Running the Race

Work has been a pain in the butt lately. It seems as if nothing works correctly, and even the things that do require two or three times the work they should. The things that should be perceived as positive and successful aren't. And it's starting to spill over into everything else. And I'm tired and cranky and just waiting for the wind to change.

In other words, I am alive.

The big things--the deaths and layoffs and the various dislocations of life--are typically very difficult. They are like a football team's loss on a Sunday, and they give you a whole week to sit there and comtemplate before the next big thing happens.

But there's also part of life that's like baseball. In baseball, if you get crushed, you have to play again the next day. And if you go into a long losing streak, the joy that you should get out of playing a game for a living evaporates into a burdensome grind.

And so it is. The big stuff is hard, to be sure, but so is the daily grinding sameness that can suck the initiative and life out of you. That's how most of life is lived, with little triumphs and endless grinding defeats. And though the defeats can numb you and take away the will to push forward, it is the response to that grind that is the real key.

It isn't easy. In fact, sometimes just getting up, just smiling when you feel like taking out your frustration on the nearest offender, sometimes these things are the hardest.

In one of his letters, Paul states that he has run the race. He has done his work and now he is content with what he has done. That contentedness, if you can achieve it, that's worth the price of the grinding, numbing, endless waves. It's worth hanging on for that brief instant when it all fits together and you realize that you have lived life well.

And it's the promise of that moment that can make it easier.

At least I hope it is.