It's easy to think it always rains where only we stand--a constant deluge of rain on my parade of one. I feel soaked in that thought often. Elijah, a man just like us, did too. I take comfort in that--after all, misery loves company. "I alone am left!" he cries from the mouth of the cave, as though he wasn't the one who just left. "I alone am left!" I cry from whatever current state from which I've just run away. Running a race requires other runners around, not running away period.

I run away a lot.

Two days ago someone asked me what verse encapsulates my life. I mull for a minute, allow him to share his verse first, buying time masked as courtesy. And when he finishes and asks again, I scramble quickly grabbing the two verses I first memorized in my Bible memorization journey.

"Do you not know, that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way to Get That Prize!"

"Therefore, since we're surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw aside every sin and the weight that so easily entangles us, and let us run with patience the race that is set out for us, looking to Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy set before him, endured the cross, despised the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the Father."

It's not lost on me that both of these have to do with running: I'm dull, but not stupid. There are a few reasons why these verses mean much to me and victory is most of them. I want to win. I like to win. I need to win. But these passages aren't just about winning, they're about running. And the assumption is, they're about running alongside other runners.

I don't always like other runners. They crowd my space, cramp my style. They're sweaty and they're faster than me. I don't like other runners because they make me feel slow, or they make me want to slow down, pace myself like they do. Or I feel badly for them, lagging behind in last place, so I lag with them. I don't always like other runners because they can sprint and I just can't.

But sometimes I don't like other runners because I think I know the best way to run. And that is to run away. To run from the competition, the work, the fight, the company, and sequester myself safe from the challenge they present. To stand and shout from the mouth of my self-made monastery, "I alone am left!" As though He doesn't know that isn't true anyway.

No one's been left. It rains on the just and the unjust. You're not a special case and neither am I. We're runners and sometimes runners get tired, sometimes we need to pace ourselves, sometimes we need to sprint, sometimes we need to just run. But don't leave. And don't cry that you alone are left. You're not alone, you're just wet or tired. And that's okay, we'll slow down with you.

But we won't lose sight of the Prize.