What will I be thinking when I cross the finish line for the last time?

Well, sports has meant a lot of different things to me. Like most people, I was hooked by the sheer enjoyment of the movement patterns, various skills and of course, the games themselves. Throughout my long and blessed career, I’ve met people, traveled to places and experienced things I never would have otherwise. I’ve learned lessons from all types of coaches, from all sorts of scenarios and from all kinds of wins and losses. There has been incalculable growth, innumerable friendships and a myriad of takeaways.

But unlike most people, I realize as important and cherished as all those things are, they were never what really mattered.

It took awhile, but eventually, it occurred to me that all of it — the highs and lows, the trials and miles, the victories and defeats … the sensation of satisfaction standing at the top of a 14er after you ran the whole way up the trail — were actually just small tastes of much greater heavenly realities. In other words, I realized why all the other stuff felt so good.

And that has made all the difference.

I now realize the most important thing (and it’s always been happening — I just didn’t always see it) was that sports was simply a means for me to be sanctified.

So, when I cross the finish line for the last time, I’ll be thinking mostly about one thing: this isn’t the finish line.

It never was.

An excerpt from a chapter titled The Secret life of Mack Chan in the novel “Ski Race Cancelled on Account of Snow” by Ryan Sederquist