The Last Shall Be First: The Unexpected Delight of Finishing Last
This feels like the right time to tell you about the time my husband, mother-in-law, and father-in-law all beat me in a race. It’s not that I was surprised not to be the fastest, it’s just that I didn’t expect to be so slow.
“Fast” is not a word anyone has used to describe me. In elementary school, I’d spend the night before our PE mile run test laying in my bed, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding, stomach filled with dread. I don’t think I ever passed it and by 7th grade I stopped trying.
I knew for certain that my husband, Jeff, would beat me in this race. He’s built for it, long and wiry. When he runs, he runs like a runner. When I run, I just look uncomfortable. I’m built differently. With tree trunk thighs and short everything. I’m more comfortable on a trail or with weights in my hands.
But running a half marathon was something I wanted to do, something to prove to myself that with commitment and a lot of training, I could do this thing.
I should tell you that the 2017 Flying Pig wasn’t the first half marathon I signed up for. It was at least the 3rd, but it was the first one I actually showed up for and the first one I finished.
Anyway, I trained every week for six months. I trained when it was cold. I trained when it was hot. I trained on the days I felt great and I trained on the days I was so tired I could barely tie my shoes.
What I lacked in running prowess, I made up for in discipline.
After six months of training, it was race day.
Jeff went ahead to corral with the faster runners while his parents and I stayed back with a slower group. I only saw him once, briefly, for the whole race. At the sound of the starting gun, Jeff’s dad ran ahead and that left his mom and me to run together. To my horror, she wanted to chat while we ran. I wanted to put my head down, listen to my music and put one foot in front of the other until I either passed out or crossed the finish line. So we chatted for a few miles until we started to tire. After a few minutes of running quietly side by side, I adjusted my ear buds and hit play on my phone.
When I looked up she was gone. A little panicked, I scanned the crowd debating whether to slow down and look around or to keep going, praying all the while that she was okay. It turns out, she just kicked it into gear and left me to eat her dust. She and Jeff and Jeff’s dad were all waiting when I crossed the finish line.
Mary Beth Keenan, @mb_keenan.15
The thing about losing is: she who finishes last receives the biggest welcome.
I often forget that truth when it comes to my spiritual life.
I see the families around me at Mass who take up less space with five kids than we do with two. The familes whose kids sit quietly while mine eat Goldfish and ask if it’s time to go home yet. I see women who pray the rosary FROM MEMORY while I have to consult my prayer cards. These things and more make it easy to feel like I’m falling behind in every possible way, like they’re running 8 minute miles while I limp through 100 yards.
Isaiah 40:31 reminds us:
“they that hope in the LORD will renew their strength, they will soar on eagles’ wings; They will run and not grow weary, walk and not grow faint.”
I find his words comforting, don’t you?
There are days I don’t want to pack up the diaper bag and haul my crew to Mass.
There are weeks when getting out of bed to start my day early with prayer feels as hard as running a half marathon.
I wonder if any of it matters, if my kids are absorbing anything more than fruit snacks at Mass, if my prayers are heard, if God even cares.
What I’m saying is that I get weary.
And so, if you’re weary, if you feel like your pace is too slow, if taking that next step toward God feels almost impossible, I want to offer you the lyrics to one of my favorite songs, Try A Little Tenderness by Otis Redding.
“Oh she may be weary
Them young girls they do get wearied
Wearing that same old shaggy dress, yeah, yeah
But when she gets weary
Try a little tenderness, yeah, yeah”
In a world full of loud voices with big opinions, we have a tender God.
In the words of Fr. Gregory Boyle, “God is constantly interested in lavishing us with extravagant tenderness, and yet we are convinced that God is thinking we could all just do a better job… The God we’ve settled for is red in the face and pretends he doesn’t know us at parties. But the God we actually have is never embarrassed by us… We ask ourselves, what can move the dial on God’s love for us? Nothing. It is always at its highest setting.”
God doesn’t need you to train harder or run faster or be better. He’s too busy looking for you in the crowd, waiting to cheer you across the finish line.
Meet Krista Steele
Krista is a therapist, writer and homemaker based in Columbus, Ohio where she lives with her husband, Jeff and their children. She never leaves the house without a book and always adds a bouquet of flowers to her Trader Joe’s cart. If Krista had a rule of life it would be Mary Oliver’s words: “Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.”