One dream of mine came true this past Saturday.
I ran a marathon. A whole, stinkin’ marathon. All 26.2 miles of it. My first one. Ever. I’ve done a few halves, but have always dreamt of doing a full. And I finally conquered that dream.
It’s a total God thing, really. Only last year I stood on the sidelines cheering two of my brothers on, as they both ran their first. I remember feeling so incredibly jealous, remembering how it felt to run the half marathons I did many years ago. Back when I was in shape. In really, really good shape.
But only a year ago, at that point in my life, I had almost given up on my dream. Three years previous my health had been absolutely decimated…I went from being a pretty active, semi-serious runner, to barely able to get out of bed, climb stairs, or do anything at all. I felt my life was over. Doctors never found out what was wrong with me. Weakness, vertigo, extreme fatigue, and a host of other strange symptoms plagued me.
But slowly…ever so slowly I began to regain my strength. It took a year before I felt myself feel a little normal, two years before I attempted to slowly get back in shape. I started with the smallest of steps. Walking—just walking—half a mile became a huge victory for me. Then it became a mile. And then more. By the time that marathon last year rolled around, I had attempted to run a bit, but was still hesitant, fearful of moving beyond a few miles.
But watching my brothers run did something to me. It motivated me to get serious with my running. Somehow, someway I had to push through. But I still thought a marathon was way out of reach for me. I remember lamenting in front of a good family friend how I didn’t think my dream of running a marathon was possible anymore. He looked at me and said, “You can do all things through Christ Who strengthens you. All things.”
My reaction, sadly, was a bit like Sarah’s when finding out she was going to have a child in her old age. I chuckled to myself, thinking, yeah, right. Oh ye of little faith! That friend, who is a wonderful godly man, kept after me, reminding me often that I could do all things through Christ. Well, only a few months later I leapt into a 10k race, my longest mileage up to that point being between 3 to 4 miles. I just decided to wing it.
Well….I ran the whole darn thing. And felt good doing it. It was a major turning point for me. I was so pumped, so excited, after that accomplishment. I had gotten my running legs back! My father also ran it, and it was quite the accomplishment for him too—just a year earlier he had had open heart surgery. So we were both excited. He encouraged me to push forward in my running, convinced this was a sign from above.
And so I did. Two months later I ran another 10k race, and even improved my time. And then it happened. Marathon training time rolled around again for my two brothers, and this time they convinced our father to train with them. They tried to convince me to do it too, but though I had gotten my running legs back, I still wasn’t quite up to a challenge that big yet. Not to mention that joining the training team would cost an arm and a leg. So I stood my ground. For a while. Until it became apparent my dad needed some moral support from someone who actually ran his pace. My brothers were faster and trained with different groups. This time I was told the cost would be covered if only I joined to run with my dad.
Not sure what I was getting myself into, I finally acquiesced. But even after joining, I still had my doubts. I just thought that, once again, I’d wing it, and see how far I got. No matter what happened, I couldn’t fault myself for trying. Plus, I told myself, I was really doing this for my dad.
Fast forward a couple months. Unfortunately, my father had to drop out, due to recurring injuries, and so there I was, the lone family representative in our training group. I missed my dad being there, and was sad he couldn’t continue, but the challenge still lay in front of me, and it was now up to me, and only me, to go on.
I couldn’t back out now. I had come too far. And much to my surprise, the task ahead didn’t look quite as daunting as it did before. The human body is an amazing thing, I’ve discovered. Within a few months I was running 10 miles or more…that progressed to a half-marathon in August….and before I knew it I had conquered 15, 16, 18, and finally 20 miles. I watched as my body grew leaner, my legs more toned and muscular, and through it all, though I put up with a lot of pain, I began to feel, overall, better and better physically. I ran through sweltering, sauna-like heat, I ran through rain, I ran in the dark, I ran in the cold…I buffeted and disciplined my body in a way I never have before. But the results?
Well, this past Saturday speaks for itself. I made my body run for over 5 hours. I made it pound the pavement for 26.2 miles. True, I nearly felt like dying the last few miles….but I made it. I accomplished my dream.
How did this happen? I keep remembering that friend, and what he told me: “You can do all things through Christ.” His words, based on Scripture, were truly prophetic. What seemed impossible for me was never impossible for Him. I owe everything to Him. He gave me the strength, He put the wings on my feet, He carried me through. He brought me from a nearly bed-ridden invalid a few years ago to a full-fledged marathon-runner today. I’m simply staggered by this.
But more than amazement at the actual marathon itself—which, in the scope of eternity, is really such a small, insignificant thing—I’m struck at the metaphor it represents in life. Knowing that my God can restore my body physically gives me the hope and the faith that He can restore the other parts of me that are broken and suffering too. I should never believe the lie that my problems are too big for Him. Life itself is like a marathon. The Christian life, specifically. Even the apostle Paul points this out, urging us to “run with endurance the race that is set before us.”
Endurance means fixing your eyes on a goal in such a way that, nothing—no matter how painful, how unpleasant, or how time-consuming—can deter you from reaching that goal. It means pressing on, even when everything looks bleak around you. It means grabbing hold of faith, and never letting go. This marathon experience has opened my eyes to the humbling fact that I have such weak faith. Thankfully, I can walk away from it with renewed, strengthened faith.
My God is a big God, and He can do big things. He’s going to bring me through my dark, dark valley, just as He brought me to the end of that marathon.
And I thank Him so much for giving back to me the gift of running. Not only does it make me feel better physically, but it often helps stabilize my mood as well. It’s like a form of therapy. Sometimes a good brisk run outside, under a blue sky, nature all around me, is just what I need to clear the foggy, crappy stuff out of my head.
Another marathon down the road? We’ll see. I’m up for it, if God allows. I’m just happy for now that, at long last, I can cross “marathon” off my to-do list. One dream down….several more to go….
