Christine Caine - Run the Race!: Discover Your Purpose and Experience the Power of Being on Gods Winning Team

ZONDERVAN

Run the Race!

Copyright 2014, 2018 by Christine Caine

Derived from material previously published in Unstoppable.

Abridgment by Meredith Hinds.

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ISBN 978-0-785-23064-9 (softcover)

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Epub Edition September 2019 9780310108191

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CONTENTS

I cant believe were here at the Olympics! The Olympics, Nick! Isnt it awesome?

He could barely hear me above the roar of the crowd.

Awesome! he shouted back.

We took in the view togetherthe massive stadium filled with light and color and motion and 110,000 spectators, the buzz of conversations in who knew how many languages, the red track below, and the runners taking their positions.

The year was 2000Saturday, September 30. The place, Sydney, in my homeland. Id celebrated my thirty-fourth birthday a week before, and being here felt like the best birthday gift of my life.

Though Im Australian by birth, Greek blood runs through my veins. The image of the five interlocking Olympic rings fluttering on the Olympic flags above us and plastered all over Sydney made my heart swell.

I love all things sport and always have. I competed as a runner in high school, and running is still my favorite workout. As a spectator, Ive always been partial to the 4 x 100-meter relay, and the womens relay in particular. My husband, Nick, and I were about to watch this very race in person. Eight countries were competing in the final race for gold. I was cheering for the USA team to take the medal.

Before the 2000 Sydney Olympics, the USA womens 4 x 100-meter relay team had won the gold medal nine times out of sixteen Olympics. They were the reigning Olympic champions.

Nick and I watched the runners moving onto the track, four per team. White lines marked the three exchange zones, each 20 meters in length, in every lane. The first runner, the starter, would cover about 100 meters and enter the first exchange zone to meet the second runner, who would already be running, arm stretched out behind, hand open, ready to receive the baton that had to be handed off within that 20-meter exchange zone. Runner two would carry the baton to the second exchange zone and hand off the baton to runner three, who in turn would run about 100 meters, handing off the baton to the anchor, who would carry it across the finish. The entire race would be only one lap, 400 meters, and take less than one minute.

The runners took their positions. A hush fell over the crowd.

The shot rang out and they were off. The first USA handoff was smooth, and my cheers were lost in the roar around me as the US team took the lead. But in the next exchange zone, the second runner struggled to get the baton into the third runners hand. My heart fell. That muffed handoff had cost precious milliseconds and perhaps the race.

The seconds flew by41.95 seconds to be exact. Thats how long it took for Bahama to win the gold. Jamaica was a mere .18 seconds behind, followed by the USA, at 42.20 seconds, trailing the winning team by .25 seconds.

Nick, they should have won! I cried in disbelief. How did this happen? He didnt need to answer. It had happened in the fraction of a second in the second handoff. I watched the screen replay the final seconds at the finish line. Exhilaration on the face of the Bahamian anchor, disbelief on the face of the American. I thought my heart would break for her and her team.

At least they medaled, Nick said. They won the bronze.

Those women hadnt come for the bronze. Theyd come for the gold. They were running to win.

Four years passed.

In a hotel room in the US, on August 27, Nick and I sat in front of a television, captivated by scenes of the 2004 Summer Olympics in Athens, Greece. My eyes were glued to the screen every available moment, but never was my anticipation higher than when Team USA took their places for the first round of the qualifying heats of the womens 4 x 100 relay.

The American women were considered the four fastest runners on the field. Poor Nick was nearly deaf from my screams of joy when they proved themselves to be the fastest and strongest team in the first heat that day: 41.67 seconds!

The next day, nothing could have kept me away from watching the finals, the medal race. When Marion Jones, the second runner, received her baton and accelerated, I knew nothing would stop this incredible team. She approached Lauryn Williams for the second exchange of the baton.

No! I screamed, jumping to my feet. No way!

Had Lauryn started too early, too fast? Was Marion too far behind? No matter which of them was at fault, when that baton finally passed from Marions forward thrusting arm to Lauryns back-stretched hand, they had run out of the exchange zone.

But they were the fastest! They were the strongest! They had the lead! They were the best!

It didnt matter. Not only did they miss the gold, they were disqualified. Stopped in their tracks. Not even a bronze medal. Once again, they were undone in the exchange zone.