Even a moment.

After three years, I finally got the chance to run the memorial "Tunnels to Towers" 5k this year. Some of you may have heard me talk about the fact that I thought it would be a really cool race to participate in as you start in Brooklyn - run through the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, and end up at the World Trade Center sight in Lower Manhattan. And it was even cooler than I expected. It certainly is something to see over 30,000 people bobbing up and down race style as far as you can see in the tunnel and beyond. But it was way more than a race or just a 5k experience for me. The race is in memory of a firefighter from NYC whose name was Stephen Siller, and this year marked the 10 year anniversary. I was happy to support a great cause - their desire is to "Do Good" and "Counter Evil". Their foundation does many things and supports fireman, servicemen fighting terrorists, etc., and basically brings good to this world. So I was thrilled to support them, and to do something cool and be able to say "I ran through the tunnel." Little did I know what lied ahead for me or just how emotional the experience would be. More to come in a moment. As I ran today ( I know I just did the 5k yesterday, but...) I learned something new. I am not a fast runner. I have been trying to get my times down on miles to under 10 minutes. That is really hard for me. I have done 10:30/11:00 miles pretty regularly, but have not been able to maintain that as my 'normal pace'. And I ran through the park today at a much slower pace. Probably 11:30 miles or so, and it was so much more enjoyable. Trying to run the faster times I am always thinking 'am I going fast enough', 'wow, I am breathing really hard', 'I don't think I can do this', 'man this is hard', and those types of thoughts. Today as I ran the slower pace, I enjoyed seeing the different people around me - the older african american man that smiled at me as I passed him, the beautiful baby (maybe four months old) in the stroller next to me as I ran my slow pace and her mom walked talking to her, the young woman whose pony tail bobbed to the beat of Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. (I think my new favorite band), the boy on the scooter with his helmet that was too big for him, save all the green and the lake and the trees and the chipmunks. Are you starting to understand? I was just enjoying the run. Not worrying about the time, etc. - OK T$ get to the point. Well Sunday's race I was really going to push myself. I thought "I would really just like to push myself and see if I could do it in under 30 minutes." That would be a big push for me to do, but I was excited to push. So as I ran through the tunnel, I was pushing. I did enjoy the music being pumped in through speakers, the bobbing of runners wall to wall, the comraderie of the crowd. But then the breathing....it was an EXTREMELY humid morning, and it was probably over 100 degrees in the tunnel. And I don't like running when it is hot out. I am pretty sure 20 years of smoking doesn't help your lung capacity on those runs. So the push got less. The hill up out of the tunnel was hard. Slowed down. Couldn't keep my pace that I hoped for. Not a big deal, it wasn't life or death. Then I got to the end of the tunnel. I did not know that there would be FDNY firemen lining the road on both sides up out of the tunnel, around the corner onto the West Side Highway holding the American flags that now lined the streets. I wasn't thinking about the fact that this image might bring about emotions and affect my run. But it did. Looking at these firemen, my mind went to the thought of that day. Of how many of these guys were near this spot that I was running on 9.11- how many of them lost their friends/co-workers? Then I realized that along the entire right side of the road, the firemen were holding banners with photos of the firemen that died on 9.11 and listed was their engine, company, etc. The emotion of how many of these men and women died that day near where I was standing. Yes, standing. I couldn't run. My mind thought of the men and women, not just firefighters, but all of the men and women that died that day. Evil that brought about death. The pain of a family member lost forever. The death of a friend. A spouse. Gone. My mind rolled to Stephen Siller who did this: On September 11th, firefighter Stephen Siller had just gotten off the late shift at Squad 1, Park Slope, Brooklyn. He was on his way to play golf with his brothers on that bright clear day when his scanner told of the first plane hitting the Twin Towers. When he heard the news, he called his wife Sally to tell her he would be late because he had to help those in need. He returned to Squad 1 to get his gear, then took his final heroic steps to the World Trade Center. When Stephen drove his truck to the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, it was already closed to traffic . With sixty pounds of gear strapped to his back, he ran through the Tunnel, hoping to meet up with his own company, Squad 1. I walked and sobbed thinking about not only Stephen, but the courageous men and women that went to the towers because they had a deep desire to help those that were suffering. To come to the rescue of those that were surrounded by pain, destruction, even death. To run with all the baggage miles in order to help. To serve. And then I knew that God was trying to teach me something. I felt like God said - Stephen paid the ultimate sacrifice - he died for others. Just like Jesus did. Are you willing to give it all up? Are you willing to give your life to save others? Would you pay that kind of sacrifice? Jesus did. Crying doesn't even describe what I was doing at this point. This is what Jesus did. He went to the cross because I am in a burning building named earth. Only I am the one that drives the plane into the buiding. And yet He loves us enough to pay that sacrifice. So that I can get out of the building. He comes in to rescue. He runs through the tunnel with his gear on. He runs up the stairwell after me. Not because it is his job. Because He loves me that much. And He didn't just do it for me. He did it for all. ALL. 'For God so loved the world He sent His one and only son.' And I did eventually get enough gumption to run more. And as I ran along the Hudson, I saw an older woman. She was standing watching the runners. Crying. I don't know why she was crying or what her story is. But she was cheering the whole time. Maybe she lost her husband. Her son. Her daughter. So I cried a bit more, and gave her a high five. Then ran to the finish. I didn't expect the emotions that I experienced. I didn't expect God to teach me about sacrifice or about the love he has for me. I have said for over 10 years that I have always held the death and destruction and pain and suffering at arms length from 9.11, and maybe that's why it was so overwhelming Sunday morning. God showed me yet again just what Jesus did to bring his teaching and legacy to an end. 10 years after the fact. And it wasn't the time I finished the race that I will take with me, but what God taught me along the route. What a correlary to life. I need to stop worrying about the time. The accomplishments. How fast I can do this, how good I can do that. But slow down and experience all God has for me to experience. At the pace He has created me for. I praise God for all of the courageous men and women that have the heart of running into buildings to save others. I pray that I would be open to giving the ultimate sacrifice so that others might have even a moment where they see exactly what Jesus has done for this world.