One of my favorite childhood memories came on my eleventh birthday, March 15, 1972. I received a gift that would set me head and shoulders above everyone else in the neighborhood. It was something that would make me the envy of all my friends. I received the coolest bicycle in the world—a real “big boy” bike. I’m telling you, it was so shiny and bright! It had a white frame with a blue glitter banana  seat, blue glitter handles, and tassels. It was indeed the envy of all my friends. To top it off, it had blue tires. That  bike made me the coolest kid in the neighborhood.

Endurance means putting one foot in front of the other no matter how things are going. At the London Marathon, a lot of the hard parts of that race were talking myself through the rough patches. The marathon is a good analogy for life in general. You’re going to go through those rough patches where you don’t feel good. You can either get down on yourself and cave in and start doing poorly, or you can tell yourself you’re doing great and you’re going to do your best no matter how you’re feeling or how slow you start. I really had to mentally coach myself through some rough patches in that race, and I think that’s the big part of endurance. Tough times are inevitable. They’re going to come.

What should we do when our friends repeatedly make the same sinful mistakes? Some would say, “I cannot change them.” Others would say, “That’s just who they are,” and even, “They will never listen to me.” However, if these friends are followers of Christ, we need to hold them to the commitments they made in Christ. They need to hold us to the same standard as well. We all need accountability. When someone feels he/she does not need it, that is the beginning of great trials ahead.

The runners slipped past me one by one. When I looked behind me, I didn’t see anyone left. Denial set in. I couldn’t possibly be in last place, could I? It had felt like I was running right on pace!

I cranked my neck around—something our coach had told us never to do—and, in a panic, again, I saw no one. I couldn’t reconcile myself to the thought of finishing in last place. No runner who competes at state their freshman year could possibly finish last at the district meet in their sophomore year.

I knew I had to make the decision whether or not to finish the race. The thought crossed my mind that if I dropped out, I wouldn’t finish last, but something in my heart told me that that’s not what was supposed to happen.

Marquette’s football team was 10–0 heading into the final game of the season, facing the possibility of the program’s first championship. But a few days before the game, the coach received a call: sixteen of his starters had been arrested for underage drinking! Team rules dictated alcohol use as punishable by suspension. The next week the coach watched his team’s hopes evaporate into a 63–0 loss while sixteen regular starters stood on the sidelines.

If you think about it, the idea of lifting weights seems like an odd concept. “You want me to do what to my body? Why would I intentionally hurt myself? That doesn’t make any sense.” But we all know that even though our bodies are initially torn up they rebuild themselves to become much stronger and tougher.

There’s a scene in the Disney movie “Aladdin” in which Jasmine is out on the balcony of her palace and Aladdin is on his magic carpet trying to get her to come with him and go explore “A Whole New World.” The key line in the scene is when Aladdin says to Jasmine, “Do you trust me?” Jasmine agrees to trust Aladdin and is taken on the ride of her life!

That same type of trust is required from us as Christians when we decide to follow God. With God, belief alone is not enough; we must trust Him with our lives. Just believing in God is no good to us. We need to have faith in Him, and trust is the next step from faith.

One mission, one focus, one man carrying out a plan for one purpose: Gary Brasher is that man! On November 20-22, 2009, Gary will do what is seemingly unthinkable by completing back-to-back-to-back Iron-distance triathlons to raise funds for student-athletes to go to FCA Camps. During those three grueling days, he will cover 422.6 miles. So, why would he do this? Why would he put his body through such suffering and pain? Because he is a man on a mission.

Every time I hear about a coach who has been fired after a year or two at a school, it breaks my heart. I once told an athletic director that it would take four years to turn a program around to contend for a league championship. That was not what he wanted to hear, so I did not get the job.

In our society we want everything right now. Actually, we wanted it yesterday. A great example is in the fact that we actually drive through places to get our food. At most fast food places they don’t even hold the cup to fill your drink anymore; they put it on a belt, it goes under a fountain, they push a button, and the drink comes out. I suppose it’s faster. I’m not sure it’s better, but it’s faster.

Each contest we’re involved in as coaches is filled with missed opportunities, errors, and mistakes. In some games, like volleyball, basketball, softball, and baseball, we have only a few seconds to respond to shortcomings or errors. In other sports like football, golf, and track and field, response time may be longer. Regardless of the seconds or minutes that tick away, our reactions to our players’ mistakes are critical, not only for their confidence but often for the outcome of the game.

After losing every game during soccer season, I learned a lot about perseverance, or “doing the deal” in the face of great odds. We all like to win, but it becomes harder for a coach and her players to keep going during a losing streak. It’s not easy encouraging players to win when they realistically don’t have a chance. What we needed in our town was a recreational soccer league. Such a league would be instrumental in helping players develop their skills; however, those who could make the league happen didn’t believe it would be successful. Consequently, I wrestled in prayer about whether or not I was really called to coach; it didn’t appear that I was doing the players any good.

On a brisk Saturday morning a while ago, I hit the running trail with my FCA Endurance teammates for an 18-mile training run. The trail was desolate, and over time my fatigued mind began to drift back to my warm car waiting in the parking lot. We were more than 15 miles into the run, and the thought of less than a 5K left begged me to push harder and finish strong, but still I just didn’t feel like giving it my all.

It was about that time that I heard a sound—one that meant more to me than it did to my running buddies. It was the sound of an approaching train, and its noise drowned out the heavy breathing of our tiring pack.