“You’ve got to get up every morning with determination if you’re going to go to bed with satisfaction.” -George Lorimer

Why do I keep waking up at 4:00 in the morning to do a 5km fun run or a 40km fun ride on my bike? No, I don’t enjoy struggling to shake off that drowsy feeling on a weekend morning when I know I should be sleeping in. Knowing how I will punish myself again with physical pain I find myself asking the same question over and over, “Car, why do you this?”

Last Friday (May 1, Labor Day) I woke up with a sore throat and fever I wasn’t excited to ride my bike. I wanted to back out but backing out wasn’t an option. My running coach said to me once, “Pain is all in the mind.” I forced myself to get up, eat breakfast and after taking 2000mg of vitamin C and paracetamol I left our house with very low energy.

I survived the ordeal of biking for almost 1 hour covering a stretch of 40km. Maybe it’s the effect of the medicine, or perhaps it’s sheer willpower. In my mind I kept pushing myself to keep going and going. I’m just thankful I didn’t collapse or had an asthma attack. I was exhausted yet, happy. But as soon as I got home I went straight to my room and crashed into my bed.

So why do I do these things? Why do I bike and run? I have one simple answer: I feel good about myself. When I am able to beat my personal record it feels great. When I survive a gruelling ride of uphill and winding roads it’s exhilarating because I was able to commune with nature. I feel good when I actually try out something new and not just wishfully think about it.

I believe that physical pain is nothing next to pain of regret. I would rather listen to my joints and muscles cry out in soreness, than my soul being haunted by what ifs.

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“… and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” -Hebrews 12:1 (NIV)

Being a Christian is not easy. I have my own share of ‘modern-day persecutions’. I have been labeled as being too serious and too straight by some. My personality has been judged as well because I don’t subscribe to other people’s idea of fun.

It takes a lot of courage to even admit out in the open I believe and pray to God. But I know I shouldn’t feel any shame. What’s really difficult is trying not to give in to daily temptations such as gossiping, whining or having a good laugh at the expense of making fun of people. It is not easy to overlook an offense and be forgiving, to be patient and not to say bad things about other people.

This is the real race I have chosen to run. To keep moving forward in my faith living out my identity as a child of God first and foremost. All other worldly titles are secondary. As God continues to mold me with His forgiving hands I know He is always there to cheer me on. For some people they will never appreciate nor fully understand what this whole ‘faith thing’ is all about. And if that is the reason for people to see or treat me differently then so be it . I’m willing to cut some ties. But life without God is empty. So I’d rather keep Him.  Starting out a journey with Him is an exciting experience it’s almost like starting a race. But it’s how we finish it is what matters most. I may have been sidetracked many times by fleeting pleasures. But I’m thankful for His grace and mercy I can always get back on track. And as I persevere to focus my eyes on the road my goal is to cross that finish line.

“Car….I, uhm… he would beat me up. I’m a battered girlfriend.”

I stared at my friend. My mozzarella-covered fork with pasta noodles dangling from all sides hanged in mid-air.

For 5 seconds I couldn’t move. And then, I put my fork down.

My friend stared back at me. Her eyes were waiting for me to say something. Instead, I reached out for her hand and gently squeezed it.

Finally, I broke my silence. “Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that.”

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My friend is only 5 feet flat; her ex-boyfriend is about 5’10. He is almost twice her size and this picture was running in my head as I listened to her. My eyes started to water.

She says it didn’t just happen one time. The beatings lingered since they lived together. He would flare up whenever she would get into his nerves (whatever that meant) and would resort to physical abuse when words are not enough to unleash his anger.

They worked on projects together as trainors. The guy was a motivational speaker, and girls would swoon over him. It was in India when she finally decided to escape from the clutches of her boyfriend’s “claws”. Penniless and only with her passport in hand she scrambled out of their hotel building and into the streets of Bangalore not knowing where to go. She ran so far away until she thought it was safe to stop. She begged a shop owner to allow her to use the phone for free. Her tears choked her words as she called home (Manila).

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We were at Italianni’s, Greenbelt. My emotions started to drown out the music and the chatter from the other tables. I tried to compose myself lest I breakdown and create a scene. Usually, I would know what to say. But at that moment, nothing came out of me. Just a sigh.

She arrived in Manila with bruises all over her body. Her parents were able to convince her to see a doctor. Yet, she doesn’t want to file for a police report.

The trauma has given her anxiety attacks from time to time. However, my friend claims she is much stronger now. And I’d like to believe it. But I know she will never be the same. There is a dent in her soul.

I am livid. Yet, I do not know who to blame. When I think of her I am also haunted by her past. Her healing is beyond words. I can only give her my silence as she speaks. And before we said good-bye I assured her by saying I don’t think less of her in any way.

She doesn’t know that I shed tears for her whenever she comes to mind.