Run Towards What Matters
Most of life can be walked at a steady pace. But the things that bring peace to the soul? Those are worth the sprint.
The Truth in the Hurry
Most of life doesn’t require a sprint. You can get where you’re going just fine by walking — steady, unhurried, without panic.
But every once in a while, something shows up that is worth running for.
Not work. Not deadlines. Not the things that drain you. But the things that make your soul feel at home.
The last place I thought this truth would be self-evident was in an airport.
Chaos in the Terminal
Flying these days feels like a slow unraveling of patience. Early mornings blur into long security lines, connections hang by a thread, delays pile on delays, and every face around you seems drawn tight with irritation. It’s exhausting in a way that lingers.
Right after Labor Day, I found myself in the thick of it. My 5 a.m. flight out of Des Moines was delayed by three hours, which meant my carefully planned connection at O’Hare—already one of my least favorite places in all of America—was now reduced to an impossible eighteen minutes.
Sitting there in the gate area, watching passengers spill out of the plane I’d soon be boarding, I spotted a few familiar faces. Friends from church were just returning from their mission trip in Tijuana, weary but smiling. Their leader wrapped me in a hug and told me about their own ordeal: delays, missed flights, an unplanned night in Chicago before finally making it home.
It was a moment of comfort, in its own way, but it also foreshadowed the chaos I was about to step into.
The First “run”
Eventually, we boarded. I queued up a Netflix documentary, let the hours drift by, and before long the wheels touched down in Chicago. My phone buzzed back to life: “Flight boards in 25 minutes.”
For those who know O’Hare, twenty-five minutes is roughly the time it takes just to taxi from runway to gate. The odds weren’t good. Somehow, though, the pilots hustled, and eighteen minutes later we pulled into gate H2. My connection was at G8.
I started running the alphabet in my head: A, B, C…G, H. If H is next to G, maybe I have a chance.
Bag slung over my shoulder, I half-jogged out of the jet bridge and into the terminal, already weaving through the crowd. My heart rate ticked up, legs shifting into that awkward in-between of a walk and a sprint.
And then, mid-stride, the thought struck me:
Why am I even running?
Running to catch a flight that had already eaten seven hours of my morning? Running for a work trip that didn’t even fully begin until Wednesday? There would be other flights. Missing this one wasn’t the end of the world.
So I slowed down. I walked quickly, rehearsing the excuse I’d give the gate agent if the door was already closed. But when I turned the corner, the announcement rang out: “Group 9, now boarding.”
I had made it without breaking a sweat.
The Run That Mattered
A few days later, after a blur of meetings and conversations, it was time to head home. And wouldn’t you know it—another delay, another tight connection, another déjà vu moment at O’Hare.
As we landed, the pilot’s voice came over the intercom: our gate was still occupied, so we’d be waiting. My phone lit up just like before: “Flight boards in 30 minutes.”
I knew the drill. Maybe if I sprinted I could make it.
Maybe.
The same question returned, this time with more clarity: Why run?
But in that moment, the answer was obvious.
Run, because this time I wasn’t running for work. I was running towards home.
Towards the house I share with my fiancée.
Towards the cats we treat like children.
Towards the city where my parents live.
Towards the place where the best years of my life have unfolded.
So, I ran.
Pants sagging, lungs burning, weaving through travelers with a chorus of midwestern “’scuse me’s” and “opes.” My gate, of course, was the very last one in the terminal.
And then I heard it: “Final boarding call for home.”
I don’t know if they actually said the city name, but all I heard was home.
I pushed harder. Legs heavy, lungs tight, sweat stinging my eyes.
And then—finally—the gate agent spotted me. “Going home?” she called out across the crowd. All I could do was nod.
I made it.
The Truth Revealed
Most of life can be walked at a steady pace. You’ll get there eventually.
But the few things that set your chest on fire—the people you love, the place your soul calls home, the future you ache for—those are the things worth running for.
Everything else? Let it wait.
Your legs only have so many sprints in them.
Use them wisely.
Run towards what matters.
What’s the thing in your life that’s worth the sprint? I’d love to hear it. Share this piece with someone who might need the reminder, and if you’re new here, subscribe to Soul Mana so we can keep running toward what matters together.