Monday, May 18, 2015

Ending With a Whimper: Beginning With Prayer

It wasn't what I worked for but it was what I got. Ironman week was a stress fest on several levels and got worse when I jerked my bad leg avoiding traffic, twisted on my bad knee, and pulled that leg from hip through hamstring to heel. My chances for finishing got even slimmer.

A walk to the finish line area the night before was the clincher. I would never see it. I knew it. There was a tightness in my chest. My breathing was restricted. My chest felt like it was full of fizz or something. I felt out of control. Back at the room, it became even worse: belching constantly; Excedrin did no good at all for the throbbing headache and I could not sit still. I was a mess.

All night long I wrestled with the shortness of breath, the tightness in my chest, and a few times I broke out into a heavy sweat. My wife cooled me down with wet towels and I tried to sleep. What is wrong with me? Finally, the wake up call, but I did not get up. I was sick, tired, and scared. I did not start.

After all I have been brought through, this is how it ended: sort of with a whimper. My heart and head down, I went to get my bike and gear bags. Coming back a nice lady saw me going the wrong way to participate and she asked what was wrong. Sick, I told her. She asked was I going to be OK and I told her I hope so.

"What is your name? I will pray for you." In the midst of my worst day, God is still in my life; God is still God. God still cares. I had met His messenger and she had prayed for me: I could feel the prayers. It will be OK.