Last week, Nate and I went for a run at a local park.
Well, for one, he is a lot better runner than I am. If I run a mile without walking, I consider that success. He used to run cross country. He is just built like a runner and it comes a lot easier to him than it does to me.
We had gone about halfway around the park when my lack of activity for the last six months caught up with me. My throat felt raw, and my lungs were tight as a I tried to breathe. I stopped and walked for a few steps before Nate looked back at me.
"You can make it to the car," he said.
He told me I wasn't going to get any better if I just gave up. So I sucked it up and continued running with him.
I am 100 percent sure that if he hadn't been there, I would have walked the rest of the time. I was tired and it was hard, and I was not going to keep going.
Today, I was listening to a sermon on the radio that talked about running the race and how we should push through. That if the beginning is hard, we have to run even harder to the finish line.
In order to do that though, we have to have help. Alone, we'll give up when running gets too hard. I need support from Nate to not only get through running but to keep running the race in life as well.