While scrolling online news headlines, taking in the bitter daily dose of shootings, accidents, invasions and economic downturns, I found a news story that reversed my scowl.
It seems that every January, in support of the track and field programs at the local school, the rural town of Elkmont, Alabama (population 400) holds a half-marathon called the Trackless Train. The community will never forget what happened during the 2016, twenty-one kilometre run.
At the starting shot, an unregistered runner set off with the rest. Despite her unusual presence, no one complained. She ran with dogged determination. Except for a few brief pauses to investigate road kill or splash in a pond, she stayed with the pack. She made the joggers smile. Some said later that she motivated them to press on when they grew weary. To finish the course.
Some marathoners had noticed the sad-faced young bloodhound at the start line. They assumed she belonged to another runner. But even those who hadn’t seen her there couldn’t miss the glossy chestnut dog, ears flapping, as she wove in and out between their legs, her own feet pounding the trail.
At one point, noticing the pup’s heaving sides and drooping tongue, one of the racers called to the support team on the sidelines. “Someone give that dog some water.” The hound lapped eagerly, then loped off to regain her place.
Not until the finish line did the marathon participants get the rest of the story.
Earlier that morning, her owner had let the two-and-a-half-year old Ludivine out for her usually solitary amble. When she happened on the crowd milling around the start line she simply did what God built her to do. She followed the pull. The voice inside that urged, “RUN!”
The young bloodhound ran the entire course. No one pushing. No leash pulling.
Her owner, April Hamlin, first heard of her pet’s accomplishment when a friend sent pictures from the finish line. Mrs. Hamlin was shocked at her “very lazy” dog. “I’m not even a runner,” she said.
Ludivine finished seventh overall, the highest-placed female. Despite not having registered, the organizers presented her with a red ribbon bearing a special medal. And apparently the marathon’s organizers are considering changing the name of the annual run to “The Hound Dog Half.”
Many people pride themselves on effective planning. We’ve learned the importance of stewarding well our most precious non-renewable resource. Time. So we cover every eventuality, mitigate each possible risk and organize our calendars months in advance.
I wonder what God could do with us if we followed Ludivine’s example. If we weren’t so afraid to heed his sudden sweet tug to do the glorious good. The wholly holy unexpected. To toss our predictable schedules and beeping little machines aside. For an hour. A day. A month. To run like Ludivine, fuelled by the strong wind of his Holy Spirit inside. I wonder.
We won’t know until the finish line.
