If you only got one shot

If you only got one life

If time was never on our side

Before I die I want to burn out bright

One of my favorite Switchfoot lyrics resonates with me today as I log another hour on the treadmill. I just learned a few years back that the term for my (permanent) CIDP remission is called “burnout.” I have no idea where the term came from, but I suppose it means there are others like me who have recovered. Needless to say, I am determined to burn out; to shine my light as a witness to my faith. To use my body to glorify the One who healed me-who gave me another chance.

Looking out at the snow-covered mountain that I’m always running toward, but never catch, I’m happy to be training inside today. Winter has come back with a vengeance, and I need to get in some miles before my first spring race in April. At least I only have to do a few today.

A few months ago, one of my racing buddies asked me to do the One City Marathon with her in Newport News, VA. That race was today. The thought of long runs in the Pennsylvania winter just didn’t sound appealing enough to sign up for a 26.2 mile race in the spring. Actually, the thought of a full marathon intimidates me ANY time of the year…but that’s a story for another blog post.

I finished my slow 4.5 miles, swam laps for a while and picked up a few groceries before heading for home. As I glanced back to the aforementioned mountain, I saw a flash of white fly by. Although I’m not certain, I thought it could have been an eagle, headed toward the river. Yet another reminder of how much I’ve been blessed. I’ve been given wings to run and not grow weary!

Upon my return home, I received some sobering news: the 36-year-old daughter of my childhood neurologist suddenly passed away. I didn’t know his family…in fact, I was unaware that he had a daughter my age. He had relocated to New Jersey years ago, and his daughter lived in Brooklyn, but her obituary had made the Sun Gazette. Even though I felt sorrow at the news of his loss, I was glad to read that he was still practicing neurology. He is definitely one of the reasons I am still alive.

None of us know how long we have left on this planet. I’ve had several friends and loved ones pass way, way too soon. I’ve also seen others beat stage 4 cancer, and are still alive and well. Life is unpredictable.

The future is a question mark

Of kerosene, electric sparks

There’s still fire in you yet

Yeah there’s still fire in you…

When you reach life’s finish line, can you say you’ve given the race all you’ve got?