One of my favorite analogies for life is a race. That poem by my uncle Dee that used to get quoted all the time in Sacrament Meeting has always given me strength– in order to be successful, we just have to get up each time we fall. Racing as a metaphor for life makes sense to me because I have about 20 years of personal experience with racing. Each time I race, I feel like the Lord teaches me something important.
This is me yesterday. I’m finishing the Ogden Half Marathon. (I know, it’s lame. I’ll run a full marathon asap.) My parents and my recently-returned missionary sister Lauren all drove up to Ogden with me on Friday afternoon, and we went to a nice Thai restaurant for dinner.
As we were eating, the topic of her new boyfriend came up. I expressed how frustrated I was that both she and our cousin Haley, who went on their missions at 19 and both got boyfriends almost immediately after returning, seemed to be getting all the blessings I wanted, way faster than me. I couldn’t go on my mission until I was 21, I’ve been home for 3 years, and I don’t have a boyfriend.
It’s not a race to get married first, or make the most money, or have the most degrees, or travel to the most places, or have the most kids. It’s a race against sin. We’re all running it together, and our Coach has asked us to help each other get home.