I can still hardly believe it. After months—and, truthfully, years—of mental preparation, casual stretching, and many sincere thoughts about getting in shape, I finally completed my first triathlon. Like many of life’s milestones, it reminded me that finishing well often begins long before the starting line.
For anyone unfamiliar with the sport, a triathlon is a demanding endurance event that combines swimming, cycling, and running in sequence—for people who apparently tried one exhausting activity and thought, “Why stop there?” It also offers a useful picture of the Christian life: one stage at a time, one step of faith after another.
Races range from Sprint and Olympic distances to Half-Ironman and Full-Ironman events. Even the transitions—from the water to the road to the final stretch—can make or break the day. In the same way, life’s transitions often test our patience, faith, and ability to keep moving when the path changes.
On race day, I slept well, stretched thoroughly, and prepared myself for the challenge ahead. I even took a deep breath, which I believe counts as cardio when done with enough conviction—and perhaps as prayer when done with enough gratitude.
This was not merely a race against the clock. It would require strategy, stamina, courage, and sound decision-making. Like all great triathlons—and many walks of faith—it began with the water portion.
THE SWIM. I started with twenty intense minutes in the jacuzzi, where the jets roared like a determined washing machine. The pressure pounded my arms and legs as the currents pushed against me. I stayed mostly upright, though a few near-slips required the recovery skills of a seasoned aquatic professional and the quiet mercy of God.
This is where many competitors lose focus. One moment they are athletes; the next, they are relaxed procrastinators leaning into the bubbles and questioning whether goals are really necessary. Comfort is a subtle opponent, and it rarely announces itself as a threat.
But I refused to let comfort win. Warm water, therapeutic bubbles, and the temptation to declare it “recovery day” would not defeat me. My eyes were fixed on a greater prize.
This day demanded more than relaxation. It called for discipline, focus, and the determination usually reserved for opening a stubborn pickle jar. The Lord often uses ordinary moments to remind us that perseverance matters.
THE BIKE. With the water portion complete, I sprang from the tub, grabbed a towel, preserved the dignity expected of an elite competitor, and hurried to my ride. I chose the four-wheel version for the grueling three-mile journey to Braum’s.
To preserve precious time, I used the drive-thru, a tactical decision that separated me from the amateurs. I ordered a double-dip hot fudge sundae with pecans and displayed remarkable discipline to save time by skipping the extra whipped cream. Self-control, after all, is a fruit of the Spirit.
Then came one of the most difficult portions of the race: carefully balancing the plastic dish during the final lap home without losing a single pecan. This required faith, focus, and both hands firmly committed to the mission.
This is where lesser competitors give in to temptation. Some would park, sit, and refuel right there in the Braum’s lot. Others might panic and request a spoon immediately. But I would not take the easy way out. It was Ironman or Rust—and I was determined to press on toward the goal.
THE RUN. The final leg was a brutal race against the summer heat. I moved swiftly from the car to the house, carrying the sundae like an Olympic torch made of hot fudge, fragile hope, and the kind of urgency that makes a person pray without ceasing.
I reached my chair before disaster struck, settled into position, and completed the Ironman portion with a spoon, a smile, and the quiet confidence of a champion who knows every good and perfect gift comes from above.
With deep satisfaction, I quoted the Author and Finisher of the most important race in life: “It is finished!” In my case, this applied both spiritually and to the sundae, though only one of those victories was eternal.
Official time: 2:08 PM.
TRAINING MAY BE OVERRATED.
Fulfillment, however, is what keeps me motivated.
True fulfillment is never found merely in crossing a finish line or finishing dessert, but in walking faithfully with the One who gives strength for every mile of the lifelong race.
I do not mean to sound boastful. Not everyone has the inner strength, refined athletic instincts, or coordination skills required to complete a triathlon of this magnitude.
Still, I feel compelled to share a few lessons to encourage you in your own race of faith.
Keep your eyes on the prize. Always do your best. Never quit. Run with endurance the race set before you, even when the course is not what you expected.
And if your earthly prize happens to come with hot fudge and pecans, receive it with thanksgiving—but remember that the greatest reward is found in Christ.
Begin slowly. You might start with a warm bath, a short shower, or perhaps simply standing near a lake and thinking athletic thoughts. Braum’s even offers one-dip cones that can be safely enjoyed in the car by beginners.
The important thing is to start where you are and trust God with the next faithful step.
Do not worry about the clock at first; the goal is to finish with joy, gratitude, and, if possible, without dripping ice cream on your shirt.
Faithfulness is measured less by speed than by obedience.
Whatever you do, enjoy the journey, laugh along the way, keep your eyes on Jesus, and give all the glory to God.
LOVE FIRST...LOVE MOST 