The Humanity in Running...

What are you running for if it isn’t for yourself?  Is it for some deep seeded desire to accomplish something big;  a drive to set out to train for a day that will ruthlessly unveil what you are really made of both physically and emotionally?  Are you ready for that?  Is that all there is to it?

In the weeks prior to race day, I skipped some runs.  I didn’t want the rigorous marathon training program to interfere with vacation.  So I fell off the wagon, so to speak.  This became the tipping point for an emotional roller-coaster that would have me questioning my physical preparedness and then my emotional preparedness for race day.  The depression took hold and my runs seemed exhausting and slow.  Each run left me questioning myself yet again.  I didn’t realize the mental nosedive I had taken until I found myself crying at the drop of a hat in the few days prior to the race.  Troy missed a run and I cried.  I missed a run and I cried.  My son looked at me the wrong way and I cried.  The weather took a major turn for the worse and I cried some more.  I had become an emotional basket case.  Running had always been emotional for me, but not in this way.  I wasn’t prepared for this.

Where is the advice on mental training for race day?  There should be a note following “3 mile easy run” that says something like “Take a deep breath, find your inner happy place and imagine yourself kicking some butt on race day.”  I decided that I needed to get on that.  If I was going to have any chance at finishing this marathon, I needed to begin preparing mentally.  I felt like a college student on exam day.  Every free moment I spent praying for race day and visualizing myself at mile 1, 15, 20 and finishing.  What I seemed to be missing was the true heart of running.  And for me, it’s the pulse of humanity.  And humanity is always in the running.  30,000 heartbeats out there to achieve the same thing.  Their innermost desires for themselves worn on their bibs.  #22016 – marathon finisher! 

The humanity on race weekend is everywhere.  It’s in the line to purchase race gear when you find yourself talking with a 44 year-old runner from Tennessee who made a pact with her girlfriends to finish a marathon before the age of 45.  It’s in the hotel elevator as you wish complete strangers good luck.  It’s in the face of friends, both new and old, as you break bread and chat about families, the weather, the race, and of course, running.  It’s in those little shared experiences that I find my love for running. 

I feel blessed to have been given the opportunity to share this race weekend with this wonderful crew.  The strong, the God-fearing, the elite!  One of them told me “you learn a lot from people when you start training with them.”  I think that’s true.  As we milled about waiting to line up at the start, we chatted, we laughed and we prayed.  Humanity and the spirit are never stronger when you circle up, hold hands and begin praying in the middle of thousands of people.  Our races were yet to be determined, but God knew the outcome, and He would be there through it all.

We casually made our way to the start and decided to line up in the corral for a 4:10 estimated finish.  Our goal was 4:30, but we wanted to make sure we didn’t get stuck in the traffic jam that is sure to happen as over 30,000 runners begin their race.  So we lined up with the slightly faster crew hoping that we would actually begin close to our desired race pace.  Our goal was to set a personal record, but we also wanted to have some fun and enjoy ourselves.  Our first marathon was merely survival; we were determined to make this one different.  We wanted to “stop and smell the roses.”  The gun went off and a man behind us commented “and there they are…off like a pack of turtles.”  That just about sums up the build-up to a marathon start.  You don’t just take off running.  You kind of shuffle forward for a few minutes, then speed up to a fast walk and eventually you begin running.  You spend the next 3-5 miles dodging people and trying to find your pace amongst these thousands and thousands of runners.

At mile 5, I recall the beautiful trees lining the road and the leaves fluttering to the ground all around us.  I took a mental picture and commented to Troy “isn’t this just beautiful?”  We recalled how mile 5 of Big Sur found us starting into the major headwinds that would last a good 17 miles.  We couldn’t even lift our heads much less comment on the sights.  This was a good start.  We were enjoying ourselves.  My sappy self decided to  tap Troy on the shoulder and say “I love you!”  “What for?” Troy replied.  Because running makes me sappy and I really, really love you.

At mile 7, the 4:10 pacer group started to pass us.  There were marines in the group leading a running cadence.  The strength and depth of their voices pushed us forward, lifted our spirits and quickened our pace.  “Oorah!”

At mile 14, I decided it had been a little too long since the last time I said “I love you” to my husband.  As I said just that, a runner next to me aptly replied “Awww, I love you, too!  You guys are the best!”  See what I mean.  Humanity is everywhere.

It was about this time that Troy and I realized we were still feeling pretty good and that 4:30 finishing time was well within reach.  We agreed to hold our current pace until mile 20 and then give it all we’ve got.  As mile 15, 16 and 17 clicked by, we continued to check in with each other.  Yep!  We were still feeling good and we would still pull out the big guns at mile 20. 

At mile 18, the 4:30 pacer passed us.  It was a little early to pick up the pace, but we didn’t want to be passed by this group.  We increased our running cadence and began catching up with the 4:30s.  Our joints were sore and our muscles were nagging, but it wasn’t anything we couldn’t deal with.  We just pushed it to the back and concentrated on the finish.  At mile 20, we picked up the pace even more.  The miles continued to click by.  We passed runner after runner, feeling exhilarated and on top of the world.  This was how I always dreamed my marathon running experience would be.  At mile 23, we began to feel the exhaustion even more.  But with only a 5k distance left, we buckled down and kept on trucking.

By mile 26, we were running as fast as our tired legs could move.  This would end up being our fastest mile yet.  We crossed the finish line hand-in-hand, feeling the elation that comes with being able to walk again after 26.2 miles of running.  We checked our watches and discovered to our amazement that we had actually broken the 4:30 mark.  We finished at 4:29:18!  And enjoyed it! 

Our runs won’t always be perfect!  Some runs will be amazing in that jump up and down kind of way and some runs will be terrible in that feeling utterly torn down kind of way. Regardless, God has a way of revealing ourselves to ourselves through our running.