As the quarterback drops back and throws, the receiver hesitantly extends his arms toward to the ball. Sensing a defensive player closing in, he’s not eager to complete the catch. His focus is more on protecting himself from the defense’s attack. In situations like this, when a receiver demonstrates partial effort in catching a ball, it can be said he has “alligator arms.” And likewise, our faith can be like having “alligator arms.” At times, we fail to take full advantage of our opportunities to grow in our relationship with Christ or share our faith with others because we are afraid of what the costs may be. We let fear of circumstances control us, because we prefer to stay safe in our “comfort zone” rather than stretching ourselves and trusting in God.

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.

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.

I have been coaching for more than 20 years. After spending 17 of those coaching at the collegiate level, I decided to step down and enter the “slower paced” high school environment. To my surprise, I found out quickly that teaching and coaching at the high school level was just as challenging, time-consuming and hectic as coaching in college. In some ways, it is even more stressful, as I found myself running ragged trying to get everything done.