Special Moments.

Of all the reasons I write, perhaps capturing those special moments and preserving them for a lifetime may be one of the most precious ones.

I just want to remember:

- the time I stood at the starting line, feeling overwhelmed by the pulsing air of excitement from the tens of thousands of people there, feeling lost since J and I decided that she would race ahead of me, feeling worried that my knee would give up and I would be unable to complete the distance by myself... Then receiving Aunty Ay's text message, "Run your own race looking to God, not man. Praying for you. Just being there is an achievement already!" and W's little reminder, " You can do it! May God carry you on His wings... Your knee will be healed."

I learnt, that it is perfectly okay to feel not-okay at the beginning of a journey. It is okay, because that's where trust and faith in God come in.

- the time when the horn sounded, when all the runners took off, when my heart sank to the floor as many raced ahead of me, and I saw J disappear into the crowd... but I found person after person to talk to, to encourage, and to be encouraged by. It was then I learnt, that no matter how lost we may feel on a journey, God will surely send people, angels in disguise, to push us on. We, too, may be angels to somebody else.

- the time where I met Uncle Lim, an elderly man who loved to run, and listened to his stories as I plodded on. As I ran ahead and U-turned past the midway point, he, far behind on the other side of the loop, climbed up to the fence just so he could shout to me, "WAI JIA! KEEP GOING!"

What a pleasantly embarrassing moment. It was such a touching moment to see a white-haired man, absolutely exhausted, make the extra effort to look out for me, clamber halfway to the fence just so he could get my attention to encourage me on. I can't believe he actually remembered my bib number and email address, for I received a note from him today:

Hi Wai Jia,

Just trying my luck to see if this reaches you.

Many thanks for your encouragement.

We had some nice conversation on the way.

Did you tell your daddy the Proton Saga joke I told you?

I did better then last year by 15 minutes, without any muscle cramps.

I'm quite happy with what I did this year.

I noticed that you also did very well.

So sad I didn't see any photo of mine (on the official website taken by the organisers ).

But you got 8 photos and all look gorgeous!

You must have been very attractive to the photographers.

Hahaha...

Do get in touch.

Cheers, Lim

I'm reminded, how elderly people are such a joy and inspiration in our lives. I learnt, just how much God had blessed me during this race.

- the time where I ran alongside Simon, who confided in me that he was afraid he wouldn't finish the race, and was so thankful for company because he had prayed specifically for "an angel" to run alongside him. "My brother is a missionary, and I'm going to tell him I met you today!" Talking to him was the highlight of my race, too.

I learnt, that each random encounter might just be a divine appointment.

- the time where I ran past the 16-kilometre mark and saw a young lad walking, and decided to run next to him to encourage him to press on, only to have him exclaim, "Wai Jia!" Then looking at his face, realising he was one of my cycling buddies and seeing him pick his legs up to complete his full marathon in less than 4.5 hours... "I was so glad I met you...if not I would've walked more..." , and finding myself inspired by him to push on myself.

I learnt, that helping others is incredibly empowering. More powerful than any energy bar.

- the many moments I turned back to smile at someone who had decided to walk because he was too tired, and seeing him take off again and running by, or better still, overtaking me. I learnt, that everyone can do with a smile.

- the time where I saw the finish line and felt so surreal, where I lifted up my hands and couldn't stop thanking God for my legs and flat feet.

I learnt, that gratitude is what pleases God the most.

- the time where I saw J and she was so very, very proud of me, even though my timing, in comparison to hers, was so far behind. "I'm sooo proud of you dear! Well done & the honour is all yours. Yippy! :)" I learnt, that having someone wait for you at the finishing line makes a world of difference. Friends, are so precious.

- the time where I returned home to show you my medal and photos, and you were so happy and proud of me, perhaps because I brought back memories to your old, athletic days, which you always told me about, over and over, and I can never grow tired listening to your same stories.
I learnt that having a family and loved ones who support you in your endeavours is one of the greatest blessings in the world.

- the time after it all blew over, and you asked, " So full marathon next year?"

And I grinned, "I'll think about it, dad. We'll see, okay?"

I learnt, that life is a journey, which without others and God, would simply not be worth living and worth journeying till the very very end.

" I have fought the good fight,

I have finished the race,

I have kept the faith."

-2 Timothy 4:7

Flat and fleet.

I spent most of Saturday crying.

I had looked forward to the 6th of December for 6 months, prepared for the day, learnt so much through the process, been encouraged by my family, felt God's assurance that He would see me through the journey, only to wake up on Saturday realising that... the pain was still there. It started a week ago and I thought it would get better, but it didn't.

6 months ago, my family and J suggested I try my first half-marathon.

"Yeah, right, dad. I've flat feet, the most I'll ever run is 10 kilometres. 21 kilometres is not funny, you know."

"I've flat feet too, Jia. I've done 2 full marathons."

I was afraid. Afraid of the distance, the commitment, the pain involved, but most of all, of the tenuous, treacherous balance I would have to keep between time spent in training and with my family and friends, exercise and food, self-sufficiency and dependence on God. Much deliberation, counsel from my loved ones, and one many conversation with God later, I took a deep breath and signed up for my first half-marathon.

This is the first time in my life I see how sports can matter, not only to me, but to God too. This is the first time I see how sports can bring one so close to heaven. This is the first time I had felt I didn't want to run, for a race which I felt God was nudging me to prepare for, because He had life lessons He wanted me to learn.

So all this while I tread lightly on the tightrope, always careful to maintain that balance so training wouldn't take over my life. Throughout the training period, I promised both God and myself that I would never turn a friend, family member, or the opportunity to reach out to someone in need away because I needed to train. I promised I would eat properly. I knew, that with my flat feet, 21 kilometres was not a distance I could do by myself. I determined in my heart to set out on this journey toward the race, as a road to learning how to trust God. I also promised, that if at any point He wanted me, for some reason, not to run, I would stop, too.

I often wondered what I had got myself into.

There were many obstacles in the way:
- Because of my flat feet, my left sole hurt so bad at one point after a mere ten kilometres that I had to stop training altogether, even though I already had special shoes. It was then that I received a pair of custom-made insoles for my feet as a gift that literally gave me wings.

- Running alone, for longer and longer periods of time can be excruciating- I learnt that I found it almost impossible to train by myself day after day, week after week. Yet, along the way, many strangers became friends, and whenever I needed someone to run, or cycle with, someone always showed up. When J was busy, N would pester me; when N went overseas, J wanted more time to train with me. At every point, things always worked out. Somehow, God knew I couldn't go it alone and provided for me.

And perhaps, the most amazing thing I learnt, is how friends can make a tedious journey so enjoyable, so delightful. I will never forget the day J and I skipped our usual cycling training to go for a long run because of the predicted wet weather, and we promised we would run till it rained. It never did, so we didn't stop. Laughing, joking, and sharing our lives with each other as we enjoyed the crisp morning, we ran and giggled and laughed and ran and by the time we checked our podometer and reached home, we had done more than half a marathon without realising it.

As I learnt to trust God, instead of constantly being uptight about my own abilities, I saw how He proved to me that He was able to provide what I needed, that He knew me through and through, and would take me further than I would ever go by myself. And perhaps most importantly, through this journey, I made a special friend, J.

But on Saturday, I was angry and bitter with God. I had tapered down my training for the past 2 weeks. I had eaten and trained sensibly. I had made great efforts not to let training take priority over family time, time with friends, studies, or church. I wanted to be sure I had my heart and feet in the right place through it all. I didn't want to grieve God the way I used to. Yet, He seemed to let me down by having me wake up in the morning, with the most absurd and bizarre pain in my right knee, just days before race day.

Why am I having the pain now, at this crucial time? After all that You've brought me through, are You telling me to give the race up?

I was disappointed and in despair. After giving up my bike just a few weeks ago, the thought of having to sacrifice this race was a little too much to take. I had invested my emotions, trust and faith in Someone who turned His back on me at the last moment. Why do you always choose to torment me this way? I went on a rampage- How can you be so unfair God? You've taken my bike, and now you want to take running away from me. Why is it you always choose to take from me what I love and enjoy the most? I DIDN'T EVEN WANT TO TRAIN FOR THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE-why do you put me through this pain? You are unfair and a masochist.

I was unrelenting in my vicious accusations. I became angry with God, then angry at myself for allowing bitterness at God to consume me. There were so many things in the world to be grieved about-poverty, famine, abuse- why on earth did I let something as silly as a bicycle or a race get me riled up?

But I learnt, that God is concerned even in the little details of our lives- not because of their minute-ness, but because He is concerned about what they teach us, how they mould us.

Aunty Ay was worried I would injure myself, while J and Michael said they would support me in whatever decision I chose to make. You win, God. Go ahead, take whatever you want. We're supposed to trust you since you know best right?

The pain was real. I couldn't fathom why God would give me peace and so much assurance at the beginning to train for a race that He couldn't see me through to completion. Aunty Ay suggested that perhaps the lesson to learn was that it was the process, and not the destination which was most important.

Something restless stirred within me. I was sure up to that point that God would see me through the end. So all hell broke loose within me when the pain in my knee persisted. The more I thought about it, the more bitter and enraged I became. By noon, I had decided to forgo the race. Grieved, I left the house for some time alone. God, you are so unfair. How is it possible you are unreliable? Or inconsistent? Don't I deserve a bike, don't I deserve proper feet? Why do you give me flat feet if you know I love running? It's all because of my stupid flat feet that I've knee and sole problems.

By that point, my rampage had gone out of control. Petulant, greedy, resentful, seething demanding little-mini-me had morphed into an Insatiable Ogre.

At a different train station, I met Peter, a middle-aged man selling tissue packets on a wheelchair, with a big smile on his face.

"Hi Peter, you remember me?" I said, trying to sound chirpy.

"Yes! How're you?"

We talked. Peter confided in me with a big smile on his face, " Yup, I wasn't born like this! I got an infection when I was born!" He beamed at me.

He wasn't born with cerebral palsy.

It was at that point, as I saw his big smile and heard those words that tears built up behind my eyes and I made an excuse to leave. He wasn't born with it.

Now, who's to say who deserves what? Why was I complaining? In the first place, what had I done to earn my right to a healthy body, legs to run forever on, a healthy cardiovascular system? As much as I wanted to claim all those things, I realised that they were blessings, gifts, and not rights. What right did I have to blame God? In the first place, was not the ability to cycle, the opportunity to meet all my cycling buddies, the chance to meet and train with J on all those early mornings before school gifts I had not earned?

A lot of people ask me why I love to run since long-distance running causes so much pain. It is not the training I find painful at all, for the pain of running pales in comparison to the pain of the emotional, psychological and spiritual growth that the training process brings one through.

So with both eyes tired from crying, I decided not to run. Then in the evening, Aunty Ay called, "Wai Jia, I think you should show up for the race. I'm going to pray for you, and I want you to show up at the starting line tomorrow. It doesn't matter if you finish the race or not. Just try, and stop when you need to. I think God may have something to teach you through this, even though things don't make sense now. Read Psalm 51 tonight."

Psalm 51: 16-17 says, " For You do not desire sacrifice, or else I would give it... The sacrifices of God are a broken and contrite spirit..."

At once, I realised that this time, things were different. Instead of wanting me to simply give up another race, God wanted me to check my attitude towards this race. What was I running for? Exhausted from being mad and sad at Him, I slept early.

At 4.30am the next day, I awoke, still overwhelmed by the previous day's whirlwind of emotions. I packed my things, half-ready for the race, and in the most bizarre way over breakfast, felt a divine peace and revelation that I should, must run this race. Funnily, I had no pain. It was a breakthrough moment for me in my emotional and spiritual journey, for I realised I had come to a point of maturity where God was no longer asking me to give up or let go what I enjoyed- but that I could continue to live life to the full, as long as I kept my heart humble and broken, not proud and hardened.

Even at the starting point, I was in fear. All this while J and I had agreed that we would run together, but since I had told J I may not be running because of my pain, she was psyched up to push herself all the way. We agreed that for my knee's sake, she should go ahead without me. I panicked.

21 kilometres by myself. I've never done that before. This is crazy, God, I'm not going to make it. At the starting point, with thousands of runners stretching and the atmosphere dripping with adrenaline, I was overwhelmed.

I ran. Oh, how I ran. Every step was a literal and metaphorical step of faith, a sacred act of trust in God to carry me through. The sky was amazing, the weather cool and crisp. Along the way, God provided angels to talk and run with me. Jasmine, a teenage girl who just had her prom the night before; Uncle Lim, an elderly man who wrote 'I live, therefore I run' on the back of his shirt; Irene, a breast cancer survivor who was thankful to have company... all of whom I eventually had to overtake because my legs went faster, faster... and a man named Uncle Simon, who loved God deeply too, who knew about Kitesong, and who had a brother who is a missionary, too. He said he had prayed to meet an angel on the race, because he needed someone to pace him since he wasn't in top form. "And that must be YOU!" he exclaimed. As we ran and talked about God together, we both sense a tangibly divine presence with us as goosebumps formed all over our skin. He text messaged me later, "This was the worst run of my life because I didn't train for it, but meeting you made my day."

Oh, how I ran. I ran like I never ran before. At the 16km mark, I text messaged my dad and Aunty Ay, "I'm at the 16km mark. No pain."

At points where it got hard, I simply thought of the prayer W had prayed for me the night before, " Your knee will be healed. Just go try tomorrow." And while practially speaking that may be foolish advice to some, he also added that I must not hesitate to stop if I felt any discomfort.

The pain never came. I ran and I ran and I ran, and I couldn't stop smiling, couldn't stop feeling so grateful for the weather and my flat feet. Through the entire way, I kept bumping into familiar faces, friends, and ended up overtaking them. Suddenly I became so thankful for my flat and ugly feet, filled with blisters and corns and cracked skin. I realised, that my feet of clay made me humble, kept me always thankful to God for all things, big and small.

When I saw the finish line, there was the biggest smile on my face. I finished, in stunned stupor, in disbelief that the 21 kilometres were over, and that I never felt alone through the journey, even though I was so worried at the start.

"Wai Jia," J said, "You're really blessed. You know the organisers of the race took EIGHT photos of you on the website? And you looked so happy in all of them. My sis and I only got 1 each!"

I learnt, that with the right heart attitude, we don't always have to give up what we love. God isn't a meanie. He wants us to have life, and life to the full. What's most important, is a thankful spirit and a humble heart, eyes to see His face and ears to hear His voice.

Truly, it was a fantastic race. Thank you W, Aunty Ay and Michael, for praying for me. Thank you J, for believing in me and training with me and loving me all this while. Thank you to my family, for supporting me and getting me insoles for my flat feet.

And thank you God, for showing me that even in the midst of grander things, these mundane everyday activities of our lives matter to you. Thank you for the emotional pain you bring me through. Because of that, the physical pain when I run fades into nothingness as I am drawn close to you. Thank you for my flat feet. It is precisely because of them, that I realise that I don't run alone- your wings carry me.

There is still no pain in my knee.

This was truly, my best run- ever.

"For You do not desire sacrifice, or else I would give it...

The sacrifices of God are a broken and contrite spirit,

A broken and contrite heart-

These, O God, You will not despise."

- Psalm 51:16-17

" C.T Studd gae up a promising future in international cricket

to become a missionary in China.

In his biography of C.T Studd, Norman Grubb wrote, '

C.T never regretted that he played cricket...

for by applying himself to the game he learned

lessons of courage, self-denial and endurance

which, after his life had been fully consecrated to God,

were used in his service to Him."

- What the Book says about Sport

by Stuart Weir

Cheers.

They say old habits die hard.

Perhaps it is not so much the habits themselves which bind us to them, but the familiarity and comfort we find there which makes us run back to them, no matter if they are good for us or not. Very often, they aren't anyway.

Like a child running back to his mother's arms, what feels familiar always feels good. But there comes a time where doing so may no longer be appropriate, and running to the right place, back to God, will require new courage, new trust and new faith. Just like how it takes a great deal of commitment and faith for an alcoholic to find his solace elsewhere, many of us probably require that same steely inner strength to turn away from old coping mechanisms to someplace new, someplace unfamiliar, but ultimately better for us in the long run.

In the face of depression or stress, can we choose to pray instead of smoke, excercise instead of binge, call a friend or journal instead of feeding on pornography?

While the stronger part of us is eternally seeking renewal and rebirth, the weaker part shall forever strive to crawl back to the past, dragging our growth down like dead weights. There is a war between spirit and flesh. Unless we consciously and doggedly refocus our efforts on what is newer but unfamiliar, we will forever stagnate. Will we not?

When you look into the mirror, do you see part old, and part new? Does it frustrate you.

I was looking into the mirror just the other day when I found myself surprised at just how much my body has changed. It is vastly different from when I was ill with anorexia 2 years ago. In fact, it is different from any other time in my life. For one, I don't ever remember myself ever having calves or thighs this muscular (in girl terms of course). I don't remember my body ever looking this way, nor my skin being so tanned ever in my life. I also don't remember my weight ever being this... high. Ever since I've started cycling, swimming and running on a regular basis, my weight has been climbing. And though I try to remember that muscle is, after all, thrice the density of fat, it is still psychologically a frightful event for a member of the female species.

Suddenly, I became afraid of and exasperated with my body. I became confused and angry with myself. On one hand, I can't thank God enough for helping me find a genuine joy in sports, find genuine friends who are real gemstones to train with and befriend, find genuine freedom in enjoying recreational sports as God-given gifts instead of being enslaved to them. On the other, the old self was seething with jealousy inside, determined to rob me of this joy, as it constantly reminded me how different and therefore ugly my new body was, and challenged to put it down.

It's too bulky. Look what roadcycling has done to your thighs. Look what long distance running has done to your calves. Look at what swimming has done to your shoulders and arms. Look at the number on the scale- you're a whisker away from being sixty kilos. Now weren't you better off in the past?

Better off? Like when I was ill, you mean?

I am learning, temptation will always be there. We will always have the choice to turn back to our old ways. I know it will only take a moment of folly, insecurity and weakness to make ruin all I've taken to come this far in recovery. It will be too easy to to revert to my old ways of self-deprivation. Running to Ed is, or rather, was my natural coping mechanism, something I was comfortable with. After all, Ed was familiar.

But I am learning, that while human beings have a natural tendency to return to the old, we don't have to, especially when we realise God promises us life afresh with Him.

Today, I received an unexpected email from a sender who made me jump in my seat. It was a well-known senior surgeon whom many of peers admire who had got wind of this space and sent me his thoughts. It got me thinking.

Dear Wai Jia,

... I've recently come across your Kitesong blog and

wanted to thank you for your courage in sharing the journey you are on... ...

The turbulent conflicts you have shared remind me

how obediently you are allowing yourself to be a new wineskin:

stretching and trustingly accomodating

even the uncomfortable bubbling up and

overflowing of the maturing new wine being poured into your life.

In the words of Keith Green,

keep on keeping your heart's wineskin 'new', 'soft' and 'oiled'!

Thank you! ....

Blessings!

J

There is a story in the bible about God telling people not to put new wine into old wineskin. (Wineskin is often made of goat's skin and was used to contain wine in the past.) This is because when new wine ferments in the old wineskin made of animal skin, it produces so much gas that it causes the old vessel to rupture, ruining both the original container and the precious new liquid.

It made me think-are we not like that too? Parts of us have matured, moved on and grown wiser. Yet, when we allow our old mindsets to continue to dwell in us and ferment, are we not creating an opportunity to hijack ourselves, to ruin ourselves completely again?

This evening, I was using my artist's eye to critically examine my body in the mirror, so surprised and also ambivalent at how different it is now when it suddenly struck me- that my newfound security in God, in myself and in my body is the new wine God has been pouring into me. And unless I throw out that old wineskin (that old familiar picture of a sickly-thin body which my old mind desired and was comfortable running back to), my new wine shall war with old wineskin till it ruptures, the precious new wine God has poured within me shall spill and all shall be lost.

Perhaps, growing is really all about trusting God to make us who we were meant to be. Trying to be in control can often be a hindrance.

I remember how I used to try to control too many things, and try to achieve too many things by myself to find some sense of security. Running longer and longer distances on my own was a form of gaining some sort of control. I was always too tired. Yet, when I learnt to let go, not only did God teach me how to cycle, He released an entire community of friends to me who gave me newfound heights of liberty, joy and peace to run, swim, cycle guiltlessly with and reach levels of achievement I never, ever would have reached myself. Last Sunday, my 2 marathon-enthusiast friends took me on a neverending trail. We ended up completing my longest distance ever, something my too-tired, too-individualistic, too-frail body would never have been able to do in the past. More importantly, it wasn't the distance we covered or the timing within which we completed it that mattered, but the company, the friendship we shared. Somehow, when we focus on what's important, God takes us further than we ever could imagine.

Instead of being fairer and lighter, training has made me darker, more muscular and heavier- attributes not nearly most girls desire. Today, on the first day of school after a one-week break, I was exasperated by some of the insensitive things which were said to me by teasing boys again. They take it as affectionate teasing, a form of unrelentless amusement, not nearly as amusing to me at times though I try to graciously laugh along. But over the week, spending time with Am has really affirmed me in many ways. Being treated like a lady and being occasionally pampered by him has been a blessing, to say the least. So I am learning, that it is my own mind which I must try to change. I must no longer hold on to the old mind of insecurity, and hope that they will someday see how unhelpful and sometimes plain mean their comments can be. For rootedness in God is unshakeable, even in the face of the most heartless of teasing. With God, I can turn the other cheek to be hit again without resentment.

I am learning, that throughout this entire process of trusting my body and mind with God, of becoming more secure in Him, and being more comfortable with who I am and not just what I do, God has been refilling me with new wine. And I must learn to embrace the new wineskin He is giving me too.

Lest I yearn for old mindsets and crave for the very thing which could destroy me.

For God also said to them, "And no one, having drunk old wine, immediately desires new; for he says, 'The old is better.'"

The old always feels more comfortable.

"God loves you Wai Jia. Don't ever allow the devil to lie to you and rob you of His faithful promises. You're a beautiful girl."

So I'm not going to be afraid to enjoy running, swimming and cycling. I'm not going to be afraid to enjoy brownie and ice-cream in the company of people I love. Sixty, is just another number.

So here's to new wine and new wineskin. Cheers.

" And no one puts new wine into old wineskins;

or else the new wine will burst the wineskins and be spilled,

and the wineskins will be ruined.

But new wine must be put into new wineskins,

and both are preserved."

- Luke 5: 37-38

First Try. *photos added

And not forgetting
my parents,

-for sponsoring all my sporting gear and

for supporting me in all my strange and varied interests

with sometimes more excitement than I,

and for keeping me in check.

This race would never have been possible

if it weren't for what you've blessed me with
so generously, as always,

and if it weren't for your amazing trust to let me pursue

where my heart takes me

be it going to another developing country

or taking up another crazy hobby,
even if it involves giving you another heart attack ;)

It's really cool to know that
you two can sometimes be more excited about what I do than I am.

And I just want you to know,

that the race medal is yours too.

Just sharing that moment with you

And seeing that smile on your faces
was Bliss.

And thank you God,

for my 2 arms, 2 feet of clay and a

healthy mind & body,

(which I now understand and realise not everyone has,

so I no longer take life for granted).

Thank You for placing Fungus in my life.

I can't believe You taught me

how to cycle on 2 wheels only last October,

how to swim freestyle in the sea only in June,

and how to revel in the gift of having a healthy vessel

and honouring it to honour You.

Just 2 years ago, I was so ill.

The medal means much to me only because

it reminds me of so many angels

You placed in my path,

without which,

I would never have started nor completed the race.

I never believed

I could do something like this-

I am naturally scared, anxious and once upon a time was overweight.
And I thought You wanted me to give this whole pursuit up.

But little did I realise that:

When we show you how little these things mean to us

in comparison to You,

You turn around to show us

How much we mean to You.

Michael came to church with me after the race for Saturday service.

He saw that I couldn't stop crying,

Because I was so grateful

to You.

I learnt,

that nothing is inherently good or evil,

But our attitude towards it makes it so.

Sports,

or anything else for that matter,

-working, studying, painting, eating, birdwatching, dancing-

can be holy and pleasing to You

as long as we remember

that it is a gift from You.

Michael came in First in his race catergory on Sunday,

completing a full Olympic distance

after he had already done a sprint distance on Saturday.

He was so thankful to You for His strength.

Michael says,
that You are pleased when I swim, cycle and run
in gratitude to You.

Even if it is a little race, like the mini one I did.

And so I cried,

Because for the first time,

I felt Your pleasure.

And that kept me going through the race,

keeps me going still,

Even as I'm On the Road.

This race was one of blood, sweat and tears,

literally.

Truly, I cannot ask for more.

2 of my cycling buddies by me, and our medals

Tired.

Thank you to those of you who've shared in my joy in my journey,
and who have encouraged me in one way or another.

Thank you God.

" I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith."

- 2 Timothy 4:7

*photos courtesy of Ernest, Danielle and KL

Along the way.

We are standing up against gravity. We are moving forward against wind resistance. We are living against death, are we not? Everyday, forces from all sides assault and assail us, ageing us with monotony, dimming out visions with disappointment, and dehumanising us with digits, statistics, efficiency. Living, in its very self, requires a constant struggle against something, for when we let go and give up, our environment becomes us, becomes something we can be ashamed of.

Work dehumanises us. At the office, one is labelled a "staff"; at the hospital, we are labelled "students". You are a staff in an office who needs to churn this report out; you are a student who ought to be a shadow behind a doctor, and see X number of patients with X disease- no matter if you can't remember their names because there're ten other patients waiting outside who've been waiting for an hour who need you to treat their conditions. Cause no trouble, meet your quota, and you will be okay. I have come to a point where I realise, that if one does not constantly fight against this deadening gravity which convinces one that one is a faceless, nameless labourer in an organisation meant to complete tasks and hit marks, one shall surely live, only to give in to death.

Suddenly, I became aware, that if I do not stay on guard and fight against this force called Medical School, this institution which claims to nobly produce humane and compassionate doctors, shall very well dry me out and kill me- like the many casualties before.

What Mdm H wrote that day sobered me. Because I realised, that in spite of her kind words and encouragement which really moved me, I had fallen in the same places, erred at the same corners, made the same mistakes, too. Being an idealist, I have a picture of what a doctor should be like too. And while it disappoints me to hear bad-doctor experiences from others, I now realise that if this erosive force could assail these doctors who once bore noble ideals and aspirations, it could happen to me, too. Worse, I realised that, it has been happening to me, and is happening to me now, too. That incident was only but one- but I have failed many more times before.

A typical day for a medical officer starts at 6 in the morning because you've got to report at the hospital for morning ward rounds at 730am. You review all the patients and make plans for each of their issues. Two hours pass quickly and at 9am, you are either at the clinic seeing patients till the evening, or at the operating theatre. Lunch is quick, if present at all. One or two days a week, there is a night call, which is a 36-hour shift, where one has to handle all the emergencies of the ward for the night, only to bathe briefly to attend the next morning's round at 730am. The cycle continues, every day, over and over. You rush from one crisis to the next, but the work never ends. There are always new patients to see, and the existing ones keep asking the nurses, "How come the doctor only comes to see me for 3 minutes every day?" New people fall sick- it is a fact of life, and unless you enjoy your work, the routine shall surely poison you.

Mdm H's writing was a wake-up call for me. I realise that as much as I wished to, I could take no credit for the kindness she had lavished upon me- for I am but a medical student in my favorite module, and under the same stresses of a doctor's life, I cannot say I would not behave in the same detached and professional manner that doctors may often do. Would I have the time then to sit with her to chat, listen and pray? I do not know. It woke me up to the reality which is shaping who I am. And I learnt, that I do not like the way some parts of me is becoming- stressed, curt and too efficient at times. There is a forcefield out there draining us out, and we must be on our guard to fight tooth and nail against it- all the time.

I am learning, that even though we have the end in mind all the time, our success lies in our vigilance in the day-to-day, every day. Very often, in our journeys to reach our noble goals, we lose ourselves along the way.

Perhaps the greatest challenge we face, is not when we are at the starting point visualising ourselves at the end, but what we do and think in between those two points.

I think that was what I was most afraid of while training for my first triathlon-losing myself. I was afraid that Ed would creep back into my life. But this time, God has been gracious, sending angels to battle for me against the many forcefields which ought to have embittered and disenabled me. There were points of discouragement, but God sent people to remind me never to be complacent, never to be so enraptured by the endpoint only to forget the process along the way. Even though the race is tomorrow, I feel like I've already won the crown, for it was the journey till the race which was the greatest challenge, not the race itself, and so the victory has been won- for this is the first time I have journeyed this way with so much peace, joy and freedom. This is the first time I have learnt what it means to surrender oneself to God in sports, what it means to really trust Him and enjoy the gifts He has blessed us with. This is the first time I've learnt so much- physically and spiritually. This is the first time I've had so much fun learning along the way.

And I hope the journey in medical school, or for your work will be likewise too. That it will be the many victories along the way that we will allow to shape us, and fight against the gravity of this world, instead of letting our destinations distract us from the importance of growing through Process. I hope that realising this will give me hope to be the kind of doctor Mdm H had envisioned, and not the doctor I am becoming now (sigh). I must remind myself of the importance of fighting against this resistance- with joy and courage, every day.

Tomorrow, many people will stand at the starting point of the swim, bike and run, bracing themselves for what may be one of the biggest challenges of their lives. But I think I shall stand, albeit at the beginning of a very short and modest race, knowing that the greatest challenge has already been fought for me, by His angels-

- and then the fun will begin.

Thank you to all my friends who have made this journey so exceptionally exciting-

To Fungus who inspired me to try a tri;

all my friends at Joyriders for training with me, teaching me and for your unfailing encouragement (esp. Derrick, Alvin, Jeslyn, Mabel, Peter);

Amos, Raymond, Norman & Jiajie for teaching me freestyle swimming;

Michael for showing me God's way of doing sports;

Aunty Ay and Jo, for keeping me accountable;

my church, for helping me grow;

all my other friends (you know who you are, yes) for your encouragement

and Prof Kok, who sold this idea to me like a drug peddlar since the beginning,

for your example to me and all your help

along the way :)

This is going to be so much fun, not least because I know that I'll reach the finish point tomorrow. But only because of what all of you and You taught me, and the victories You helped me win- along the way.

Life is a journey, not a destination,
the joy is in the travels & experiences.

-Anonymous

Arms of an Angel.

I wanted to chicken out. All this time I had the assurance of God being with me and at the final moment, I just wanted... out.

It was the night before my race, and the night our medicine clinical exams ended. And though having the nerve-wracking exams over gave me a sigh of relief, adrenalin flowed through my veins like caffeine and gave me no rest. It was 2am, I had already had many late nights studying in the week, the stress had resulted in my worsening chronic diarrhoea (a completely benign condition called irritable bowel syndrom) and I knew I wasn't going to make the timing I had planned for the race I had trained for.

The race meant a lot to me. I had been looking forward to it for months. It was the first 10-kilometre race I had trained for with a healthy mind and body ever since Recovery- during which, at the initial phase, training was out of the question. It was significant because it meant that running no longer had an evil stronghold over me. It meant that Ed had lost his power over me.

All this while, I felt God with me, and His approval for my returning to something I loved, without the taint of sickness or idolatry. I had eaten and trained well. And being able to finally hear my own voice without doubting myself, make my own sensible choices about running and eating, without the echoes of Ed, was a real breakthrough.

But it was 2am, my mind was rushing with thoughts and anxieties and for the first time, I realised that hardly anyone had wished me the best for this significant milestone in my life. We had just had the exams and everybody was swamped with activities. So, exhausted, anxious and discouraged, I didn't trust enough that God would help me to overcome this hurdle-the little girl inside of me desperately needed encouragement and affirmation, but there was surprisingly none- I had kept a low profile about training this year. Oh God, I'm just not going to make it.

The more I mulled over my distrust in His healing for me and my fears, the more awake I was. And then these words from my tattered bible leapt to me, "Those that wait upon God shall renew their strength. They shall run and not be weak, they shall walk and not be weary."

I had given myself a million excuses to forgo the run, but had forgotten that my strength and motivation this time came not primarily from my sleep, egotistical self-affirmation or needy affirmation from others- it was from God, and He wanted me to know it. Trust me, I heard Him say, just like you always have- every time.

And I fell asleep.

My legs were like lead the next morning. I checked my phone the last time and saw no text message of encouragement. Disappointment and discouragement weighed on my ankles like dead weights. But I remembered the words which lulled me to bed, and put on my running shoes. Trust me, I want you to learn that I am enough for you.

As soon as we started I wanted to turn back, wanted to fall out of the many thousand-fold pack and head home. But I saw a young girl who had given up by the wayside and ran up to encourage her- " Hey, press on- you can do it." I smiled encouragingly, and pushed ahead.

We had barely hit the halfway mark when fatigue crept in. The many stressful late nights spent learning about Parkinson's, heart attacks and neurological disorders had taken its toll. I wanted to stop, but the same young girl caught up with me and said, "Can I run with you?"

Though she had hit a rough patch far earlier in the race, she recovered well while I struggled more and more. But every time I did, she cheered me on and in the final lap when I told her to go ahead, she waited for me, as if in thanks for my initial gesture of grace to her.

We ran, and I found strength encouraging others along the way.

When I was anorexic, running miles on empty was nothing to me, as empty pride, depression and puffed-up idolatry was fuel. At no point did I ever admit defeat. It was a powerful driving force, one that led to my demise. But well and healthy now, my acute awareness of my weaknesses, of my dependence on God have changed my perspective. Understanding the meaningless-ness of running without God gave me life again. (His pleasure is not in the strength of the horse, nor his delight in the legs of a man- Psalm 147:10) And paradoxically, that is what changed my life for the better, what resurrected me. At my 6th, 7th and 8th kilometre, when I felt like giving up, it was God, sent through a running angel by my side, and not Ed who encouraged me on. And when I recognised that, I wanted to cry.

She ran together with me to the finish line and her first question to me was if I believed in God, too. Born in China, she grew up in the middle east as a nominal moslem and found Christ only in Singapore. Immediately, tears ran down my cheeks. I also realised, that my timing was far from what I had aimed for, but suddenly, it didn't matter. I trusted, He came through for me- and that was the prize in itself.

Sometimes, challenges in life can make us doubt ourselves. We make up excuses to avoid them because we fear to miss the mark we set for ourselves, based on our own pride and ego. We fear, because we do not trust.

I cried, because He came through for me. At every step of the way, I was vulnerable and weak- I could stop at any time. But I finished the race, He was with me through it all, and Ed was nowhere to be found.

So I cried, in the arms of an angel, because He told me to trust, I did- and as usual, He came through for me.

"Yet those who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.

They shall mount up with wings as eagles.

They shall run and not be weary,

they shall walk and not be weak."

- Isaiah 40:31