Today I ran. Ran again. Ran some more. One last time to top it all off.
I ran twelve miles to church today. I literally ran to the front door of church. Walked in as opening worship was wrapping up. I had my sweaty running clothes on, Austin’s camelback running pack, and blonde hairs pulled up into what once was a neat braid.
I tried to be polite and sit in the back of the church. One sweet man in the same row kept eyeing me with curiosity. The beauty of his looks was that they were not judgmental, simply intrigued.
It was a lovely service. I got a lot out of the message and felt at home. Church should feel like home.
At the end of service my friend with the curious looks inquired about the hydration pack. He said, “I have never seen anyone bring a camelback to church before.” I smiled and explained the situation. He blessed me with the wish that the rest of my run was to be all that I needed it to be.
When the applause for the last song died out I decided to slip out the back. I threw on the pack and began to put one step in front of the other. For the remaining eight miles I could not help but smile and feel absolutely full of the Lord’s sweet spirit. I kept thinking how Bridgepoint Church is a lovely place; a place to feel at home. In some cases it might even be considered to be the best aid station a runner could hope for.