I have attended two funerals this week, each for a beautiful lady who I'm sure wondered to the end if she had run her race well; whether the love pressed into the baton that she carried would find the hands of her loved ones, and be passed on to the next runner, and the next. As I stared into the candle that I held at this morning's service, my thoughts were suddenly hijacked by my sixteen year old self:

As a grade eleven student, very small in stature, and clutching a miniscule piece of self-confidence, I somehow found myself in the school's track and field relay race. As I stood there, waiting for the baton to be slipped into my hand, my mind suddenly went completely blank; all of my focus was in the present - preparing to run with all that was in me. As I tore down the track, I looked up to see my mother's face watching from the sidelines, pride and worry battling for first place in her emotions. I don't remember finishing the race, or anything of the outcome - I just remember someone saying, "Did you see what you did?" To this day, I don't know whether I did well, or if I totally blew it, and rather than destroying the fragile hope that I held onto, I have avoided finding out.

We all have traumatic events in our past that have had dramatic ripple effects on our lives and our accomplishments; We too are left questioning how we have lived our lives, where we could have done better. Rather than running our race reliving or regretting the past, let's sieze the present moment, grab that baton of hope, and give life's relay race all we've got.
I know that's the advice that these two ladies would want to pass on.