This morning I went for a run.

It started more like a celebration because I am back on the road again, and then I felt so good, I decided it would be a long run! You see, my husband, in all his wisdom and love (and let’s be honest—probably a little strategy), blessed me with a shiny new pair of Nike Vomero’s last week. But I was under the weather and couldn’t test them out right away. So this morning? Oh, I laced them up like a girl on a mission.

I didn’t plan on running 10K. I really didn’t. But somewhere between kilometer two and my amazing playlist of old and new very loud music, something inspired me, and I decided it was going to be a “real run.” And you know what? I loved every minute. Not because it was easy, but because I know the fruit of discipline.

I just returned from the Oceans Marathon. I know the grind. I know about cadence, heart rate zones, carb-loading and taper weeks. And I love it. I love seeing what my body can do when I respect the discipline. It doesn’t lie, it tells you exactly what you put in.

And on this run, my thoughts started drifting to Scripture (because runners’ highs are basically little moments of clarity from heaven, right?). I remembered Hebrews 12:1:

“Let us run with endurance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus…”

There were other runners on the road, some with a pace like they stole something, others just strolling. And I realized again: Everyone’s running something.

Some were thinking about breakfast, some about bills, others maybe running off frustration or running into purpose. But no matter what, Jesus didn’t tell us to win everyone else’s race. He said, run yours. Stay in your lane. Keep your pace. Breathe in His presence.

And what really made me smile? That great cloud of witnesses cheering us on—Hebrews 12 says they’re up there: Moses, Rahab, David, Peter. And you know what? I can almost hear them yelling:

“C’mon, Vicky! Don’t stop now! Run, girl, RUN!”

And listen, I’m taking liberty with the context, I know that. But the spiritual race is real, and the finish line isn’t a medal or a Facebook post, it’s hearing Jesus say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

That’s why I run. That’s why I train. Because every kilometer, every decision, every “yes” to discipline, every “no” to quitting, gets me closer, not just to a finish line, but into my Father’s arms. 

So… will you join me? Maybe not for 10K today, but how about just tying up your shoes and walking around your neighborhood? Maybe even pray a little while you walk. Let your lungs remind you of the breath of life. Let your body move, because discipline does something divine.

Jesus walked. Jesus prayed. Jesus endured.

And if He is my Coach, I’m lacing up for life, again and again.

Let’s run our race. Let’s run home.

Love V