Can You Hear Them?

Runner after exhausted runner came around the bend under the railroad bridge and pushed up the hill.

Ears stung in the frigid wind, while rolling sweat felt more like ice water splashed on chapped faces.

Yet they forced feet forward, one at a time, hoping the top of the hill would meet them soon.

I watched.

I listened.

And I took notes.

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I’ve had the privilege to join my friend Elizabeth on a couple of road races. To be clear, what I mean by join is park the car, carry the stuff, try to get a picture or two along the way and then somehow get to the finish line before her.

I’m the one off to side, camera in one hand, device in the other, much more an awkward bystander than a runner, runner wannabe or even enthusiastic supporter.

But those enthusiastic supporters, oh my. Folks position themselves all along the race route with a solitary purpose:  cheer the runners on.

At some locations they give some direction. 10k to the right, 5k to the left!

But mostly, they come out to spur the runner’s endurance.

Doing great, doing great!

It’s not a big hill, just a little bump. It’ll level off soon.

Here they come!

Woo hoo!

Good job, Dave! Great race!

Way to get up that hill!

You’re almost there!

Havin’ fun now, aren’t we?

You got it, you got it!

You’re going the right direction.

Keep going!

Come on up!

Push up, guys! Push up!

Way to take this hill!

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Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. (Hebrews 12:1-3)

The witnesses stationed along the way become nothing less than a great cloud of witnesses who pushed the runners along.

This great cloud of witnesses. They stand perched on the roadside all day long. They see us bearing down as we come around the bend. They see us veering to the right when we should be going to the left. They see us pushing, striving, reaching for the top of the hill.

Can you hear them?

They know this race. They’ve run it. They know the hills, the puddles, the curves, the cracks, the fallen trees.

They’ve run, and they’ve finished.

Can you hear them?

They call out to us, sometimes by name. And they remind us: Just a little further! Great race! Push up!

These who have gone before us, they surround us.

Can you hear them?

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As I waited for my friend, running the 10k, to round the bend, I watched a woman labor up the hill, likely the last of the 5k runners. She didn’t come with the usual runner’s physique, notably early in her running and perhaps her exercising career.

Her face reflected pain with each burdened step. She forced herself to move in running form, pumping weary arms and wrenching knees up, though by now she would gain more ground by simply walking. At times she didn’t appear to move forward an inch for all her effort.

And she had more of the race in front of her than she had yet run.

One from that great cloud spoke to her.

“Are you doing ok?” he asked.

Between painful breaths, she rasped, “I only . . . want to finish.”

He encouraged her forward where others also stood along the path. They cheered her on as she reached them, then sent her along to the next.

Since she was surrounded, the voices continued to strengthen her as she took each next step.

One more little hill.

You’re almost there!

You’re doing great!

Keep going!

Can you hear them?

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This weekend, friend and fellow blogger Jennifer Lee runs the race of her life. She’s trained these last months for a half marathon, working through exhaustion, doubt and injury to help find a cure for leukemia. In the midst of her training, over at her place, Jennifer — yeah, a hero — said this of her journey:

I’m no hero.

And I’m not really a runner. Not really …

I’ve never felt like a runner. I certainly don’t look like a runner. And I don’t even run like a runner.

But guess what? I am running – not for myself, but for the real heroes: the ones who battle cancer.

But I’m no hero. I’m just putting one foot in front of another to raise money for the real heroes: the children who’ve lost their hair, for the ones who’ve been doubled over with pain, for the families who’ve gathered around the hospice bed to say goodbye.

Along with other members of the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training, I’m running for a cure.

And I’m running for Jesus.

I’m reposting this one from the archives to cheer Jennifer on this weekend. Would you join in and whoop along the way for her as well? Drop her a note here.

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Photo (top): Jogging, Iwan Beijes

Photo (bottom): Jennifer gearing up