teach me to love this part

Last Saturday, I ran a half-marathon trail race in Prescott, Arizona. 

My sister-in-law and I had trained for months. We’d logged the miles and spent hours in the mountains near our homes, preparing our legs for race day. Our training was spot on; we felt prepared and it was an amazing experience.

If you asked me what the hardest part of the race was, I wouldn’t say it was the first six miles with its off-road climbing or quick scrambles down the looming Granite Dells. And I wouldn’t say it was the last two miles with its steep, boulder-heavy climb to the finish either.

Nope. The hardest part of the race, mentally and emotionally, was the long, straight stretch where we ran on what felt like a never-ending bike path with zero obstacles to dodge or distract. It was miles 6-10—the middle of the race—that felt the hardest. 

While I was trudging along that boring, flat stretch of trail, I couldn’t help but see the life lesson glaring in my face. Take goal setting, for instance. Just like the start of a race, the start of a goal is exciting. You buy the new notebooks or the fancy fitness gear. You feel those butterflies in your stomach. This is going to transform me, you think to yourself. 

On your mark, get set, go—and you’re off. 

For a while, it’s fun and exciting. The novelty of your goal hasn’t worn off yet and your motivation stays strong. One month in, two months in—it’s a piece of cake. Just like at the beginning of a race, you feel strong and capable. It’s easy to maintain your “hey, I can do this!” attitude. 

Then you hit the metaphorical bike path. You’ve arrived in your middle. It’s boring. It’s long. It feels like it will never end. The views aren’t as pretty and your legs aren’t as fresh. This is the part where you have to maintain your pace and find your internal steadiness rather than relying on external motivation to push you through. You have to find the will to keep going even when there’s no finish line in sight. 

I’ve been thinking about how much easier it is to turn to God at our beginnings and endings. It’s a lot harder to trust Him in our messy middles. How many accounts do we read in the scriptures where groups of people reached out to God in fervent and sincere prayer at the beginning of their stories only to grow complacent in the middle, eventually losing sight and running out of steam before crawling to their finish line with a mournful desperate cry? 

I see this pattern in my own life. I love the newness of beginnings. I love inviting God into my planning. At every milestone or the start of a new challenge, I’m on my knees, asking Him to show up in a big way. But in the middle of each life experience, that faith is a lot harder to hold on to. My grip starts to slacken; the brightness of my trust grows dim. Sometimes it’s easier to have faith when He hasn’t asked much of me yet. 

I should be there by now.

I thought You said I could do this. 

This is much harder than I thought it would be. 

Most of our life takes place in the middle. It’s not just about our fragile new beginning or our final breaths at the end—what did we do with everything in between? 

God doesn’t dread the middle. He doesn’t think it’s boring or worth skipping over. In fact, He lives for it. That’s the long stretch where He can do His best work within us if we allow Him to. Because in every single middle is an infinite number of fresh starts and graceful endings. Each new day is a new chapter in His favorite story. 

Maybe you and I can learn to love the middle like He does. Maybe we can see the beauty in those worn pages and the flat bike paths, even when our motivation is dwindling and the excitement has worn off. 

Teach me to love this part might be my new favorite prayer. 

Maybe it will be yours, too.