“The Ultimate Carbo-Load”

October 10, 2014 itang5@icloud.com Leave a comment

I love and hate going to Costco. I love the thought of stocking up on all our favorites in mass quantity. Endless packs of mac-n-cheese, the variety assortment of pasta in cute shapes, gigantic boxes of cereal, mix and match bagels with a vat of cream cheese, a year supply of Cup O’Noodle, and my newest fave – big bags of Naan bread!

It doesn’t seem to matter what season of the year or mood I’m in; I come home with loads of every imaginable carb product…every time. My justification? Carbo-loading for all training runs and races! Why carbs? In a nutshell, the right carbs translate to much needed stored energy in a 26.2 mile race. But I’m fairly certain even the world’s top elite marathoners don’t fill their shopping carts the way I do.

It’s become an obsession. I’ve taken carbo-load to a new level.

Once I’m home from Costco, it’s time to put my amazing Tetris skills to good use as I try to cram all my precious (said in Gollum voice) carbs in cabinets and closets. This is when my love turns to hate. How do they expect me to fit all these huge boxes and bags in two little kitchen cabinets and a freezer still full from the last Costco excursion? I can’t wait to start eating all the food I bought just so I have more space.

But really, what’s not to love about a gigantic box of cereal you crave? It’s not so lovely when you’ve had it for breakfast and possibly lunch five days in a row not to mention it’s already getting stale since no one else in our family uses those genius bag clips I bought to “seal in the freshness.” It doesn’t take long for this cereal that I craved and HAD to buy in mass quantity to become an object of disdain.

Soon this big, beautiful box gets relegated to the back of the cupboard…joining the ranks of other demoted carbs like the five gallon tub of pretzel bites purchased two years ago.

It’s really just carbs that are the issue because they seem to sit innocently on the shelf without changing appearance (hmmm, can you say preservatives?) unlike fruit, vegetables, meat, or dairy in the fridge after a few days. I have been known to concoct creative cuisine from food that is about to expire since I hate to see anything go to waste. How else does one come up with salmon spaghetti or tofu loaf?

So, why is it that after all these years, I haven’t learned my lesson despite a cupboard full of stale carbs staring me in the face every day?

Some lessons take years for me to learn; but so far, none have taken forty years.

When I think about how my enthusiasm for something can so quickly result in boredom, complaints, whining, and disdain, I can’t help but remember the Israelites in the Old Testament as they wandered for forty years on a trip that should have taken only eleven days. It didn’t take long after Moses led them out of Egyptian tyranny – quite miraculously – to forget who delivered them and why.

As the reality of desert living with a million of your closest friends began to hit them, the people began to complain and criticize God’s provision.

Never mind that God provided daily deliveries of quail and manna right to their doorsteps (tent openings) better than any pizza delivery chain. I love the simple narration in Exodus 16 of the Israelites’ initial reaction to seeing this manna:

‘They said to each other, “What is it?” For they did not know what it was.’

I think this is why Costco gives out food samples. I also love that God’s Costco-sized delivery of manna came with specific instructions:

‘Moses said to them, “It is the bread the Lord has given you to eat. This is what the Lord has commanded: ‘Everyone is to gather as much as they need. Take an omer (anywhere from a cup to a gallon) for each person you have in your tent.’” Then Moses said to them, “No one is to keep any of it until morning.”’

Now you know when you tell kids, especially the human kind, NOT do something that you’ve inadvertently stirred up an inner challenge to do that very thing. Of course, some of the Israelites didn’t see the harm in saving some of the daily manna – or, perhaps, didn’t fully trust that God would provide the next day…or the next. That left over manna, once glistening in the morning sun and sweet as honey, overnight became a stinky mess of worms.

Now I don’t feel as bad for the little bit of mold on my week-old bagels.

It never fails that when I read about the Israelites’ disobedience, rebellion, and wanderings I say to myself, “What were they thinking?” As if somehow, if I was in their sandals, this would’ve never happened. As if I’ve never questioned God’s provision. As if I’ve never doubted His timing. As if I’ve never complained about my circumstances. As if I’ve never felt like I deserved better. As if I’ve never disobeyed.

As if I’ve never forgotten God’s deliverance.

When Natalie and Meagan were in elementary school, the church music department put on a production called “Trading Places” – a light-hearted musical contrasting life in a Hebrew home and an Egyptian palace as modern day kids walked through the life and times of Moses. Natalie had the role of roving reporter Page Turner. Meagan sang in the choir delivering profound messages with humorous lyrics like the “Manna Mix” commercial jingle: “Manna Mix is momma’s pick…Don’t keep it after hours, your manna will go sour. Manna Muffins, Manna Splits, it’s what we crave and eat all daaaaaaay… Almighty Manna Mix! Hasta Manana!” My favorite part of the musical was the cast kids whining about manna every day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner: “Manna, manna, manna!” I still laugh picturing this scene.

But it turns out God takes whining pretty seriously.

As I reflect on the times I’ve elevated whining to a new art form, some of these were times of abundance and prosperity. When things were going well, I spent free time and money on the extraneous. I found myself getting bored with the same old, same old. I hyper-focused on the unnecessary. Having been married to a self-employed small business owner for over twenty-six years, we have certainly experienced financial highs and lows. Like the Israelites, we learned many lessons the hard way. Like the Israelites, my singing to the Lord often turned to complaining. Like the Israelites, my faith in God’s plan could go sour faster than manna left over night.

And like the Israelites, I found out that miraculous experiences do not guarantee my one hundred percent commitment to God.

Periodically, I have to remind myself why I started running.

I didn’t start out with the intent of running a marathon.

After turning forty and going back to work after being a full-time mom for ten years, I was craving manna of a different variety. I joined a women’s Bible study with co-workers that focused on living a healthy, balanced life that puts God first. The foundational Scripture for this study was based on Jesus’ answer when asked what is the most important commandment.

He said, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.” (Mark 12:28-30)

Incorporating all four of these into my seemingly one-dimensional relationship with God was the challenge. I pictured a table with four legs; if any of the four legs are shorter than the others, the table will not be stable and not serve its optimal purpose.

What leg(s) of my table were short? Up to that point in my relationship with the Lord, I had varying levels of passion and intermittent commitment. I was short on actual Bible application to back it up as well as physical stamina to go the distance. There really wasn’t a specific reason that I chose running over other forms of exercise. At the time, it was convenient and inexpensive. One day I dusted off an old pair of running shoes and ran for half a mile before becoming completely winded and disappointed in myself.

The next day I cried every time I saw stairs at school.

My legs hurt so much from the one little mile I had pathetically run the day before. For some reason, this made me really mad at myself. I hated the feeling of being out of breath, sore, and not reaching a goal. I saw a connection between simply telling my then kindergarten students to “love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength” and actually living it. Something had to change. I was determined to keep running to get stronger…and to make sure all four legs of the table were balanced.

After a year of heart, soul, mind, and strength training, I ran my first marathon.

As I have been guilty of sitting back and criticizing the Israelites for their lack of trust, disobedience, inconsistent faith, and waning self-control, I see how closely my own life has mirrored theirs. I also see why God said to love Him with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength. The manna with its peculiar characteristics, method of delivery, and instructions for consumption was God’s recipe for nourishing hearts, souls, minds, and strength. Throughout Scripture, God continued to use the bread metaphor to instruct His people on passionate, healthy, balanced living.

As a runner, my favorite bread metaphor is Jesus, the Bread of Life.

So, have I learned anything from the Israelites? Well, for one, I need to consume and be nourished by God’s Word – manna from Heaven – on a daily basis. At times I have settled for stale bread. Why? I’m not altogether sure, but perhaps it was my comfort zone…not wanting to try new things…conveniently using verses to fit my circumstances…or practically speaking, these were the verses I had memorized…my “go to” bread to fill my spiritual shopping cart.

Just as important as enjoying fresh bread, I need to be more intentional about heeding God’s GPS to avoid unnecessary wandering. When I take a wrong turn, I need to quickly go back to the last place where I was confident I was right on course with Jesus.

It’s fascinating to me that God’s faithful, extraordinary provision was followed by forty years of rebellion and wandering which, in turn, led to God giving His first and greatest commandment: to love Him with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength. Miraculously, it is from this commandment that I began running. And along with running, feasting daily on the ultimate carbo-load… Jesus, the Bread of Life.

Chapter Four

“Run to Win”

October 10, 2014 itang5@icloud.com Leave a comment

“Did you win?”

When five-year-olds ask you this question after you tell them you ran a marathon, it can be quite demoralizing to tell them the truth. Even if the truth is that you came in 5,091^st place out of 23,000 runners which was a new personal best. They just don’t get it. And then the disappointment on their faces. A little part of you dies every time. Such was the case when I was a kindergarten teacher. Students loved when I brought in my medals for show-and-tell on Mondays after weekend races. The Disneyland Half Marathon medal was a favorite…of mine, too.

So much so that I made sure students washed their hands before I allowed this medal to be passed around. After all, they were kindergartners.

I enjoyed and learned so much from my four years teaching kindergarten. But I longed to teach a higher grade level because with older students comes greater maturity levels, longer attention spans, deeper levels of academic aptitude, and, most importantly, common knowledge that third grade teachers don’t typically win marathons. So it was with eager anticipation, I proceeded to share with my new third grade class the summer marathon race recap displaying the medal as the grand finale. Then hands went up. Excited faces lit up the room – mine in particular as I called on the first student with his hand up. “Did you win?”

The words came out of his mouth almost in slow motion.

Then my reluctant response followed. “No, but…” There’s really nothing that can follow those words in a kindergartner or third grader’s mind. Let’s face it; in a child’s world, running is all about winning.

Instead of trying to explain why their teacher can’t run 100 meters in under ten seconds or why she hasn’t won any marathons, I decided to take on a new approach. Since our school theme was “Running God’s Race” (I might’ve had something to do with theme selection that year),

I encouraged my students to bring in any medals, ribbons, trophies, or certificates they earned from their sports events. I’ve had several accomplished gymnasts, swimmers, football, basketball, and soccer players, as well as runners in my classes. The first student brought in her race bib along with a medal awarded for being the youngest female cyclist to ride up Mt. Diablo. She proudly pinned her race bib on our class bulletin board. Soon another student shared her Heat Winner ribbons from the weekend’s swim meet as well as second and third place age group ribbons. Those went on the board as well. I loved when parents emailed me videos of their sons receiving their black belts in Taekwondo or their daughter’s gymnastics championship bar routine. We watched those together in class.

And we celebrated each one’s accomplishment.

About mid-year, our class board was looking quite impressive as it was filling up with all sorts of accolades. It wasn’t until after a certain 5K race several students had run that I saw the light bulb go on. Our afterschool running club participated in their first 5K race complete with medals and age group awards. This race was their first experience with “age group” recognition. Since the age groups that applied to my students were “8 and under” and “9 to 12,” several students excitedly shared their first, second, or third place medals. Most of the class knew who had run this race, so they had a rough idea of how many runners made up that age group. When they informally race each other during P.E. class, they know it’s a race against 23 other runners. This 5K race had 468 total runners. One student placed 14^th in his age group and 110^th overall.

A sense of satisfaction filled me that day as I overheard many students say to one another “Whoa, 110^th out of 468! That’s pretty good!” Or “Dude, you got 3^rd in your age group? That’s cool!”

By the end of the school year, none of my students were asking me anymore if I won my races. I did manage to win a few age group medals to which students commented “Wow, great job, Mrs. Tang!”

After teaching for almost ten years, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s almost impossible to have low self-esteem as a teacher especially if you teach younger grades. Whether they happen to see you from across a crowded movie theater, in line at the grocery store, or dining in a local restaurant, students scream out your name like you’re a rock star. It never gets old. But my favorite rock star moment was during the local Run for Education Half Marathon. I turned the corner at Mile 11 where a lot of spectators were cheering, and I heard the sweetest little voice cry out “Mrs. Tang! It’s Mrs. Tang!” Yep, the best feeling in the world. No medal necessary. I already got mine at Mile 11.

This April, there was a race that made me cry.

No, not because I was in typical pain from running. I’m talking about watching the finish of the Boston Marathon. A little man (5’5’’, 126 pounds) with a little name made big history. I’m talking about Meb, the winner of the 2014 Boston Marathon. Most people, myself included, would not have known that Mebrahtom Keflezighi grew up in the little country of Eritrea (northeast Africa) before fleeing the war-ravaged country; or that his harrowing childhood experiences, emigration to Italy then San Diego, UCLA track career, and Olympic marathons would later make for an amazing testimony in a book called Run to Overcome. Before this year’s Boston Marathon, I had read articles and heard interviews about Meb’s faith in God. But it wasn’t until after reading his book (published well before the 2014 Boston Marathon) that I understood the Bible verse that became Meb’s theme:

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.” 1 Corinthians 9:24

Coming from someone who just won the most prestigious marathon in the country and possibly the world (depending on who you ask), this verse seems to be all about a first place finish. When I came across the verse years ago – way before I had started running – I have to admit that it bothered me a bit.

“Only ONE gets the prize?”

Maybe I was looking at it through teacher lenses and picturing disappointment on student faces when I can only give out ONE first place award. Or the times my own daughters have been hundredths of seconds behind the first place swimmers. I’ve also been the parent who volunteered to coordinate ribbons at swim championships and sat there looking at a long table full of ribbons in colors I had never seen because these ribbons went all the way to 16^th place. How does it feel to come in 17^th? The kids always wanted to place 1^st, 2^nd, or 3^rd because then you got a gigantic “fluffy ribbon” – you know, the ones that are over a foot long and have that big round top and two tails hanging from it. But why is it that even if a race was your best finish time by a long shot, the fourth place “little ribbon” still ends up being a little disappointing?

When the Apostle Paul lived in the bustling city of Corinth, Greece, the Isthmian Games were taking place. Similar to our modern summer Olympics, athletes competed in a variety of track and field events as well as wrestling, boxing, poetry reading, and singing.

But in these ancient games, there were no gold, silver, or bronze medals. It was first place or nothing.

Ah, now that verse is beginning to make a little more sense. “Run in such a way as to get the prize.”

Last weekend I ran a trail race that was the last qualifying race in a series leading up to the championship in a few weeks. When I first started this series, I wasn’t thinking at all about standings, awards, or finishes. I just love running the beautiful, albeit challenging trails that lead to some of the most breathtaking views in the Bay Area. Then the race director dangled a new carrot in front of runners on top of the already massive coaster medal and prize money incentives. Top ten males and females would receive a specially designed finisher’s t-shirt.

Honestly, this new incentive didn’t excite me. Why? Because I was way out of top-ten contention.

But a few weeks ago, an updated standings list was posted. I had moved up to number ten because several female runners had not completed the requisite number of qualifying races. This totally changed my mentality going into last weekend’s race. I wanted to keep my top-ten position. I wanted the t-shirt!

This doesn’t make any sense. You’d think I’d run harder, faster, and tougher when I’m way behind in the standings.

When I didn’t think I had a chance, I didn’t try as hard.

All of a sudden, the prize was within reach. A shirt? Really? But what if the prize only went to the top three finishers? Or the first place finisher? I believe I would still show up at the championship race. I believe I would still run somewhat hard, fast, and tough. I believe I would still enjoy the views.

The difference? I wouldn’t be running to win. My mentality would be to “just finish.” Make it through…somehow. Survive.

And now I’m not just talking about running. How many times have I just wanted to “get through” a difficult or cumbersome task? Or “get through the day?” “Or season in life?” I’ve often said to myself “If I can just make it to (fill in the blank).” What would I have done differently on those days if I was guaranteed victory right around the corner? But when faced with a situation in which no end is in sight, how do I take another step? Where’s the finish line?

Remarkable things happen when you catch that first glimpse of the finish line of a race. Any race.

This is what I think Paul was referring to when he wrote 1 Corinthians 9:24 – running or LIVING daily life as if the prize is within reach at all times.

Jesus never promised it would be fast or easy. But He did run the course ahead of us so He would know how to coach us through those challenging spots. Those days when things seem hopeless or you feel like you don’t stand a chance are the best times to go for a run… After all, who doesn’t love a huge come-from-behind finish?

Chapter Three

“The Great Wall”

October 10, 2014 itang5@icloud.com Leave a comment

In stark contrast to last chapter’s pancake-flat race course through colorful, Disney character-filled lands only 60 years old, this chapter’s inspiration comes from the opposite. With its main sections totaling over 13,000 miles and earliest ones built 700 years B.C., the Great Wall Marathon is hardly a walk in the park. This marathon challenges runners to steep ascents and descents along with 5,164 stone steps.

Whoa, wait, no, I most certainly have not run the Great Wall Marathon!

However, it did cross my mind two years ago as our family was planning its first visit to China. Ah, yes, scheduling races and runs as part of vacation itineraries…Runner’s World magazine lists this habit as “one of the ways you know you’re a runner.” But since I wasn’t about to convince all seventeen family members (ranging from 3 to 75 years old) to plan our trip around this marathon, I would just have to be content riding the gondola up to the wall and climbing its steep, uneven paths alongside thousands of other sweaty bodies…not that different from a marathon.

Maybe some things are just meant to be enjoyed from afar.

As our tour bus drove the picturesque countryside from Beijing’s Forbidden City fifty miles northwest to Badaling, the anticipation of visiting one of the Seven Wonders of the World grew as the scenery became more breathtaking. One of the things I have grown to appreciate about our family is its wit and sense of humor. So, of course, the bus ride to the ancient wonder was filled with conversation about the adjective “great.” Having only seen photos up to this point, we posed questions like: “How great is this wall anyway?” “Couldn’t they have come up with a better word to describe it?” “Are all other walls mediocre?” And then the bus rounded a corner which gave our anxious, naïve group its first glimpse of the wall.

And it was – for lack of a better word – great.

It actually and literally took my breath away. Similar to seeing the Grand Canyon in person, there are just no words to properly express the experience of seeing this endless structure traversing the lush, deep, green miles of mountainside. I felt humbled.

Now I was really excited. I pictured this moment years ago when my very generous and gracious mother-in-law offered to take the whole Tang family to China.

It had been her heart’s desire to introduce her children and grandchildren to her beloved country of birth and infuse a bit of Chinese heritage into a generation of McDonald’s-Costco-loving-iPhone-dependent-Facebookers. And that’s just me. We were about to check off one of the “must-sees” when in China. I had even pictured myself going for a nice 8 or 9 mile run along the wall while the rest of my family leisurely walked and stopped often to take photos of the unlimited postcard-worthy views.

As we stood in the long line waiting for the gondola to take us up to The Great Wall, I soon realized how uneducated I was about its significance. For one, I didn’t know The Great Wall could be seen from the Moon. I didn’t know the wall extended to the Gobi Desert and into Mongolia from the eastern coast past Beijing. I didn’t know the section of wall we were visiting was the first section open to the public as well as being the most frequently renovated and strongest as it once protected nearby Beijing from invasions by Mongols and Manchurians. On this day, the seventeen-member Tang Dynasty invaded The Great Wall along with more tourists than I have ever rubbed sweaty arms and legs.

It was more crowded than the start line of the L.A. and S.F. Marathons combined.

My dream of running on The Great Wall quickly faded as I saw that this whole section of wall (26 feet high and 16 feet wide at its widest) was more wall-to-wall tourists than brick – The Great Wall of Tourists. Annoyed also by the noon-day humidity, I was determined to make my way through the crowds to find a cooler, less-populated section to redeem part of my dream. I did find some redemption as I ventured farther down the wall than most tourists were willing to go since the trek down meant a steep trek back up. After escaping the most crowded sections, I found it quite pleasant and even relaxing to gaze out into the distance and see nothing but miles of wall and green mountains.

It was surreal. I realized that to truly appreciate this wall, I had to look past it. Standing there on the wall itself was not THE great part. The greatness came from taking in all that it represented.

In running, “the great wall” is really not-so-great from any vantage point. Often referred to as “hitting the wall” or “bonking,” I have fallen victim to visiting this wall many times. I’ve read dozens of articles to try to gain a better understanding of how it is I continue to hit this wall despite hours of training and proper nutrition. This excerpt from www.competitor.com seems to cover it simply enough:

“The prevailing belief has been that the wall occurs when a runner depletes his or her very limited reserves of glycogen, a carbohydrate-based fuel source for muscle contractions. The body stores plenty of glycogen to get through shorter races, but not always enough to deliver runners to the finish line of a marathon, especially if their pace is too aggressive.”

“If their pace is too aggressive.” The story of my running life. How many times have I crossed the finish line and looked down at my Garmin watch only to be disappointed that I didn’t hit my goal? More often than not.

Out of the twenty-three marathons I have run, there have only been five in which I hit my goal.

What went wrong in those eighteen races? Mainly, I went out too fast. So, the obvious solution is to stop going out faster than my goal pace, right? After all, if I’ve already calculated that I need to maintain a 9:30 minute mile pace (no one will ever mistake me for a speed demon), what am I doing going 9:00 and 8:45 early on? Sure, in those first few marathons, I could blame adrenaline and inexperience.

You would think that the physical and psychological pain encountered at Mile 20 would be enough to ensure that I never make that mistake again.

Yet something happens after the starting horn goes off. I feel good. I have this internal dialogue with myself convincing me that I can somehow hold this pace despite training at a slower pace. I think to myself “Today is the day!”

I even repeat favorite Bible verses over and over such as “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

Hmmm, somehow when Paul wrote that verse to the church in Philippi, I don’t think he was envisioning this middle-aged mom trying to run a sub-4 hour marathon.

It is easy to take certain Bible verses out of context. Over the years, I have come to appreciate any verses that refer to running – and there are many. But that widely-quoted verse from Philippians 4:13 was actually part of a thank you letter written by Paul as a missionary dependent on the donations from those supporting his calling to deliver the Gospel to the unreached.

“…I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. ¹²I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. ¹³I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”

Based on verse 13 alone, more people should be running marathons and qualifying for Boston. But as I look at my own track record, this mindset has ironically kept me from more success. I believe the key reason I have failed to maintain a more consistent race pace (leading to hitting the wall) is not being content or convinced that God’s timing is best for me.

Before any race – of any distance – I always ask God to be my coach, running partner, and pacer. I ask Jesus to “guide my stride” and “pace my race.”

Too often after the starting horn goes off, I take matters into my own hands – and feet. I can’t be content with my Coach’s plan when everyone else is racing ahead of me. All of a sudden, I have selectively chosen to ignore verses 11 and 12 because “I can do ALL THIS through Him who gives me strength” just sounds so much better and easier to believe.

Now, this in no way implies that God doesn’t want us to aim high and rely on Him to do the seemingly impossible. But Philippians 4:13 can be a recipe for marathon – or any endeavor – disaster when taken out of context. It is a difference in perspective. Process versus outcome.

Am I willing to trust that God knows the most beneficial pace for me to achieve certain goals in a race…or in life?

We’ve all hit walls in life. How we come out the other side largely depends on our perspective.

Did I learn from my mistakes? Do I see this setback as a stepping stone to the next great improvement? Is this circumstance exposing a weakness I need to address? Do I need to set more realistic goals factoring in the cost to family and friends? Am I content with how God provides each step of the way?

Sure, there are things I could have done to prevent hitting those walls. But much like the way one should look at The Great Wall of China, you can’t just look at one section to appreciate its greatness; you need to look at the whole.

Chapter Two

“The Happiest Race on Earth”

October 10, 2014 itang5@icloud.com Leave a comment

Since I’m not quite ready or in a place where I want to share about the pain of “yielding fruit” as I mentioned in Chapter One, I decided to go to a place of happier times. My first visit to the Magic Kingdom was summer of 1974…I think. My only evidence is a picture I remember of my younger sister sitting in a stroller by the Matterhorn with a plastic drinking straw up her nose. By deductive reasoning, it couldn’t have been 1973 since she was born in June of that year and wouldn’t have been sitting yet; it couldn’t have been 1975 because I remember at the time we still lived in an old upstairs apartment across the street from my second grade happy place – the public library. And my last shred of evidence is that my sister was dressed in shorts and a tank top. This proves it was summer because there is no way that my very Asian mother would dress her child in anything less than clothing fit for Nanook of the North unless it was a sweltering hot summer day.

Growing up in Southern California had many advantages, one of which was frequent pilgrimages to the Magic Kingdom. Those were the days of ticket books instead of computer generated passes. Those were also the days when being seven years older than your sibling enabled you to negotiate trading “A” tickets for coveted “E” tickets. Shame on me for taking advantage of a five year old, but what was I supposed to do with leftover tickets for the carousel or horse-driven buggy rides when Space Mountain tickets were sitting idly in her unassuming little hands? Many happy memories originated right there on Main Street where so many get their first glimpses of the most recognized castle in the world.

I would have never thought that 36 years later I’d be running a half marathon through this castle with my daughter.

So, what’s all the hype about running the Disneyland Half Marathon which now sells out in an hour despite being THE most expensive half marathon in the world? My favorite spectator poster on the course last year at Mile 10 said “Keep going! Only $44.67 left!” And yet, I continued for the fifth year in a row to pay the exorbitant registration fee, travel, and hotel costs for this one “magical” race. I suppose everything about Disney is somewhat magical as seemingly anything with its branding turns a profit faster than the Splash Mountain roller coaster. But why do folks like me buy into all the hype?

I suppose the real magic is Disney’s memory-making ability.

They are creating and selling memories. This Labor Day weekend Natalie and I will once again traverse the streets of Anaheim and both Disney parks in our quest for another giant signature “D” medal from the happiest place on Earth. I have looked forward to this weekend every year since we first began the tradition five years ago.

In fact, each year it becomes more important than the last.

But it is not as a result of magical Disney branding. We decided after the first year that THIS would be our annual mother-daughter bonding trip. As I’m writing, it occurs to me that this tradition began Natalie’s sophomore year in high school – looking back now, a simpler time. Since then, many milestones have come and gone. Meagan starting high school. Driver’s license. College visits. Nat graduating high school. First jobs. First year in college. Teaching third grade. Hanging on to our home and marriage after four years of real estate downturn. New business opportunities for Dave. And realizing my parents are aging…memory loss progressing. Why are traditions so important now? Proverbs 3:1-4 comes to mind:

“My son, do not forget my teaching, but keep my commands in your heart,for they will prolong your life many years and bring you peace and prosperity. Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart. Then you will win favor and a good name in the sight of God and man.”

Bind them around your neck…like a giant Disney medal? Okay, that might be a stretch but one that helps me visualize a beautiful picture of what God deems worthy to pass on to our children. Life events, achievements, milestones, circumstances… These will come and go. Some will be marked with grand celebrations. Some with flowers or a card. Most will be remembered in photos. Some might be painfully forgotten. Surely God knows our hearts. After all, He did create them.

He knows we long for emotional ties, deeper relationships, to be understood, and to create meaningful, lasting memories.

The giant Disney medal reminds me of God’s love and faithfulness year after year. A lot of life has happened since I first talked Natalie into running this race with me. And a lot of life missed. I think about the many times I came home from work emotionally drained and too tired to make dinner much less know the struggles of my kids. Too tired to listen to Dave talk about amazing new clients finally closing escrow on their dream home. Too preoccupied with students struggling in my own class. Too many essays and worksheets to grade. Too many repetitive phone calls from my mom reminding me that her memory was starting to fail.

It’s not that the medal or going to Disneyland makes it all better or erases a year’s worth of failures.

Rather, it’s one of many God-given opportunities to create new memories and to bond with my child. As the years go by, quicker each time, I see both of my daughters in a new light. Each year my prayers for them have evolved – sometimes as subtly as their expensive haircuts and sometimes as drastically as their iPhone data usage. But one prayer has remained steadfast since they were preschoolers:

“Lord, I pray Your Word would be deeply rooted in their hearts and that their lives would reflect it.”

Each year family members become busier and busier, and traditional gatherings become harder and harder to orchestrate. With extended family, these are usually the gatherings when we find out about new jobs, new relationships, new achievements, and new challenges. I suppose this is one of the benefits of social media like Facebook – a quick and easy way to find out what’s going on in everyone’s lives. At the height of my own busyness last year, I did not realize where Dave had flown for a business trip until I saw a friend’s comment on his Facebook post. How did I allow myself to become so out-of-touch with my own husband?

How will I know if my prayers for my family are being answered if I don’t spend time with them to see these prayers come to fruition?

Some people have the means to just throw money at a problem if they are too busy to handle it themselves. A few years ago I read an article in a magazine about “outsourcing parenting.” The article talked about how busy parents have become and are now enabled by services that will even teach their child to ride a bike. One of my fondest memories as a parent is teaching my own kids how to ride their bikes. I can’t imagine relegating that joy to a stranger with no vested interest other than to make money.

Maybe reading that article made me feel a little better about myself, but it shouldn’t have.

Good news! Disney doesn’t have the monopoly on memory-making. When we choose to partner with the Creator of our hearts in making meaningful memories, it goes a long way. When we choose to write His Word on our hearts and make sure our families see evidence of this choice, it is priceless. In fact, MasterCard and Disney only touch the surface of fulfilling childhood dreams and building family legacies.

Proverbs 3 is God’s invitation to us to take His hand like a little child takes that of his parent.

As we walk hand-in-hand through the “magic kingdom,” He loves to tell me every detail of how He built the different lands and rides. He has a twinkle in His eye as He recounts how He couldn’t wait for me to ride that first ride. I want to immediately go on the “big rides,” but He says I’m not tall enough yet and could get hurt. I also really want some popcorn, a churro, and a caramel apple since they all look and smell so tempting. He firmly looks me in the eyes to tell me that these things will spoil my appetite, and then I won’t enjoy the amazing meal He already has planned for me. We stop often to sit at the many shaded benches along the way to rest. During those times of rest, I get to sit so close to Him that I can feel His heartbeat and His breath on my shoulder. Ah, and then the fireworks – His handiwork at its grandest and most creative. The power, beauty, and danger simultaneously orchestrated; yet I feel completely safe and secure holding His hand.

I never want this day to end.

In the heart of Disneyland there stands the famous statue of Walt Disney holding Mickey’s hand. Simply named “Partners,” this statue represents Walt’s vision when creating his magical theme park:

“I think most of all what I want Disneyland to be is a happy place…Where parents and children can have fun, together.”

Together. A word that has taken me nearly a lifetime to realize its importance. I love that J.R.R. Tolkien wrote in Lord of the Rings, “Books ought to have good endings. How would this do: and they all settled down and lived together happily ever after?” Most fairy tale endings omit the word “together.” I suppose togetherness is implied. But what I have come to realize recently is that I need to be very intentional about togetherness. I need to plan it, carve out time for it, implement it, prioritize it, do it, and find joy in it. When Dave and I were dating, a defining point in our relationship came when we found we could enjoy each other’s company at a laundromat just folding laundry.

Finding joy in the mundane. It really didn’t matter what we were doing, the point was just being together.

I have also found this point to be true in my relationship with Jesus. I have often sought out remote, scenic locations to spend time reading my Bible and chatting it up with God. I don’t have to go very far; several parks in our neighborhood are nice, as is the nearby Lafayette Reservoir which also makes for a great hill run after my coffee and devotional time. Last Easter vacation, I was feeling restless and drove out to Monterey by myself for a run along the coast thinking that would bring me peace and “togetherness” with the Lord. It ended up being a really long drive, an average run, and not the awe-filled-heard-angels-singing experience I tried to manufacture that day.

I was reminded that God just wants to be with little ol’ me every day, every moment, even in the most mundane activities and places. The cost for this lesson: a tank of gas. The benefits: priceless.

And so was our fifth year running the Disneyland Half Marathon. The race itself has never been a PR (personal record) type of event since many runners stop to pose with the many Disney characters along the route. And who can resist the photo opportunity running through the famed castle?! Countless memories are now attached to these Disney icons with every turn on the course. And speaking of the course, it is not limited to the theme parks as it traverses its way to Angel Stadium via major streets of Anaheim. Once inside the stadium, Disney manages to assemble crowds of volunteer organizations such as Girl and Boy Scout troops (rewarded with free Disney admission for their 5 am appearance) to cheer runners on. Met by applause, high fives, posters, and cheers, runners also catch their images on the jumbo-tron as the announcer calls out names electronically received from the timing chips on race bibs. Yep, it is kind of cool to hear “Irene from San Ramon!” booming over the speakers in that special announcer voice. (Doesn’t it sound like the same voice no matter which sports stadium you’re in?)

This year, a non-audible voice also cheered me on when I needed it most.

I usually hate Mile 11 since the heat of the day has hit the streets, it is not a particularly interesting part of the route, and I’m just tired. I even prayed specifically this day for this section of the run to go by faster or to just run it with a better attitude. Almost right after the Mile 11 signage, a runner with a lime green t-shirt appeared in front of me.

The back of his shirt had Isaiah 40:31 written: “But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will RUN and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”

Funny thing, the last two miles weren’t so bad after that. Besides crossing the finish line with Mickey, Minnie, and various other characters high-fiving (fouring) runners, my other favorite moment is the post-race gathering. By this time, Natalie and I have received our medals, cooling towels, Powerade, snack box, and taken photos by the official race photographers from which some of the most de-moralizing, unattractive pictures of myself have come as I can’t think of a moment when I would look as disgusting as after a race.

And yet, these become some of my favorite photos.

The post-race atmosphere is truly a celebration. In this barricaded area right outside Downtown Disney, thousands of runners and family members gather. Natalie and I got our requisite ice bags from the medical tent and plunked our sore, sweaty bodies down on seemingly the most comfortable asphalt ever. With the finish line jumbo-tron in view, we sit with ice bags on various body parts, simultaneously stretching and eating the contents of our Disney snack boxes. Last year, the jumbo-tron caught several finish line marriage proposals. You gotta love a couple that runs a half marathon together, right? Sure sign that this marriage will last? Maybe if you’re the couple that ran dressed as Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia then had a non-running friend hand the guy the ring at the finish line as well as a sign that said “Will you join forces with me?” She said “Yes.”

Many emotions and reasons for celebration can be observed as we continue to sit, stretch, and ice ourselves.

We see runners wearing shirts from out-of-state and even out-of-country. (Dave would say out-of-mind.) We see half-marathoners as young as twelve and as old as eighty. For some, this was their first race ever. For some, it was a bucket list item. For some, it was the crowning achievement after overcoming health issues.

For me, it was enjoying a sport I have come to love with someone I have always loved.

As we survey the crowds around us, Natalie and I always comment on runners wearing multiple race medals. We have a bit of bling envy but soon talk ourselves out of it because to be wearing the two to five possible race medals you had to have run a 5K, 10K, and half marathon and completed one of these at Disneyland and Disney World within one year. Someday I might do the Coast to Coast Challenge. And while I’m at it, I might as well do the Dopey Challenge which is running the 5K, 10K, half marathon, and full marathon in four consecutive days for a total of 48.6 miles and six medals. (Dave would say dopey, for sure.) Once again, the magic of Disney marketing is at hand. Why else would I ever even consider traveling cross country to run that many miles in one weekend? Those better be some impressive medals. But I do believe somehow those six medals – no matter how huge and impressive – wouldn’t mean as much to me as the one I get from running with Natalie each year.

Together. A word that embodies so much of what running has come to mean in my life.

I often receive the most clarity when I am running. Heightened prayers, verses illustrated before my eyes, coming to the end of my own abilities, and learning to run in Jesus’ footsteps. You could say that running alone has taught me the importance of running together.

Chapter One

“Don’t Wither”

October 10, 2014 itang5@icloud.com Leave a comment

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 8^th 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 25^th 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.

Running God's Race

“The Ultimate Carbo-Load”

“Run to Win”

“The Great Wall”

“The Happiest Race on Earth”

“Don’t Wither”

Runner or not, it's all about the course God has marked out for YOU and "running" it with perseverance!