There are a lot of great accomplishments that happened in my twenties, but none am I more proud of than the fact that I ran a marathon. (I’ve actually run two, but my second one was not nearly as impactful).
It all started the year after I graduated college. A year in which I had no intention of running a marathon. Heck at that time I had no intention of EVER running a marathon. I’m not a “runner” per say. I have short legs, I’m not thin, and I had never run more than 4 miles at one time in my life.
What I am; however, is competitive.
It was the spring of 2009 and my roommate at the time, Jenna, was training for a half marathon. We worked out at the same gym and encouraged each other in our physical activities in general, but when she started training for her half it really kicked things into gear. Jenna came home from a long run and told me she just ran 5 miles and I thought “I can do that.” And I did. Then she came home and had run 6 miles and I thought, “I can do that too.” And I did. Finally, Jenna just came straight out and told me I should run the half with her and I did!
Sometimes I hear people say after doing their first half that they would never run a full marathon, but I finished and thought “I want to do a whole” and I did! (you may begin to see a trend here).
The full marathon; however, wasn’t quite as easy…
I started off my training with two friends, but early on in the summer they fell out for various reasons. So I was left training alone. Training to run 26.2 miles for 18 weeks by myself was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It was also one of the most rewarding.
What a summer that was. I could go on and on about how I grew and what I learned about my body and my mind (bottom line both are AMAZING), but one moment has stuck with me in the many years since.
It was my second longest run-19 miles. I was running loops around the neighborhood where I lived. I was at about the 17 mile mark. I was SO tired and then it happened…I tripped. When you trip and fall full out after running 17 miles it hurts. It shocks your body, it breaks your rhythm and focus, it scares you because if you get hurt this late in your training who knows if you can run the marathon. I remember feeling like electricity was rippling through my entire body as I skidded across the pavement. I thought I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. What I did do was get back up and start putting one foot in front of the other for another two miles. I remember audibly saying to myself alone on the street “I just wish this was over, ” but it wasn’t over so I kept going one foot at a time my mind forcing my body to do what I needed to do to reach my goal.
I did that same practice for 18 weeks (sans the dramatic fall). That’s what training is: pushing yourself to go beyond your limits so that your limits are extended. That moment showed me just how powerful my mind and will are. It showed me I don’t need anyone beside me pushing me to go on. I can do that! I’m a beast!
This is not to negate reliance on Christ, rather this experience highlighted to me the amazing capabilities God has given us as His creation. The power that our minds hold when it seems we can’t go on. In the years since when things seem hard I have often thought “if I can run a marathon, I can do this.” And it seems to be true. The confidence and determination that I have because of those grueling 18 weeks is an intricate part of who I am and how I live. So a big thank you to Jenna for pushing me to run those first 13.1 miles! Here’s to many more runs, falls, and “getting back up agains!” (both literally and figuratively)
Run with abandon my friends…
Jenna and I after I ran the Chicago marathon in 2009.
Moments, Memories, Musings 