Blood pumping, knees aching, and face smiling I picked up the pace, raced down the hill, and crossed the finish line.  I couldn’t believe it!  As the medal was hung around my neck, I hobbled forward in disbelief.  I just finished my first marathon, and I finished 7 minutes faster than my goal time!  Was it the fastest time ever?  No.  Did it hurt?  You bet!  But, holy cow, it was an amazing race, and I finished!

My training leading up to race day isn’t anything worth mentioning mostly because it was almost non-existent!  With a busy schedule loaded with classes and work, it was hard finding the time to fit in the appropriate number of long runs.  To put it simply, I wouldn’t recommend making a 15 mile run your longest training distance, especially if you don’t want to die come race day.  Let’s just say I doubt my knees will ever forgive me.  But even with the lack of training, I was optimistic going into the race and set a goal to finish before the 5 hour mark.

Trust me….we’re crying on the inside.

Sunday came, my brothers and I woke up at a horrific hour several hours before the sun, and we set off for the start line.  The start of the race was great!  My strategy was to run the first half 30 seconds slower than my average pace in order to conserve energy, and I planned to fuel early and often.  I am confident that if I hadn’t stuck with these strategies, I would have been in a lot more pain a lot sooner.  I also decided not to pay attention to the mile markers or use my gps to record my distance.  This may not be the smartest strategy as a runner, but I knew the mental battles would be my greatest obstacle.  So I decided not to focus on the distance and instead to just focus on running.  I stayed purposeful with my pace because I knew I had a long way to go, but I didn’t think about what mile I was on.  I kept my mind on other things and putting one foot in front of the other.

The things I thought about to keep my mind busy were interesting to say the least.  I spent a good amount of time thinking about all the studying I had to do once I was finished.  I then thought about all the sports I could be playing instead of running, sports like soccer, golf, tennis, football, frisbee, rowing (I’ve never rowed in my life), etc.  By mile ten my mind was on the food I planned on eating afterwards.  Half way through the race; however, my thoughts wandered to what was probably my favorite mind distraction: math and science.  (Yes, I am fully aware of just how nerdy and weird that is…did I mention I’m a biology and math major?)  

Throughout the race I was constantly calculating my average pace from the timer I had started on my watch.  (Watches that tell you your pace directly steal all the joy of figuring it out yourself!)  But it got more fun!  I started with partial fraction decompositions.  I had a quiz on it due the following Tuesday, so I went through the problems I could remember from the quiz.  From there I couldn’t help but wonder just how many sarcomeres were being activated in my muscles. But then I had an incredible thought! How cool would it be if I graphed the change in my pace throughout the race, found a function to represent that curve, integrated it from time 0 to my finish time, and found the area under the curve of my pace!  If I did it all correctly the area should be equal to 26.2 miles! Cool, right!?!  I may or may not have gotten a well needed adrenaline rush from that thought, and I kept running through the miles.

But even with my best efforts to keep my mind occupied, by mile 20 I hit the ever dreaded wall.  At that point I was listening to music in an attempt to distract from the pain, but my legs were screaming.  The tempting thoughts to stop and walk became louder and louder with each step, and meeting my 5 hour goal started to look doubtful.  I was afraid to stop because I wasn’t sure if I would be able to start again.  I was also afraid to keep running because I feared my legs would give out.  My hope and drive started to falter.  And then the song in my ear changed.  But it wasn’t singing that resonated on my eardrums.  It was a speech that reminded me why I shouldn’t stop; why I couldn’t stop; why I wouldn’t stop.

Looking back over this last year my life has changed in ways I never thought were possible.  I’ve discovered my passion in an area I never expected to find it.  As a result, not only have my college plans changed, but my life plans that were once set and clear are now shrouded in the fog of uncertainty.  I’ve taken a leap of faith toward something I feel totally unprepared for.  Kind of like how I started a marathon very under trained.  The road ahead of me is long and hard, and I fear the difficulties I might face, the difficulties that could break me.  I fear the possibility of failure.  I fear not being strong enough.  But that’s just it.  I’m not strong enough.  This new road, this new life purpose, wasn’t my idea.  It was God’s, which is why I’m not strong enough.  I’m unprepared.  Under trained.

If it were all my idea, then what would I need God for?  Everything that has led me to this point has been nothing short of the hand of God, so everything that gets me through this season of life must come from Him.  Am I scared?  You bet!  Who knows what mountains I’ll have to climb?!  I anticipate moments of pain and struggle where the temptation to stop and give in will be consuming.  That scares me!  But my determination to finish well overshadows my fear.  The thought of making it to the end and not stumbling but strongly crossing the finish line drives me forward with confidence into the fog of uncertainty.  Why?  Because in the end none of this is about me.  Because where I end and where my strength ceases is where He begins.  Because He must become greater, and I must become less.  The speech playing through my headphones reminded me of that.

So I kept running.  The pain didn’t stop.  In fact, it got worse.  But I took another step forward.  Then I did it again.  And again.  And again.  It hurt.  I still wanted to stop.  My knees ached and my shins screamed, but I wasn’t just going to finish.  I was going to finish well.  It wasn’t about the medal, the time, or becoming a marathoner.  It was proving to myself that no matter the cost, the pain, or the circumstances nothing was going to stop me from accomplishing what He had called me to do.

This is the moment I saw the clock!

I kept running through the pain until I heard it, the welcoming bustle of the finish line.  Then I saw it.  The clock.  I was going to beat my 5 hour goal!  I didn’t think I was going to be able to do it, and in all honesty neither did my family! They expected a 6 hour time. Then the excitement masked the pain, I took off, and crossed the finish line.  Under trained, covered in sweat, and out of breath I didn’t just finish and become a marathoner, I finished well and became more determined to do the same in life.

It was a great race!  I learned more about myself than I had expected to, and I enjoyed every second of it!  I also thoroughly enjoyed the milkshake and cheeseburger I had afterwards to celebrate!

Moral of the story: Never stop seeking God. And never stop moving forward!