When I was in 7th grade I decided to run track. I tried football, but my small school in the sticks of South Arkansas did not have pads and helmets small enough to fit me. That made for a terrible football experience. I remember specifically one practice where the coach told me to run out 15 yards and then turn quickly and catch the ball. As I ran out and counted off 15 yards I turned my head to see the oncoming ball. The helmet was so big on my head that it did not turn all the way with my head. So since I could not see anything I most certainly did not see the football coming at me. Like I said, not a good experience.
I tried out basketball. Skinny white kid of average height. I know, I know, get to know the fundamentals. Learn to dribble the ball, pass, and shoot the ball. Well, no excuses. I just wasn't a good basketball player. I had plenty of time "riding the pine". The only time I actually got any playing time was when our team was either ahead by 50 points or behind by 50 points and the game was almost over. At that point there really wasn't anything I could do to influence the game in a negative way. Oh yeah? Well I made it my mission to leave my mark. Once there was only a minute left on the clock and my name was called up by the coach, I was in. My mission was clear; It wasn't to score 100 points to win the game, or to assist the guy that could. No, mine was much more sinister. I was going to foul out in a minute or less. Sometimes it worked and sometimes I only made the other players mad. Oh well, I gotta be me.
But you see, the problem was, I wasn't being me!
Let me explain. My brother, older than me by 4 years, was great at every sport he played. I grew up with my father telling me I had more natural talent than my brother. God bless my dad, he was great at encouraging me and speaking good and positive things into me, but more natural talent? Surely he was mistaken. I had plotted my course to follow in my brother's footsteps and do what he did well. You read previously how football and basketball went - not good. In our small school the only thing left was to run track. How hard could this be? All you had to do was run. Run! I was a younger brother - of course I knew how to run! I had been training for this my whole life running from an older brother! Now, what I haven't told you is that my brother was great at running the 800 meter, or for the layman, the half mile. In fact, the last 3 years of high school he made it to the state track meet and placed either 1st or 2nd each time! It occurred to me and the other coaches that Kevin Morrison's younger brother would be great at the half mile also.
I hated it. It was two full laps around the track and they were murder. I started running that race every year starting in 7th grade all the way through my sophomore year. Each year was terrible. I never did any good in that stupid race.
Fast forward to my junior year in High School. As a family we had moved to a new state and therefore a new school. Of course when track season came around I joined the team and guess what race I told the coach I wanted to run? Yep, the 800 meter. Why? That was all I knew, all I had ever run. I wasn't good at it but it was familiar and I had become comfortable being less than mediocre. Well this year all my friends were sprinters and after I would do my 800 workout I would join up with them and run the sprint workouts just for fun. After all, it was just a short distance. I also practiced with them the hand-offs for the relay when one of their team members had to be out or do something else.
I will never forget the track meet in Branson that season. It was probably about the 3rd meet of the season and I had been bugging coach to let me change races so that I could run with my friends and do sprints. He'd told me no because we had all the sprinters we needed and he wanted me to run the 800. Anyway, we were at the Branson meet and one of the sprinters on the relay team sprained his ankle. All my friends looked at me and asked me to replace him. We would obviously have to clear this with coach. We ran up the bleachers and begged him to let me run with the relay team. He was resistant at first, but realizing that he did not want the team to have to forfeit all of the relay races that night, he gave in and told me I could fill in on the second leg of the relay but just for that night. We ran down to the field and did a last minute practice run with our hand-offs to make sure we could pull it off. When it cam time for the race we all lined up and the butterflies went crazy in my stomach. I was totally used to track meets but this was different. I was excited to run. I didn't have that feeling of dread, knowing that I was going to be terrible and lose. I had something to prove here, something to win for. Well the gun went off that the race begin. I remember standing on the other side of the field watching our first leg runner race around the corner coming towards me to hand off the baton. This was real. This was really happening and I was going to have to take off in a matter of seconds. It all comes down to this. I had to concentrate, take off at just the right time and give it my all. The runner hit the mark I had established and I turned to face down the track and took off. Half a second later I heard him shout "Hand!" and I shot out my left hand behind my back to receive the baton as he handed the race to me. I grabbed it and ran on my toes as hard as I could for 100 yards. The whole time there was no one beside me - we were winning! I handed off the baton perfectly and then watched the remaining two legs of our relay team as they brought us a first place. What was this? We won? We won! I had been part of this and we won! I ran across the field to the finish line and rejoiced with my teammates. When I found out our times I learned that I had run a faster time that the sprinter I replaced! What was this?! I was actually good at something, and a sporting event at that! I ran up to the bleachers, looked at my coach who had been watching and said, "Can I run sprints now?!" He slowly nodded his head with a sly grin and said yes.
Now, you've read through that whole story just so I could tell you this - The whole time up until then, for the previous 4 years, I had been running someone else's race. I had not been running my race. I had not searched out where I was supposed to be. I had just assumed that what someone else had done before me was exactly what I was supposed to do. And because of that I had not reached my potential. I had become comfortable with being less that mediocre and accepted that as my fate. It wasn't until I had stepped into my own race and actually started running it did I realize what my race was. Then I was able to find joy and a sense of accomplishment in the race that I ran.
Let me ask you: Are you running someone else's race? Have you settled for less than mediocre? Do you need to start running your own race today?
