The communion of saints will take us to the finish

On a bright sunny day in Vancouver about 15 years ago I witnessed my first long-distance run. The videographer working with me knew where to get the best shots — at the bottom of a hill on Georgia Street, about a kilometre from the starting line.

Staring up the empty street we waited. The first sign of movement was a line of bobbing heads as runners emerged over the top of the hill. What followed was an avalanche of humanity undulating down the street. Thousands and thousands of people, all sizes, ages and running ability, on foot, in strollers pushed by running moms and dads, in wheelchairs. Family, friends and spectators cheered as they began their arduous run. And the cheering and encouragement continued...