I confess I did not know what “Semper Fi” meant going into last Sunday’s race.
I knew it had to do with the Marine Corps branch of the military but never actually knew its Latin translation or how it became their motto. Seeing these words on much of the race merchandise at the Expo should’ve at least prompted me to Google its meaning since I wasn’t about to spend good money on a shirt without knowing what it meant. But I didn’t pursue it and didn’t ask any of the hundreds of Marines volunteering at the Expo. I bought the shirt anyway; it was a pretty color and came in my size.
Many expectations accompany an event that calls itself “The People’s Marathon.” I had no idea what I was in for when I entered the lottery registration seven months prior. After receiving a confirmation email saying “Congratulations MCM Class of 2014,” I started to get the feeling this would be a marathon unlike the twenty-three I had already run. First off, I would be flying to Washington, D.C. The furthest I had ever traveled for a race was Indiana. My family knows that I don’t travel well. Our 2012 China trip proved that I don’t ever need to venture off this continent again. Let’s face it, I don’t like long flights (who does?), I’m a raging germaphobe (how did I ever teach kindergarten?), and I just like the comforts of my own home (who doesn’t?).
But as race day approached and my flight and hotel were booked, I got more and more excited to run with the Marines in our nation’s capital. Every time I saw a countdown post from MCM’s official Facebook page, I felt a few more butterflies in my stomach.
Eventually these butterflies transformed themselves into a squadron of fighter jets as the “24 Hours and Counting” post emerged.
Sure, I had the customary marathon eve jitters but they were exacerbated by being 2,500 miles from home and not completely sure if the Metro would really get 30,000 runners to the start line on time. There was something rather comforting in striking up conversations with runners from places like Nnnooorth Caaarrruliiina who assured me with the sweetness of their accents that leaving the hotel at 6 am would be juuust fiiiiiine. I should always talk to myself with a Southern accent to keep my nerves in check before a race. Or maybe just when I’m ordering lunch. I’m pretty sure my nervous indecision resulted in my taking thirty minutes to order that day…poor waiter was probably thinking “Lady, just get the turkey sandwich already!”
Sometimes I think God must always be shaking His Almighty head when He watches me go about my pre-race business. It took me over a year to figure out what “smh” means in text language (neither of my teenage daughters bothered to get me up to speed this whole time). But God reassured me on race morning that He wasn’t doing the “shake my head” when it came to my Metro concerns.
I rode the elevator down to the hotel lobby with several runners, two of which in bright breast–cancer-pink race shirts. We started making nervous small talk. They were also concerned about the timeliness of taking the Metro to the start line and opted for a taxi despite road closure warnings. They offered to share their taxi even though I didn’t have my wallet or any money since all I had brought was a pre-paid Metro card. I got in the cab with them and prayed it wasn’t a horrible decision.
Turns out it was a pretty good decision as the off-ramp to the Pentagon was still open, and we were able to be dropped off even closer to the Runner’s Village than had we taken the Metro.
It was a five minute cab ride which put us almost two hours early for the race start.
My two new cab friends, Megan and Tracie, and I found a spot in one of the large pre-race tents and sat down to do some stretches and keep warm. Megan and Tracie were visiting from Syracuse, New York with their families. Megan had been up all night with her eight year old daughter sick from food poisoning. The day before was spent in the ER since her five year old son hit his face on the hotel room night stand and knocked out his two front teeth. (And my biggest concern the day before was ordering lunch…smh.) Megan and Tracie along with their husbands were best friends.
Besides being running partners with the same 3:50 marathon goal, Megan and Tracie were also air force reservists.
We walked to the start area together then parted ways as we positioned ourselves in our estimated finish time corrals. I was thankful for not only their cab ride, but their camaraderie. Speaking of camaraderie, there was a certain “buzz” or electricity in the air at that point. Runners somehow knew something special was about to take place. As the race announcer directed our attention to the sky, we saw that the buzz was not just the excitement in the air but several planes with skydivers about to deliver a 7,800 square foot U.S. flag from the air to the start line.
The flag bearer was Medal of Honor recipient Kyle Carpenter who had suffered severe injuries after diving on a grenade to save the life of a fellow Marine in Afghanistan four years ago. After landing, he would have ten minutes before the official race start. Carpenter, who ran MCM in 2012 with a finish time of 4:28.42, was running this year to encourage other severely-injured service men and women:
“You can get injured and go through a lot and still come out on top. You can run a marathon or compete in things you want to, even if you have physical limitations or disabilities. If there’s a will, there’s a way.”
And then, the singing of the National Anthem. I’ve definitely heard and seen this pre-event tradition done with much more “entertainment value,” but on this morning standing alongside men and women dressed in camo with Arlington National Cemetery, the Pentagon, and the Marine Corps Memorial close by, I couldn’t help but get teary-eyed.
At last, the starting howitzer went off! And my journey of 2,500 miles from California was about to be extended 26.2 more miles. My race strategy: stay ahead of the 4:15 pacer and draw inspiration from just being in our nation’s capital. Oh, and possibly give myself the best birthday present ever – a new P.R.!
Yeah, it doesn’t get much better than running the Marine Corps Marathon on your actual birthday!
Truthfully, though, my birthday was the furthest thing from my mind. As I got into a good pace being careful to not go out too fast like I often have, I thought about my mission for this race. I had just bought a visor at the race Expo that said “MISSION READY 2014.” I broke my own rule of not wearing race merchandise until after I complete the race because I liked what these words meant as they reinforced a conviction God had placed on my heart recently.
Two weeks before MCM, I ran the annual “Run for Education,” a local half marathon. It was during this race that the Lord helped me see some of the things I was missing by only focusing on P.R.s and my own goals. God opened my eyes and heart to what was on His as I ran past several local schools. He prompted me to pray for these schools, staff, and families. Just before this race, I had read a comment on the Marine Corps Marathon Facebook page that was from a senior pastor in Michigan who was committing to pray for our nation as he ran the entire 26.2 miles. I was touched and inspired to do so as well. And thus, the mission:
“If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.” 2 Chronicles 7:14
As I ran, the obvious hit me like a ton of bricks – everything in DC is a memorial. Whether it’s a bridge, a statue, a building, a river, a road, a museum or a monument, everything here harkens back to an individual or event that altered the course of history forever.
Running along the Potomac, past the Kennedy Center, under Theodore Roosevelt Bridge, past the Jefferson, FDR, Lincoln, MLK, Korean and WWII Memorials – just to name a few – how could I forget what this country was built upon?
As I crossed historic bridges, a question crossed my mind “Why is it so important to remember?” It seems to me that it goes beyond public recognition, celebrating victories, and even honoring sacrifices. It has everything to do with making sure future generations uphold the values for which men and women fought and died. It’s all about preserving truth. Perhaps God knew we might have a little trouble remembering.
Moses said, “This is what the Lord has commanded: ‘Take an omer [two quart jar] of manna and keep it for the generations to come, so they can see the bread I gave you to eat in the wilderness when I brought you out of Egypt.’” Exodus 16:32
And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.” Luke 22:19
Some days I can’t remember what I had for breakfast that morning. Yet I remember the day I first met my husband twenty-eight years ago and even the shirt he was wearing. During those first few miles of the marathon, I diligently prayed for other runners, military and their families, and thanked Jesus for the sacrifices of lives each time I passed a memorial.
But it didn’t take long for me to forget the mission and focus on my own concerns.
The weather was a little warmer than anticipated; once again, warm weather races and I are not friends. Do I drink more at the next aid station? Do I save my extra-caffeinated gels for later? Is the 4:15 pacer still behind me? Did I close the garage door when I left the house? Okay, okay, back to the mission…
Running past the Capitol, I prayed for our elected officials. Not political parties or agendas. Just wisdom from the Lord.
As I caught my first glimpse of the Washington Monument around Mile 17, I realized that you can see this massive structure from pretty much anywhere in the city except when it’s right in front of you. I saw it flying in to Reagan Airport from 10,000 feet but couldn’t see it in its entirety when it was one street away. Can I be honest here? It’s not that impressive without the backdrop of the surrounding city and monuments.
But that causes me to reflect on how God always gets to see the big picture and perpetually has the best view in the house of my life and my current situation.
And what was my current situation? Up until then, I had kept to my race strategy and ran an almost perfect 20 miles (in my mind at least). I was starting to lose steam and my pace was falling behind. And then it happened. The 4:15 pacer passed me. I was replaying when the 4:10 pacer passed me at Mile 24 in the Mountains2Beach Marathon earlier this year; I felt like I had failed at that moment. In retrospect, I really think I was mentally done but still could’ve physically kept up. That was a moment I regret.
This time it was the opposite. As Joe (I had met him at the race Expo the day before), passed me on the 14th Street Bridge, I knew I didn’t have it in me physically to keep up. But this time, I was okay with that. I had done what I came to do that day. Sure, it wasn’t going to be a birthday P.R. Somehow, I knew I was about to receive an even better birthday present. I managed to keep a decent, slower pace until Mile 26, and then I saw the finish line…up THE hill. You can curse the metric system, or Mt. Vesuvius for that last 0.2; either way it’s that point when you dig deep for a strong finish that makes the last 26 miles seem like a distant memory.
It seems cruel to end any race on an uphill climb; but at the Marine Corps Marathon, it is appropriate.
I dug deep and sprinted my fastest to the finish line. A few steps later, dozens of Marines were lined up to high-five runners. When I think about a Marine high-fiving ME, I am humbled.
What exactly did I do that is worthy of thousands of Marines getting to the start line at “oh-three-hundred-hours,” setting up the course, handing me water the whole morning, manning security points, distributing post-race food and jackets, and THE BEST PART…placing my finisher’s medal around my neck? The Marine who gave me my medal said “Okay, ready for your moment? Take a deep breath…” Then he shook my hand and said “Congratulations!” And he probably did this hundreds more times after me that morning.
Semper Fi…Always Faithful.
As I made my way past the finish line area, I turned a corner, looked up and saw the most amazing sight atop the hill I had just sprinted. It was the Marine Corps War Memorial aka Iwo Jima Memorial. Not only is this statue humongous at 32 feet high not including the 60-foot bronze flagpole (78 feet in its entirety), but it is one of the most telling and recognizable memorials. It literally stopped me in my tracks and took my breath away. The flag flies 24 hours a day, 365 days of the year by presidential proclamation.
It was at 10:30 am on the morning of February 23rd, 1945 that Marines of Company E, 2nd Battalion reached the top of Mount Suribachi – “a tortuous climb up rough terrain.” (It is a volcano after all.) It was then that Marines stationed all around the tiny island of Iwo Jima saw the American flag flying. Later that same day when it was deemed safe from enemies, five Marines and a Navy corpsman raised a larger flag atop this mountain.
Semper Fi…Always Faithful.
The finish line festivities displayed big banners saying “Mission Accomplished.” Marines handed out space blankets and jackets that also said “Mission Accomplished.”
I was giddy with relief, happiness, endorphins, and amazement as I worked my way through the crowd trying to find Dave who had been waiting longer than anticipated since the Marines were doing an exceptional job of keeping runners safe behind miles of temporary fences surrounding Arlington National Cemetery and the Marine Corps War Memorial. It is a tribute to the Marines that they kept control of over 30,000 runners and countless spectators in such a safe, organized manner. From the Expo to the start line to the finish, the Marines I encountered were nothing short of encouraging, well-mannered, true-to-form individuals.
They made me feel safe and proud to be part of this event…and country. Now I understand why it is called “The People’s Marathon.” Mission Accomplished, Marines!
Semper Fi…Always Faithful.
As for my own mission, I thought I was done when I crossed that finish line Sunday morning. And now to simply be a tourist…or so I thought. I was looking forward to taking one of those open-air Big Bus tours and taking dorky tourists photos – you know, the ones where you look like your holding up the Washington Monument with one hand. And how could I resist that Forrest Gump moment from the Lincoln Memorial? Being the super-dorky tourist that I am, of course I took my requisite amount of photos…and then some.
But it wasn’t until two days later and a visit to Arlington National Cemetery that I realized this mission was not over. Besides being one of the most beautifully kept grounds I have ever walked, the autumn colors were at their prime and the weather was perfect.
In retrospect, I could’ve spent the whole day at Arlington, but we had planned to also get in a few of the Smithsonian Museums in the afternoon. On our list of must-sees was the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and Changing of the Guard.
This ceremony of tradition and honor takes place on the hour every hour (every half hour spring and summer) 24/7 and 365 days of the year. All cameras were fixed on the guard as he took his 21 steps in front of the tomb, stopped for 21 seconds, turned and repeated this process for his hour-long watch.
Why 21? It is symbolic of the highest military honor, the 21-gun salute.
A relief commander announced the Changing of the Guard and requested all spectators stand and remain silent during the ceremony. Then the commander conducted a thorough inspection of each part of the relieving guard’s rifle. All three salute the tomb then the new guard begins his watch at an exact cadence of 90 steps per minute.
While this entire ceremony was one of the video highlights of our trip, I realized after researching its history that this was not for show at all. These elite soldiers are from the Army’s 3rd Infantry Regiment aka “The Old Guard” and have guarded the Tomb since 1948. The only time these soldiers have disobeyed a commanding officer’s direct orders was during a fierce storm when they were told to take shelter. They did not and continued to guard the Tomb.
Words cannot express how touched I am with this commitment to honoring fallen soldiers.
Semper Fi…Always Faithful.
The next day as I got back on a commercial plane and flew back to the comfort of my suburban home, I looked down from 10,000 feet in the sky and saw the National Mall and its surroundings.
I felt like somehow this trip had forever changed me.
Maybe it was being at the Smithsonian and seeing the actual flag that inspired Francis Scott Key to compose the song that I sing before every Cal game. Maybe it was being inches away from the Wright Brothers original 1903 flyer juxtaposed with fighter jets and drones. Maybe it was walking into the National Cathedral during the evening choir rehearsal and thinking this is what Heaven must sound like. Maybe it was reading the quotes etched in marble and granite at the Lincoln, WWII, JFK, and Marine Corps War Memorials. Maybe it was a glimpse of some of the 400,000 grave markers at Arlington dating as far back as the Civil War.
Maybe it is the realization that some of the same Marines who handed me water along the marathon course will put themselves in harm’s way for my freedom.
When I try to put my finger on exactly why this whole experience was so extraordinary, I think it comes down to feeling a deep connection between the faithfulness of the men and women who have shaped our nation and the faithfulness of God Almighty in continuing to bless this land I call home.
I bought a t-shirt that says “Mission Accomplished.” Sure, the marathon part is done. But I can’t help but feel a renewed sense of duty to support our country and future generations by being more intentional and vigilant in praying for our leaders, military, schools, families, financial stewardship, and spiritual health.
Do I consider myself active duty or a reservist when it comes to prayer for this nation?
How committed am I? What will our country look like to Natalie and Meagan or to their children when I am long gone? Will my prayers really make any difference? I suppose that is where I need to have faith. I hope that when I cross that final finish line, it can be said of me “Mission Accomplished” and…
Semper Fi…Always Faithful.