Running to _________

I almost passed over this shirt, having little desire to imagine a church-sponsored craft night involving fabric paint and tent-sized Hanes tees. Then for some reason or another I caught a glimpse of the other side of the shirt mid-slide down the metal closet rod:

 
What I had assumed to be a religious shirt was actually meant to inspire a pedestrian to kick up their speed! Maybe he was running a marathon and his personal goal was to keep up with his friend Jesús? Or maybe the shirt was intended to effect a Forrest-Gump moment (young Forrest breaks out of his braces with Jenny's urging) in a young Latino's life? 
I reserve the right to withhold any immigration-related quips, as I feel this post is racist enough.
It seems that I only started feeling comfortable making "off-colour" (I use the British spelling as it seems to make the compound adjective less pejorative, or maybe just classier) jokes when I married a half-Chilean and befriended black ATLians. Why is that? Have I been racist this whole time in my head and just now started voicing it? Am I laughing to avoid crying -- life is unfair and inequality runs rampant and ignoring its existence is unproductive and asinine? I suppose it's a combination of both; my grandparents (born in 1929) refer to those of African heritage as "blacks" (NOUN, not an adjective as I'm accustomed to using) and I grew up in predominantly white neighborhoods. I suppose you pick out what you're unaccustomed to... Maybe in moving to the more culturally diverse (that's the PC term, yes?) Atlanta-metro area, I'm assimilating the difference into myself in the way I've learned to process life in general: through jokes and laughter. Of course, who's to say that noticing differences makes a person racist (Hegel's discussions of the unity of differences stick with me always)? You'll pick out the white girl in a gospel choir or the pale-skinned dude playing the bass (here's to you, Mr. Pastorius). We like to categorize each other and make distinctions and when people and things stray from the patterns stamped onto our brain, we notice.
Oh, I don't know. Decide for yourself. If you must, judge me guilty. Then the decision falls to you: will you ban me from your company or be patient with my faults and help me to see the error of my ways and the errors of my [unconscious] indoctrination?
In other news, I'm not sure that I would advise someone to "run" to Jesus (Christ, that is). Not due to any religious affiliation of my own, but because it seems to me that people too often rush into things because they are what they're "supposed" to do rather than putting in the time and effort to learn about said things and make a conscious effort to pursue them. But I digress...