I didn’t appreciate cold weather marathons until this year’s L.A. Marathon during which the humidity was not my friend (it never is), and temperatures soared over 85 degrees – 30 degrees higher than the previous year.
Normally, 85 degrees is quite pleasant if you’re strolling along the coast, dining al fresco, or even running a 5K.
I suppose it’s all relative as Dave and I experienced earlier this month while touring Napa with friends from hot, humid Indianapolis. When your friend needs to buy an “I Love Napa” sweatshirt to keep from shivering while you have stripped down to a tank top, you know there’s a bit of a difference in perception.
This was the case for me at the start line of C.I.M. (California International Marathon) in Folsom on December 8th just a few months prior to L.A.
I knew I was in trouble when I saw a foot of snow on the roofs of several shuttle buses.
Remembering the infamous storm of C.I.M. 2012, I deluded myself into thinking I could conquer any type of marathon weather. But this day was unlike any I had weathered before. I suppose I should have been relieved that temperatures did not drop down to the teens as forecasted that week.
I will be the first to admit that I am a spoiled Northern California runner.
Sporting one thin layer of dry wick apparel and disposable gloves, I emerged from the toasty, comfortably heated shuttle bus, stepping out into the 25 degree air. The only way to describe the initial feeling is that it was like chugging down a super-size ICEE in one giant gulp. Brain freeze which felt more like brain damage immediately occurred. This is how my whole body felt walking to the race start line. It actually crossed my mind that I could die today. I know, I know – anyone reading this who grew up in the Midwest or East Coast just fell out of his chair laughing at this cold intolerant west coaster.
I looked for my pace group in the crowd of the starting corrals and quickly spotted a tall, blonde runner holding a 4:10 sign. I instantly recognized her as I was quite familiar with Lisa, the veteran C.I.M. pacer. In fact, I ran with her the year before… but only for nine miles. As fierce winds and torrential rain poured down at the 2012 start line, Lisa and her pace partner gathered for prayer. I had joined them in praying for safety, strength, and Godspeed for all runners.
Joshua 1:9 was my race verse that year: “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”
Sounded pretty good. And so, I set out to PR (personal record) from my previous PR of 4:22.
After keeping up with Lisa for nine miles, the adrenaline rush and memory of Joshua 1:9 were a distant memory as the winds and rains pounded the pavement and runners. I made the mistake of wearing way too much in anticipation of cold, wet weather. It really wasn’t that cold, and the winds sent rain in directions that even the best running apparel could not protect.
My prayers quickly degenerated from “stay strong, keep the pace” to “Jesus, tell this storm to stop” to “please let this passing car stop and pick me up” to “just get me to the finish line alive.” I never saw Lisa again that day or anything close to 4:10.
At the 2013 start line, I quickly reintroduced myself to Lisa, exchanged hugs, and asked if I could pray for her and the other runners. She was grateful for the prayers as her pace partner was absent due to illness.
As we prayed Hebrews 12:1 “…run with perseverance the race marked out for us,” I went from feeling numbingly cold to actually warm from the inside out.
I can only attribute that to the Holy Spirit – it felt like “spiritual thermal underwear!” A moment later the starting gun fired, and we were off. Having just taught a third grade science lesson on states of matter, my mind was packed with experiments and examples of what happens to liquids below 32 degrees. However, I was not anticipating actually sliding into the first water station at mile three. And even with gloves on, my fingers felt as if they would snap off like icicles. As for the third state of matter, I experienced that one every time I exhaled.
The human body is designed to acclimate fairly well as I wasn’t noticing the cold as much by mile six. In fact, by mile ten I was no longer fearful of death or lamenting my apparel choice. The remainder of the race is a blur, but I do remember feeling strong pace-wise and determined to finish as close to 4:10 as possible. Those last miles of a marathon always comes down to sheer mental endurance. I was on pace to PR and just focused on getting to that turn in the road where I could finally see the state Capitol building… then a glimpse of the actual finish line. And just like that, another marathon was in the books. PR achieved.
This year’s 2014 C.I.M. will mark my 25th marathon. Somewhere between that and my first marathon in 2009 on the streets of San Francisco and Golden Gate Bridge, a transformation occurred.
I went from being a middle-aged teacher/mom/wife just wanting to say she finished a marathon, to a child of God just wanting to hear her Father say “a race well run, Irene.” But the journey to establishing that goal has been challenging course.
After a few PRs, I allowed myself to think that maybe, just maybe, I could qualify for Boston. Boston? I didn’t even know what the Boston Marathon was six years ago. It might as well have been the Olympics. The problem with setting a goal as high as Boston is that anything short of it soon becomes failure. Whether you’re 18 minutes away (as I currently am) or 18 seconds away, it’s still failure… Or so I thought.
I had two key epiphanies this year. The first one came during a 19 mile training run. The TobyMac song “Eye On It” came on around mile 16. This was one of my third grade students’ favorites as we often talked and prayed about keeping our eyes focused on the true prize of running toward God’s calling in our lives.
Philippians 3:14 even became a class cheer as we reminded each other to “Press on!” and keep our eyes on the prize.
On any given run whether it’s training or racing, many prayers emerge. On this particular day, I made the leap from praying to simply running with God. Imagine running with your best friend – you would just talk about what was going on in your life, the highs and the lows, and you would encourage each other when you were tired and ready to call it quits. You would keep running together, and you would just be grateful for the company.
Something happened in my spirit that day as I realized I didn’t need to keep asking – and sometimes begging – God to help me finish a run.
It wasn’t that I had lost sight of what this “prize” was in Philippians 3; God showed me that I was trying to get that prize in the wrong way – MY way. As I finished this run chatting it up with my Coach, I felt an overwhelming peace that honestly felt better than any PR I had attained. I could 100% honestly say that “the prize” was spending time with Jesus Himself, not a new PR or any medal (and I do love cute medals). I had been trying to get this point across to my third graders but finally got it myself that day. Was that day’s training run my fastest or best? Maybe. But more importantly, it defined my relationship with Jesus in a new way.
The second epiphany came during the Oakland Marathon. I had the privilege of meeting my running hero, Olympic marathoner, and brother-in-Christ, Ryan Hall, at the L.A. Marathon Expo two weeks earlier. I had read his book Running with Joy a couple of times.
Ryan signed my running shirt John 10:10 “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” This verse was a game changer for me, and God illustrated it right before my eyes beginning at the Oakland Marathon starting corral.
This was the first time I had seen mini-bibs on runners with the word “FULL.” They were pinned on runners’ backs (in addition to the standard size race number on the front) indicating full marathon vs. relay. I had a “FULL” bib pinned on my back as well but thought nothing of it at first. It wasn’t until I got in the starting corral that I saw a sea of the word “FULL” before me.
Why is this significant? After reading Ryan’s book, I had asked God to help me run with the kind of full joy described in his book. I also prayed to experience this “life to the full” in all areas of my life. I realized right before the starting gun went off that I would be staring at the word “FULL” for the entire marathon.
God knows me so well.
He knows I need these not-so-subtle reminders to depend on Him and His Word to fuel me from start to finish. This was not an easy marathon (is there such a thing?). But it was certainly one of the most enjoyable! Did I PR? No, but I held a consistent pace, took in all the various sights of neighborhoods I had never ventured in despite living 30 minutes away, and appreciated spectator cheering that was more enthusiastic and inspiring than many other races I had run.
Driving home from Oakland that day, I realized that each of these marathons are not an end in itself but one leg of an incredible journey. Today’s leg was run well, run strong, and run with joy. After years of reading, praying, analyzing, and espousing the “runners’ verse” Hebrews 12:1, this marathon was finally my connection:
Running the race God has marked out for me takes place on a life-long course.
I will easily become discouraged or go off-course if I am only focusing on my own short term plans and goals. Don’t get me wrong; there is nothing wrong with short and long term planning. In fact, it is wise and prudent. But I realized somewhere between marathon one and marathon twenty that I had made PRs the end all and reason for joy.
As I reflect on my whole reason for titling this chapter “Don’t Wither,” I have to confess that it came quite painfully. Earlier this summer I had dinner with a good friend and colleague. I respect her in so many ways, one of which being her relationship with the Lord and unwavering trust in His Word. She shared that night about a recent revelation during a family vacation in Hawaii. Now, having enjoyed several trips to Maui myself, how does anyone NOT experience God-inspired revelation in this beautiful paradise? But it was during an early morning walk that the Lord revealed to my friend a single palm tree standing tall and vigorous from its foundation of black rock and nearby crashing waves.
The Holy Spirit showed her that she is like this palm tree and the tree in Psalm 1:3 “That person is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither…”
I wasn’t a fan of that verse because of the implications – being planted somewhere uncomfortable, lacking the usual support system, experiencing extreme heat or cold, seasons without fruit, and yielding.
Yielding? What is this “yielding fruit” business? It certainly doesn’t sound fun or pleasant.
As a runner, I tend to read certain Bible verses through that lens and then let it seep into other areas of my life. So, I initially took this verse to mean that I needed to train in a different way to become more fruitful next season. Speed drills and interval training crossed my mind at first.
Since I have not been very successful in warm weather marathons, this summer I intentionally picked some hotter days to try to condition myself for the next warm weather race. Equipped with water bottle, GU, and pre-planned refilling spots, I set out. All the while, I kept thinking about Psalm 1:3 and being like that tree that does not wither in the heat because it is planted by streams of water.
Jesus refers to Himself as “the living water.” Often in running, I have relied on Jesus to hydrate me and quench my thirst beyond water and GU.
I still haven’t addressed the issue I raised of “yielding fruit.” Ahhh, I have now come to a really painful part of “running God’s race”… and it has nothing to do with running. THAT is another chapter.