Spotlight

This morning, I had loads to do, so I planned my agenda accordingly. I knew going to the gym would take enough time to interfere with some of my scheduled events, so I decided to use the gym downstairs in my apartment building instead. It would be quicker. I wouldn’t have to pack a bag, drive anywhere, or worry about changing afterward.

When I walked in, I saw a man and a woman using two of the three treadmills. One was open. Perfect, no waiting. I could start right away. About half a mile into my run, the sun began to rise. Before long, its light came through the windows and landed directly on my treadmill. First, it reached my forehead. Then my eyes. Then my entire face. The brightness made it difficult to focus. I kept trying to find some shade, shifting my attention away from my run and toward the light in front of me. Even the music playing through my AirPods seemed less powerful because my mind was consumed by the distraction. The two people next to me didn't have the same problem. They were comfortably positioned in the shade, completely unaffected by the sunlight.

Great. This sucks.

I could feel my energy and enthusiasm fading. I wanted to escape the discomfort. I wanted the light to move. Then I looked straight ahead. In front of me was a black screen. It wasn't displaying anything. Just turned off. But when I looked at it more closely, I realized I wasn't really looking at a screen. I was looking at myself. Sweat covered my face. I was breathing harder with every step. My body was tired, but I was still running.

And suddenly, the sunlight didn't feel like such a distraction.

I realized that what I was looking at wasn't just my reflection. I was looking at someone who carried light of his own—a light that revealed the journey, the struggles, and the battles he had overcome.

People may have treated him poorly. They may have made him feel worthless. They may have doubted him, underestimated him, or tried to convince him that his circumstances defined his future. But there I was, standing in the spotlight, still moving.

Still running.

Still fighting.

The light made it harder to see, but somehow, it also helped me see more clearly. I saw a person who hadn't thrown in the white flag. A person who refused to let hardship decide the path ahead.

Sometimes, the very thing that makes it difficult to see the road in front of us can reveal who we are becoming. And as I kept running, I realized something:

I wasn't losing energy because of the light. I was learning how to run through it.