Carrying each other ‘forward,’ conquering fear

This essay appeared on The Daily BS on November 9, 2024.

It happened on a gorgeous September night. The starter’s gun fired, and hundreds of running feet took to the course.

The pack was running fast. Standing at a break in the trees, we watched eagerly for our first sighting of The Cub, youngest of our four sons and a senior. There he came, looking strong.

Through the woods and on to the next viewing spot and the next, we ran. By then, he was beginning to lag, so Mother and Father continued to cheer, and Mother prayed. And then it was time. Sprinting down the slope, I took up my place along the final stretch, watching, watching, waiting, and then he appeared at the top of the hill.

With my heart in my throat, I saw him waver, legs wobbling. Lower, and lower, and lower he sank while those legs of his kept moving until he collapsed to the ground. Running, mouthing the words, “Oh, my God,” my feet carried me back to where my husband had now stepped out onto the course to pick him up. From the sidelines, I watched as he spoke into his ear. Then, once again, Cub started running. And again, those legs wobbled and wove and then, at last, they failed, and he collapsed.

From just ahead of him, another runner in a different jersey turned around, picked up my son, and began to carry him down the stretch. Approaching the finish line, he put him down (perhaps to give him the dignity of crossing it himself? I cannot say), and to my utter shock, that son of mine crawled on hands and knees across the finish line before collapsing one final time.

It was afterwards that my husband told me about his little exchange with his boy as he picked him up and held him. “Do you want to quit? Do you want me to walk you in?”

“No. I can do it,” Cub said. And he tried. Boy, did he try.

At home that night, we prayed together about the upcoming medical tests we were facing and other things that mattered. After we were done, he said quietly, “I’m not afraid. I trust God to keep me alive.”

The next day, as I waited with him in a doctor’s office to start the testing, I said to my blue-eyed son, “You are a resilient, determined guy.”

In that calm, simple way of his, he answered. “The only thing in my mind was ‘forward.'”

I was stunned. Though his body had failed, his spirit had not. When all he could do was crawl, he crawled, and he crossed that finish line. This astonishing feat was possible only because another mother’s son picked him up and carried him forward when he could not carry himself. Though the boys were both disqualified in the official record, what happened that night proved that they are eminently qualified in tenacity and love.

Truth is, in the lives that we live off the course, the court, and the field, there are things that transcend all of those. Things like character, and love, and sportsmanship, and human kindness. Things like a spirit that doesn’t fail when a tired body does, and a strong back and helping hands that lift the fallen.

This incident reminded me again that we can’t really know what’s in our children until they are tested. In extreme physical distress, our son showed us (and himself) what was there. Because he didn’t want to disappoint his coach, his teammates, or himself, he kept pushing forward at all costs.

Knowing this about himself gives him a huge advantage in life. Down the road, hard times will come, but he can always look back and know that the grit and determination to push through them will be there. He has seen his own strength; this will help him.

To our vast relief, all of his tests came back negative for the familial heart disease. However, fear and anxiety, often present in smaller measure, began to grow. Fearing another collapse and further pain, he suffered significantly before each successive race. Seeing his torment, we turned to a healing prayer practitioner who was able to help him identify the root cause of his years-long fear. God himself spoke clearly to him, and the chokehold of fear was broken.

His last two races were triumphant. He ran with joy. He ran with peace. He finished strong, upright, and happy. He had won the victory over fear!

After his final race, he told me, “I’m glad that happened. If it hadn’t, I would’ve never really beaten the fear.”

What an incredible thing to learn. If a teenage boy can face his fear and conquer it, so can you. So can I.

As a mother, I am so grateful for the lessons that our son learned through adversity. I’m grateful, too, for the other runner from an opposing team whose kindness touched us deeply. It was a very special gift to meet his mother and to be able to say “thank you” as the boys ran their very last race.

The story of these two young men is why our family will always love the sport of cross country. It is also why I hold hope and optimism for this rising generation in which there are, as we saw one night on a wooded course, some bright and shining lights. Wearing spikes, who carry each other ‘forward.’ Who show us how it looks to conquer fear.

PC: Branden Beachy