Faith
Deo Volente — Chattanooga
Hold tightly to the purpose. Hold the plan with open hands.
By the time I got off the bike in Chattanooga, my knee felt fine.
That mattered because before the race there had been plenty of uncertainty about whether it would hold together at all.
The swim was done. The bike was done.
Now there was only a marathon between me and the finish line.
Only.
At mile seven, my right hamstring cramped severely.
So much for worrying about the knee.
For the next several miles, the race became negotiation. Move. Adjust. Walk when necessary. Keep the body from turning one problem into three.
By around mile thirteen, the hamstring began to loosen.
The race was still hard.
But the possibility returned.
Somewhere in that season I had come across a Latin phrase in a devotional:
Deo Volente.
God willing.
The phrase became important to me because it held two truths together.
Preparation matters.
And control is limited.
I could train. Fuel. Recover. Study the course. Show up. Make good decisions.
I could do my part.
I could not command the outcome.
That is uncomfortable for somebody who likes plans.
Around mile twenty-four, the crowd grew louder. The finish was close enough to feel real.
A man along the course looked at me and said:
"Congratulations. You did it."
Something broke open.
I started crying.
Not because the race was officially over. It was not.
But because for a long time the whole journey had included questions about whether I should even be there. The injury. The uncertainty. The changing plan. The miles where the body argued back.
And now, for the first time that day, I let myself believe I was going to finish.
I used to hear God's will and imagine certainty about the outcome.
I think about it differently now.
Deo Volente is not a guarantee that my preferred plan happens.
It is a posture.
Hold tightly to the purpose. Hold the plan with open hands.
I will train. I will prepare. I will show up. I will do everything I can.
And I will hold the outcome with open hands.
Deo Volente.
God willing.
I do not always know what the next mile looks like.
I have learned to be okay with that.
Hold tightly to the purpose. Hold the plan with open hands.