My legs felt heavy, the air was thick with humidity, and I knew almost immediately that today’s half-marathon wasn’t going to go as planned.

Today was the day to see how much fitness, speed, and stamina I gained during my grueling three months of training. I followed a half-marathon training plan created for me by the Garmin app. It went mostly well, and I was going to attempt to complete it in 1 hour and 30 minutes.

I wanted to start at 5:00 AM, so I got up at 2:30 AM to have breakfast and then went back to bed for another hour. I felt good, started my warm-up at 5:00 AM, and began my “race” at 5:30 AM. It soon became apparent that this was not going to be my day. The temperature was 26 degrees Celsius, but the humidity was a stifling 96%. My goal was to maintain an even 4:16 per kilometer pace, but I was only able to sustain that for the first four kilometers. After that, my pace dropped significantly: from kilometers 5-8 I averaged 4:28, kilometers 9-12 were 5:08, and kilometers 13-21 were 6:00.

When I realized my primary goal was out of reach, I shifted my focus. I went from my original goal of 1:30 to the Garmin goal of 1:32, then to 1:45, and finally to my last standby goal, which was simply to complete the half-marathon.

Around kilometer 14, I felt horrible and had to walk. I started considering why I do this. Would running a sub-1:30 half-marathon at my age make me a better person? Am I okay even if I don’t succeed? There’s nothing like a bit of failure or humiliation to make us consider our lives!

This made me think about my poetry challenge. What if the result is dismal (as I’ve started to realize it probably will be, given the lack of quality checks, editing, or proofreading at Bookleaf Publishing)? Would I still be okay? If I stopped writing my blog, if I lost my job, if all my friends abandoned me, if I lost all my finances, and a hundred other “if” scenarios, would I be diminished? Would it truly matter?

And then, a verse from a few days earlier came to mind: “Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will fly like eagles. They will run and not be weary, they will walk and not be faint.” I realized that this verse wasn’t about running or physical exercise at all. It’s about where you place your hope.

If my hope is in something temporary—a good time in a half-marathon, a good test result, or any other earthly thing—I am sure to be disappointed. But if my hope is truly in God, nothing can shake me. Nothing can steal my joy.

So, in that exhausted, disappointing moment, I spoke to him and placed my hope in Jesus. I am worthy in his sight. I don’t have to prove my strength to Him. I don’t have to earn his love. All my wrongdoing has been forgiven.

With renewed purpose, I started running again. I found the strength to continue and even noticed two cycle vegetable carts going at about the same speed as me. I stayed with them, and when they sped up, so did I. Eventually, they gave up and let me pass. I was sad to see them abandon the race.

This experience made me realize that a real race with other competitors, on-course support, and the added adrenaline of an event would have been a better setting to test my strength. I will try to run something in South Africa when my son and I go there at the end of September. The Cape Town Marathon is on October 19th. Maybe I can do that?

Ultimately, I am so thankful for today’s run and for the powerful reminder not to place my hope in anything other than the Lord.