My facebook has been all lit up with a bunch of folks running long distances this weekend. I can't believe it was only 2 years ago I was off to VA beach to run my first half marathon (yes, I intend to do at least one more). I just wanted to finish and have a decent experience. Little did I know what God had in store!! That race marked a new turn in a wonderfully bizarre spiritual journey that has yet to play out. I am just getting back into running after surgery and recovery - so while I'll not be on the road in person this year, I'll be there in spirit. Below is my experience from my race 2 years ago, plus one of my favorite inspirational running songs.
The Race
So many of you asked about how the race went – and it was so awesome there is no one word answer! So, here is a bit of my 13.1 mile experience:
Early Start: I woke at 1:45am and never got back to sleep. Nervous, me??? Yikes! Good thing I napped Saturday. I got all the last minute race essentials in place and brewed the in-hotel room coffee (but only 1 cup – not good to OD on coffee unless you want to visit the port-o-john mid race!).
Headed out: I left the hotel about 5:30am in the dark to walk the mile or so to the race check in. Yikes it was WINDY – like 20+ mph. My shamrock headband flew off my head and was promptly stashed in my bag till race start.
Ready to race: The American Cancer Society DNation team had their own tent to collect our bags with “dry gear” (anything you don’t want to carry in your hands during the race, then they bring it to the finish line for you to get afterwards). We took a group picture and headed to the race start!
RUN: The first 3 miles were pretty easy – I went out fast but not too fast. Got in a good groove, sun was finally up, wind was dying down, everyone was happy. Frankly, running folks are just so darn nice. It was early (7am race start) so not so many spectators, but there were some – including folks handing out beer to runners as they passed by (I did not partake at this point…made me ill to think about it actually).
By Mile 4, I was on a total runner’s high – I totally rocked miles 4-8. The play list was just right, there were bands on the sidelines to keep us going. I ran negative splits for 5 miles – this means that I got faster with every additional mile. This was “God moment” #1. I NEVER run negative splits. NEVER. By the end of Mile 8, I was running an 11 ½ minute mile pace – this is slow for many, but is practically a sprint in my world. I was on pace to finish in under 2 ½ hours AND beat the time challenge from one of the survivors I was running for. I was motivated for many miles at the thought of calling him up and telling him “I did it!”.
Mile 9 – At this point we were back into the wind by the coastline. I started to slow down, but was still doing pretty well. I had made a bib to wear on the back of my shirt called “Survivors and Saints” – with all the initials of the many folks I was running for. I got a lot of comments from the people passing me on my shirt (yes, a lot of people passed me but I guess its OK since they saw the shirt!). I thought a lot about how lucky I was to even be in that race. I thought a lot about how just 2 years ago I never would have thought it was possible.
Mile 10 – Started to feel it in the knees. God moment #2 – “Run” by After the Chase came up on the play list – it is based on Isaiah 40:31. I think I played it on repeat for the entire duration of Mile 10. Truly, the only way my feet kept moving was God watching over me and putting little wings on my feet. But I was slowing down.
Mile 11 – God moment #3 – and this is what did me in as far as meeting any time goal. I got another comment on my shirt. I grunted in appreciation. Then I got asked a question if I had cancer. SO, I grunt no as answer to her question. [For the record, I DO NOT talk when I run. I am the most unsocial runner ever. Really, I can’t run and talk at the same time. I talk too fast that it uses all my air for running!]. Then she starts to pass me and I hear her say she has cancer and then I see the bulge of her PICC line (the permanent IV line where you receive chemo usually). My heart stops. My feet barely manage a shuffle at this point as I am overwhelmed with emotion remembering exactly what that PICC line means – even the grind of flushing the line, and cleaning to prevent infection. So much hope lies in that plastic tubing and I was SO thankful not to be a part of that world any more. Trying desperately to compose myself so I can keep running, we run side by side for the briefest bit. We chat as easily as one can when we each have music blaring in our ears. She has lymphoma. I tell her my husband was sick, she asks what kind. She thought he was still sick – I felt an insane amount of guilt when I said he was 2 years cancer free. I never did get her name. She said “thanks for caring.” Then I slowed down more and she pull away.
She changed the entire perspective of that race for me. I pretty much walked the rest of the race trying not to cry like a baby the entire time. I saw all the folks who passed me and just took it all in. It was one of those rare moments when God is so present and you actually realize it WHILE it’s happening and not just after it’s all over. I crossed the finish line physically exhausted (this was expected), emotionally drained (much more so than I thought I’d be), and spiritually fulfilled (more than I ever thought possible).
