I think I know how Terry felt.

He woke up every day and ran a marathon. I bet he was tired. I bet some days he woke up and just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. I bet sometimes he’d rather go to McDonalds, have a big breakfast, catch a movie and maybe read a good book. I bet he was sore and worn out and tired of the rain and the beating sun.

But Terry Fox just kept running.

I realize it’s no real comparison. But I literally feel like I’m running a marathon every day. Each story feels about 42.2 kilometres long and I’m in no shape to run that far every day.

The process is painful. It starts with going through all the notes, remembering details, recalling everything of significance. Then I dump everything that seems relevant onto my blank text document, like setting up a track. I put all the elements in there, but disjointed.

Then I loop around and around and around and around the track, trying to find a sense of the story somewhere in the journey. What is the most important element of this person’s tale? What makes their story unique? What will best represent who they are to the world? What will pull at people’s hearts? I run around, lugging these thoughts like heavy weights on my ankles.

But after hours or days or weeks, each story starts to form. Sometimes it comes quickly; an obvious introduction presents itself or a theme to the story presents itself. Often it’s just one comment, one answered question or one afterthought by a person that becomes the focal point. I find it’s often when people don’t think they’re saying much that they’re saying the most about themselves. It’s those words that tumble out while pouring the coffee or watching the children play outside that a person reveals who they really are.

Then comes the revising and shaping and molding, the cutting away of everything that takes away from that person’s story, even if it’s their history or their present life or their surroundings. Every single detail about a person doesn’t add to the story, it detracts.

Then I run the track around and around a few more times, I read the story aloud as I run, I cut off more weights from my ankles as questions are answered, I move elements around so it flows more quickly, so the pace is as it should be. Finally I have something that resembles a story.

Then I set it aside. After all, this is just the first draft. The story is now ready for multiple revisions, hopefully by more people than just myself as it gets refined again and again.

And I move on to the next story, another stretch of 42.2 kilometres of pain and hope, of searching and finding the nuggets that make up that person’s story, that will hopefully encourage people to run the race God has set before us.

… let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

- Hebrews 12: 1b-3

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