucks” and “I don’t want to do it” and “why am I doing this again” and “yeah that is not a good enough reason” and then I quit.  Runners, please don’t write me emails about the mythical runner’s high you all claim I will eventually reach where my body finds some magical rhythm that propels me almost effortlessly. I have never discovered that mystical place nor do I intend to run far enough to find it.

So, obviously, the whole marathon illustration has never quite sunk in before, except to remind me that life is super long and seems more difficult than I am capable of (so don’t give up!). An obstacle course, however, in a weird way is easier for me in that it breaks up some of the mental battle. By the time I tough my way through one obstacle I’m looking ahead for the next and my physical training is really able to push to the forefront.

Life as an obstacle course also seems to be on par with my experience. You slide down into a muddy pit and have to claw your way up the steep bank and back to solid ground; temptation slips you down into a mucky pit of sin and you have to fight your way back out. You face a dark tunnel that seems impossible, being extremely claustrophobic, and decide to avoid it, but end up looking back on the experience and wondering what would have been if you had decided to push through it. You struggle your way over an eight foot wall only to find another wall on the other side.

It’s not all difficulty requiring Herculean efforts though, and neither is life. There’s the laughter and camaraderie in running with close friends. The feeling of connection to the body of racers just as crazy as you were to sign up for this; like the church body united in fellowship with pursuit of a common goal. The exhilaration of discovering you’re more capable than you had realized. The hope of the finish line and the after-party and an ice cold beer shared in celebration of life well run.

It’s twisting your ankle before you start, nearly pulling a muscle climbing, scraping your legs bloody on rocks in the mud pit and continuing to race anyway. Striving to be like Jesus, our ultimate example, who through keeping focused on the joy before him endured something far more horrific than we will ever have to face. We turn up our mud spattered faces from the difficulties at hand and see Him looking at us eyes blazing in glory and we find the deep courage He has placed in us to get our work well done.

To say in confidence with the Apostle Paul, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Timothy 4:7).

Much to the chagrin of the chiseled guy struggling to gain purchase next to me, I made it up that muddy wall unassisted after only a couple tries. I even got to help pull up a friend who began to lose traction nearly at the top. We made it up the rough, swaying cargo net one hand and foot hold at a time. And I stood in exaltation for a moment at the top, looking over the rest of the course, catching glimpses of the giant obstacles to come, and I chose to slide down with abandon back into the rugged maniac life.

That’s me in the middle. 🙂 Don’t give up on your race, friends! We are promised the work will be more than worth it. Are there any obstacles are you currently facing in your journey to knowing Him more?