Family and family relationships are as vital to complete and lasting happiness as is water to an ocean.

Not too long ago I decided that on my next birthday I would run a marathon. I don’t know why; call me stupid. I just wanted to see if I could do it. Now, I had no desire to run a formally organized marathon. I wanted to do this all by myself, just to see if I could. It was then that I discovered that it was just the right distance to run from my front door to the LDS Temple, a little over 26 miles – perfect!

At 4:45 A.M. on the appointed day, all stretched out and ready to go, I left my house and started running. The first 13 miles went quite smoothly, but about mile 18 – oh, ‘I hit the wall!’ My legs felt like lead; it felt as though my feet were one big hypersensitive nerve, and that my toenails were being torn off. I seriously began to wonder if I could make it to the end.

Now, I’d only had about a month and a half to train for this marathon. But during that time I watched my children get excited about my goal. Sometimes they even went running with me. If I stopped now, how would I face them and explain failure? I couldn’t. I pushed on. I have never felt such concentrated intense pain, especially self-inflicted.

I kept promising myself as I ran that I would stop and rest when I reached this or that goal, but for some reason when I reached that goal I kept going. Around mile 25, moving slow [slowly] but still moving, my family drove past me hollering and screaming on their way to the Temple. I was so glad I was still running.

At one point, just a couple blocks shy of the Temple, I got stopped by traffic. Not even a goal’s worth getting run over. When I finally got across the street and tried to run again, I couldn’t. I – I couldn’t make my legs work; it hurt too bad [badly]!

Then, more staggering than running, I rounded the last corner and saw my family standing at the Temple’s southwest corner with a ribbon stretched across the sidewalk. At that same moment I heard my son shout, “C’mon Dad!”

It’s hard to describe how those words hit me. They went deeper into me than he’ll ever know in this life. I was overwhelmed with a feeling of love and gratitude for my family.

Suddenly this marathon became something more than a feeble man’s goal. It became something eternal; it became – a microcosm of life. I saw my wonderful little family standing on the soil of eternity, cheering me on as I struggled to endure the pain of finishing the most grueling race I had ever run, the race against myself. Sobbing and gasping for air, I crossed their little tape with not even enough strength to pull it out of their hands. Instantly, they surrounded me; hugging and congratulating me, I couldn’t even talk. The crowning moment came when they pinned a gaudy little homemade ribbon on my chest that said, “Number one Dad.”

My dear friends, the marathon of a righteous mortality will be the toughest experience we will ever face as eternal beings. A wise and knowing Father knew it would be, and thus gave us – a fan club; someone to support us and cheer us on – a family. I believe that as we strive to faithfully finish life’s race, we are loved, watched, and cheered on by family on both sides of the veil. And when our race is run and we finally cross that line, we will gratefully fall into the arms of an anxious and loving family with whom we are ‘number one.’

It occurs to me, who would ever want to go into eternity without their [his] family?

The Lord bless you.