Following is an article published in the May 31-June 6 “Focus.” I hope it’s helpful. -Dave

HOW WILL I CHOOSE TO FAIL?

Our human nature seeks the simplest formulas of success and ethics. Our childhood stories are full of the triumph of good over evil. We long for the words, “and they lived happily ever after.” Most cultures have proverbs that with quick wit lay out principles of success. Virtues such as honesty, hard work, and creativity are portrayed as the path to success. Yet life is more complex than the simple moralism of childhood stories. We quickly learn that life does not always follow the rules. At times our best efforts simply result in failure. These discoveries can turn the idealistic romantic into a bitter cynic.

Worse yet, they may drive the idealist to a deep corruption of one’s soul. If virtue is not rewarded, what is the point? Why should one strive to excel? Is honesty really the best policy? As we survey middle-aged ethical failures we find that many times their youth was filled with idealism. Their early choices were radical ones seeking to make an impact upon their world. For a season their idealism was filled with an undying hope. Then their hope was interrupted by senseless failure.

Several weeks ago, a student asked me the question, “What if I pray to God, study hard, and still fail an exam?” Had God abandoned him in his failure?

But for our young idealist worse than his failure was watching the success of others who succeeded through craftiness and deceit. Our young idealist must come to terms with his failures of event. Life is not measured simply by the marks upon an exam.

My life seems filled with stories of failure whose only purpose appears to be teachable moments. Last week, I lived out another parable of life. Running is one of my coping mechanisms. Without it the physical pain of life takes me back to walking with a hobble. Three surgeries on my spine have taken some toll, but through exercise I find new joy and renewed strength. Besides the adrenalin release from running, many times in life running is the only variable of life I can control. With 5 children at home, I can’t even choose my hours of sleep. I’m not a big person, and the agenda of others sets my schedule. But if I arise at 5:30 and start with a run for at least an hour I am king of my life. I can go where I want, move at my own pace, reflect upon the past, dream for the future, and be the Lord of my own destiny. However, my weekday run will be interrupted by the need to drive my children to school, and by 6:30 a.m. I am again the slave of others.

Marathons fascinate me. Until last week, I had only done one. In my youth, I feared them. As I’ve gotten older they seem more appropriate teaching mechanisms for a middle age man’s character development. The sprints of my youth are over. Life has taken a toll. Any event requiring agility, coordination, and speed will simply turn me into community comic relief. But through pace and perseverance a good finish to life is still possible.

Last year as I lived in Oklahoma I ran the Oklahoma City Marathon. It seemed an appropriate run in my late 30’s. Also, it seemed like the best way I could honor the memory of 168 innocent people who lost their lives in the 1995 Oklahoma City terrorist bombing. A marathon requires 4 months of good training. My training was interrupted by a flu that lasted a month, and I ran at least 5 kilos over an ideal weight. As I finished the marathon, I came away convinced I could do better and was eager to try again.

I hoped last week’s Kigali Peace Marathon would give me a second opportunity. I began training 6 months prior to the event. I gradually increased my distances of weekly long runs from 8 miles to 22 miles. I worked on pace. I planned for water breaks. With 3 weeks to go I was confident I was well prepared, and would finish the marathon with pride. I knew I’d be a long ways from the winner, but would be able to joke that I was the first person who survived 3 back surgeries to finish this marathon. Then an unpredictable of life happened. Flu hit my family. It moved from child to child. With each new infection, I secretly hoped that it would not hit me. A small voice inside me thought maybe I should just hide from the sick kids, and add extra parenting to Jana’s schedule. Finally, it caught me. I hacked and coughed without ceasing. I tried everything I could to recover – rest, medicine, and lots of fluids. But at race day the cough still lingered. I tried my best, but after just a short distance of running could not catch a breath. I pushed on hoping that I’d get through it, but just became fainter. Finally, at 6 miles I called it quits. I could not run any farther. I watched as those I knew I was faster than over took me. My pride was badly damaged. For about two days, I did not want to see anyone.

I was shocked at how much emotion I had invested into the thoughts of finish and a personal best time. I even went on line looking for another marathon I could try in the next few months in cities my schedule would take me to. Surely, I had not wasted six months of training.

Then life’s teachable moment hit me. Failing at this marathon was not failing at life. Life is full of unpredictables. Sometimes they fall to our advantage. Sometimes they fall to our loss. There are many areas of life I can manage, but ultimately human frailty is my destiny. The choice of the day was to fail with grace - to find joy in the effort, to allow the training to change my character as much as my body, and to long for a day in which my frailties would be overcome in a new body.

Next year, I’ll try again. I don’t know the outcome. I hope for health. I’ll run my best, but in the end much of the outcome is beyond my abilities to influence. I may again fail in the event, but I will resolve to not fail at the course of life.

Come run with me.