“Training for the Valleys”

October 6, 2015 itang5@icloud.com 1 Comment

I couldn’t figure out why I was dreading last Saturday’s Rocky Ridge half marathon. Yeah, it’s a tough course, but I’ve never felt this way before ANY race.

For a few weeks prior, I just had this feeling of impending doom. Maybe it was because I felt like dying at my last trail race back in August. Or maybe it was because I knew there was no way I was gonna be able to finish anywhere close to my Rocky Ridge PR (personal record) three years ago. It really didn’t even matter that just a year ago I had won my age group and finished seventh in the Ultra Series women’s division. This whole year I had been running eight to eighteen minutes slower in all my races, so what did I really expect for Rocky Ridge?

If I’m being honest with myself, there’s other things I’ve been dreading more lately.

I feel like a horrible person even as I’m writing this, but I dread when I see my mom and dad’s phone number pop up on my phone. It’s almost never a good thing when either of them call. And this year it’s just gotten worse.

Unbeknownst to us, my mom has been showing signs of dementia for probably ten years…maybe longer. We all just attributed her forgetfulness, repetitiveness, and delusional rants to normal aging. If I had been more proactive in spending time with mom doing stuff that she enjoys and talking about things that interest her, maybe I would’ve clued in sooner.

And I’m realizing it doesn’t even need to be deep, meaningful conversations or major outings.

Just little visits focused on mom. Small talk. Silly, corny joke telling. Updating her on Natalie and Meagan’s lives even if it’s answering the same old questions: “How is Natalie’s swimming class?” “Is Meagan still doing cupcakes?”

Somehow after twelve years swimming on a team, Mom still calls it “class” or “lessons.” And Meagan’s booming entrepreneurial endeavors in the cupcake world always boil down to whether it’s taking too much time and energy away from school.

And don’t even get me started on how she asks me if I’m still doing that “jogging thing.”

Yes, all family members feel their patience tested to the limit when we get together. I rationalize it as some sort of grand sacrifice we’re making.

So, then I think I’m being SUCH a good daughter for “putting up with” all her redundancy. Actually, her repetition doesn’t bother me as much as her commentaries on what we should or shouldn’t be doing – which means we can’t talk about ANYTHING that’s important to me.

If I’m choosing my battles, I would take her asking me twenty times if I want more food over her recent behaviors…

Which brings me to my poor dad. And how we realize the dementia is progressing.

My dad is a retired civil and structural engineer. After retiring over twenty years ago, he routinely played golf almost every day. My dad and I used to go biking from his house in San Ramon to the Danville Farmer’s Market and Peet’s Coffee. We enjoyed walks on the Iron Horse Trail and day trips to Half Moon Bay. He loved vacations and traveling. A devout Christian and former deacon at his church, Dad also wanted to be an overseas missionary in his retirement.

But these days a trip to Costco is considered an adventure. His glaucoma specialist is in Concord, so doctor’s visits followed by lunch are the farthest he travels.

At his last eye appointment, the doctor wanted to speak with me about whether there were other medical conditions or circumstances going on with my dad. It had only been three months since his last visit, but the doctor noticed significant changes in my dad’s appearance and energy level. I didn’t want to go into all the sordid details of the situation at home with mom, so I just said that I would make sure dad got a check-up with his general practitioner soon.

Ironically, his eye doctor confirmed an eye problem that I was experiencing: seeing my dad’s strength and confidence erode right before my eyes. Now it’s so obvious. The shuffling when he walks. The staring into space. The drained expressions. The repeating of himself. And the phone calls.

I see his number appear on my phone, and I just know that he and mom had another fight.

Last week it was because Mom forgot she had finished some food in the fridge and accused Dad of stealing it. A few days before that, she threw a cup at him because “the bad lady” she imagines my dad secretly seeing must have gone into her closet and stolen some clothes hangers. I admit that these incidents don’t surprise or phase me anymore since I’ve been hearing about them for years.

However, the most recent incident really caught me off guard and grieves me like nothing else. My dad was upstairs in his study when he heard my mom in the backyard screaming at their rear neighbors’ house. No one was there. She was just screaming about how she “knew” they were stealing stuff from her and trying to take Dad away from her along with his money. All my dad could say was that he was thankful she was yelling in Taiwanese and praying no one could understand her.

I was thinking about all of this in my car an hour and a half before the race last Saturday.

I had planned on arriving early to get a decent parking spot and avoid having to take the race day shuttles. It’s actually kind of peaceful to get to a race a little earlier and just have time to reflect, read the Bible verse of the day, and pray.

The sun had not come up yet and there was no cell reception where I had parked. As I sat in my car finishing my bagel and soy latte waiting for enough light to read my Bible, I just felt heavy. No, not from excessive carbo-loading all week. Heavy hearted. Heavy spirited.

I still had not pinpointed why I was so anxious about this year’s race.

It was my fourth year running Rocky Ridge, the finale of Brazen Racing’s Ultra Half Marathon Series. My fastest time was that first year with a 3:10 finish for a trail race with 4,000 feet of elevation change. I didn’t realize what a gift that day’s weather was until the second and third year’s 90 plus degree heat.

The weather wasn’t really my concern that day. Getting a new PR was not realistic or a concern either.

When the sun allowed me the first glimpse at my Bible verse of the day along with a short devotional, it revealed these words:

“If You can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.” Mark 9:22

The accompanying devotional penned by the late Oswald Chambers had this to say:

“After every time of exaltation, we are brought down with a sudden rush into things as they really are, where it is neither beautiful, poetic, nor thrilling. The height of the mountaintop is measured by the dismal drudgery of the valley, but it is in the valley that we have to live for the glory of God. We SEE His glory on the mountain, but we never LIVE for His glory there. It is in the place of humiliation that we find our true worth to God – that is where our faithfulness is revealed.”

Hmmm…

I started to reflect on the many times a good race has given me that “rush” aka that “mountaintop high.” And they haven’t always come as a result of a new PR. In fact, I haven’t PR’d at all in 2015. Not even close. Yet, I have gotten some of the highest of highs and crystal clear clarity during races this year.

I continued to read:

“Most of us can do things if we are always at some heroic level of intensity, simply because of the natural selfishness of our own hearts. But God wants us to be at the drab everyday level, where we live in the valley according to our personal relationship with Him.”

Stop.

It suddenly became crystal clear that I wanted to be my mom and dad’s “hero.” Their first born child coming to their rescue. Dramatic breakthroughs – mountaintop experiences – as I sacrifice my time to take them on day trips to Half Moon Bay or to Sweet Tomatoes or to the doctor. So I can feel like a good daughter. So I can alleviate my own guilt.

And that was exactly it; I just wanted to do the minimum with maximum effect to not feel guilty.

Funny, but that is a parallel to how I’ve trained for races this year.

I’ve blogged before about my love-hate relationship with any sort of drills, mostly speed work. Weird that I would rather run 20 miles than do 20 minutes of speed work. But as I have discovered the hard way, simply banging out miles doesn’t make you faster. Sure, your running log graph looks more impressive; but that’s about it.

If I’m going to truly come alongside my mom and dad in this next season of their lives, I’m realizing it’s going to involve a lot of drills and targeting places that have never been worked. And most importantly, putting aside my own pride.

I debated with myself on whether to even mention specifics about my mom’s condition. Some may think it humiliating or disrespecting a very private matter. Oh wait, you meant humiliating to my mom. I was actually referring to me.

Yes, all this came to me in that hour and a half before the race. By now, race shuttles were dropping off runners and my bladder was telling me I better go get in line for the porta-potties soon.

So, I wrapped up my pre-race devotional time by asking God to forgive me for my pride and selfishness with my mom and dad. I asked Him to help me put aside my desire for the dramatic and be more willing to seek out the mundane and simple tasks that might bring joy to my mom’s day and peace to my dad’s mind. I asked God to help me be content with the day to day stuff…and to not dread phone calls.

And before I got out of my car, I realized why I had been dreading this race. I was so consumed with the mountains that I had forgotten about the valleys.

In addition to calling my folks more and doing the “little things” better, I’m hitting the track, treadmill, and cycle studio each week. I’m thinking of bringing over our old Chinese Checkers set to play with my mom. One of her favorite games. Maybe I’ll ask her to teach me how to make Sticky Rice. Maybe we’ll even cut coupons together from Sunday’s newspaper.

As for last Saturday’s race, I enjoyed it more this year than any other year – hands down. Did I PR that day? Nope. But I came down from the mountain stronger than I had started.

Chapter 14

“Teaching vs. Unlearning”

August 31, 2015 itang5@icloud.com 3 Comments

I recently read that one of Jesus’ main purposes on Earth was not to “teach” His disciples but to “unlearn” them.

I’ve been pondering this thought a lot lately. Having been a teacher for the past ten years, of course, this notion immediately struck a chord. What came to mind when I saw the word “unlearn?” I thought of bad habits, faulty procedures, and negative thought patterns that needed to be corrected. Funny thing…I don’t remember anyone ever having to teach bad habits. But it stands to reason that for something to be UN-learned, it first had to be learned, right?

Okay, as a former teacher, I have to start with some small, tangible examples:

Bad habits – eating dinner in front of the TV, letting the water run while brushing teeth, not leaving enough time in the morning to read God’s Word

Faulty procedures – static stretches before running, not labeling the flour and powdered sugar canisters in the kitchen, letting gas tank run down to fumes before filling up

Negative thought patterns – “if I want something done, I should just do it myself,” “Pinterest is only for perfect moms,” “I’m fat.”

Maybe some of those aren’t exactly small as they have had large and far reaching impact during different seasons of my life. Which leads me to why I started this post and a Bible verse that comes to mind:

“And the cares of this world, the deceitfulness of riches, and the desires for other things entering in choke the Word, and it becomes unfruitful.” Mark 4:19 (NKJV)

I’m learning a lot about myself now that I am “self-employed.”

I’ve always said that I could never be self-employed.

For twenty-nine years – since the day I met Dave – I’ve been saying this because I have watched and lived and loved and hated and argued and cried and ignored and celebrated all that comes with being married to a self-employed man. Dave was wired by our Creator to be self-employed. He’s a visionary. He’s a long-term planner. He’s thick skinned. He’s a numbers person. He left a secure job with a fairly reliable income. He did this during an historically low time in the marketplace. And against the better judgement of some friends and family. Sounds to me like what the original disciples were called to do. Ah…the disciples were self-employed, too!

And he actually enjoys the business he has built from the ground up the last twenty plus years.

He has learned what it takes to ride the cycle that is the real estate market and the economy. He has learned to enjoy and capitalize on the “fat years” and throw nets on the other side of the boat during the “lean years.” He has dealt with the best of humanity and some of the worst. He has worked eighteen hour days. One time he came home at 5 am – which woke me up – and he pretended like he was just getting out of bed instead of getting into bed.

Years ago during some of Dave’s nail-biter, putting out fire after fire, juggling and resuscitating multiple deals kind of weeks, I noticed he’d come home with ovals imprinted into his forehead. I didn’t think much of it until a brief period of time when I worked in his office and saw him on his phone – calm but tense – with fingers pressed into his forehead. This went on all day as I observed from my windowed office across the hall. So, now when Dave comes home and it seems to have been a rough day, I ask “Was it a three or four finger day?”

And speaking of when Dave comes home, he learned a great habit from a great man, Raymond Tang.

His dad made it a habit to come home from work each day with a smile on his face no matter how bad the day. He also made it a habit to show how much he loved his mom with public displays of affection which mom always blushed at but clearly enjoyed despite her scolding “Raymond, not in front of the kids!”

So, Dave set out twenty-seven years ago to be that kind of husband and dad. I would say that Raymond Tang would be quite proud of his oldest son.

After experiencing first hand what it takes to run a successful business, I now have a new appreciation of the even bigger accomplishment of coming home to your family with a smile on your face each day. You see, I have recently allowed the cares and struggles of this new season in my life to choke out the truly important. I have allowed concerns over things I can’t control rob me of daily joy.

I am learning that I hate not being in control. Perhaps as a former teacher, the daily classroom control fed that part of me. I am learning that I crave daily affirmation. Third graders definitely had a way of making me feel like a rock star… even on my worst days. And I am learning that I’m not very good at letting go.

In Philippians 4, Paul wrote one of my all time fave running verses:

“I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us.” (NLT)

But the verse immediately before this has become my nemesis lately:

“I know that I have not yet reached that goal, but there is one thing I always do. Forgetting the past and straining toward what is ahead…” (NCV)

Until recently, I thought Paul was saying we should forget past mistakes and not dwell on failures. Yes, we should. BUT it never occurred to me that he is also referring to past successes and “the good ol’ days.” This ability to let go of the past – good and bad – frees us up to run another race without the excess baggage of previous good or bad performances. I keep reading running articles lately about letting go of the pressure to PR every race. Hyper-focusing on bad running habits, faulty procedures, and negative thought patterns. This self-imposed pressure can suck the joy out of running.

Not a coincidence that I’m reminded lately to go back to the basics in my running. To remember why I started this business of running. And just enjoying each run.

Essentially, I am unlearning how to run.

And not just on the race course but off…

How do I be the best me in this next season of life?

As for those bad habits, faulty procedures, and negative thought patterns, I suppose I need to not allow them to suck the joy out of my day. After all, I know better. God’s very Word has taught me better. Each day is a new opportunity – a new race. Am I willing to let go of everything from the smallest pet peeve to my deepest regrets to my most prized accomplishments? Am I willing to unlearn that which is now holding me captive?

When I think about what is at stake, why wouldn’t I? And what exactly is at stake?

Crossing the finish line each day with a smile.

Chapter Thirteen

“What’s in a Song?”

August 11, 2015 itang5@icloud.com Leave a comment

Over the years, friends have asked me what songs I listen to when I run. I definitely have my faves as well as some that have unexpectedly caught me in the right moment and made an impact on much more than that day’s run.

Studies show that running to music can boost performance by fifteen percent. Of course, this varies greatly with the type of runner.

‘”Elite athletes,” says sports psychologist Dr. Karageorghis, “are usually ‘associators’, which means they tend to focus inwardly when they are running.” Most other runners, he says, are “dissociators” (or are somewhere between the two). This means they look for stimulus and distraction from what is going on around them.’

Studies also show that the best exercise music is between 120 to 140 BPM (beats per minute). A New York Times article and Runners’ World suggests the following method for finding your ideal BPM:

1. Run for 15 minutes at a pace you are comfortable with
2. If you are starting out this will be slower than if you are a conditioned runner.
3. During that run count your steps for 1 minute. Do this several times to get an average.
4. Then, refer to the chart below to determine the BPM you should choose.

Was this method effective for me? I wouldn’t know; I’ve never seen or heard of any of this information until googling it just now. I researched this strictly for friends (you know who you are) that really want to know the mathematics and “science” behind things.

As for me, I started running to music because I was afraid of becoming bored on my runs; plus, I didn’t like hearing the sound of my own Darth Vader-esque breathing.

“The right music doesn’t soothe the savage beast, it makes the beast more savage. When you’re going for a long run, that’s exactly what you want. The pulse of thumping beats can make you feel superhuman. It certainly beats the sound of your own labored breathing.” – Brent Rose, Fitmodo/Gizmodo

And so it was seven years ago that I began this journey called running and, subsequently, downloading music to simply distract me from the accompanying pain and agony.

My first downloads were “obvious” choices like “Don’t Stop Believin” and “Eye of the Tiger.” As a former aerobics instructor and step class junkie, I also felt the need to add those techno-pop 80s sports stadium hits like “The Power” and “Get Ready for This.” For my forty and older friends, you’re welcome.

I quickly realized those tunes were good for short spurts, reminiscing, and waiting for the crosswalk. I had also got it in my head to run my first race that spring – a half marathon. Weekly mileage quickly ramped up. My first double-digit run was nothing short of a miracle in my mind. To go from a six mile run to TEN was monumental for little ol’ me who had never run more than a mile non-stop just six months prior. Several things in my life had changed during that time including the way I ate, how I would spend EVERY Saturday morning, and the music on my iPod.

About a dozen of you reading this remember exactly how it is that I started running seven years ago as part of my conviction to live a more balanced, healthy lifestyle. A little Bible study series called “First Place4Health” was my starting line to what I soon realized was a life-long race. The foundational verses of this Bible study literally changed my life:

“But seek FIRST his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” Matthew 6:33

“Love the Lord your God with all your HEART and with all your SOUL and with all your MIND and with all your STRENGTH.” Mark 12:30

At the time I was a kindergarten teacher, so visual and tactile lessons really spoke volumes to me.

I pictured a table with four legs with each leg representing my heart, soul, mind, and strength.

Having been a Christian since high school youth group, I had heard these verses before but never delved into applying them in a tangible way. When I look back seven years ago, I was in prime position for God to really speak into some cold, dark places of my life made so by some disappointment, frustrations, and near financial devastation at the time. My weight and physical fitness were the least of my worries in comparison to looming notices of default and navigating new seasons in parenting and marriage. I knew I had to commit it all to my Heavenly Father’s wisdom, so I prayed…a lot. And cried…a lot. I read His Word seeking answers. Looking back, I think I was seeking quick fixes. Not a lot sunk in until I made the decision to commit – not just my mind in reading verses and commentaries, and not just my soul in praying – but also my heart and strength to loving God.

Just like the four-legged table, if one leg is short, the table is unbalanced and cannot optimally serve its purpose.

Most people neglect one or more of these four legs. How exactly does one correct this imbalance? Matthew 6:33 simply states “seek God first.” And that means in everything from how you eat, how you work, how you relate to people, how you view circumstances, how you exercise, to how you choose songs for your next run.

Fast forward seven years…

Thirty five pounds less and well over a hundred races later, I am not saying that the four legs of my table are perfectly balanced; but more so than before. As a fine furniture craftsmen appreciates the value of good tools, I have come to appreciate the value of a good song to training and racing. But unlike the craftsmen, I am not as much in tune with technical things like BPM.

Plain and simple, I just choose songs that I like.

Having said this, I would be completely remiss if I did not mention the role teaching third grade has had on my running and song choices. To say I was elated when I first got my contract would be an understatement. Third grade was my heart’s desire; God’s timing and provision were evidence that He knew this. The first thing I did that summer in preparation for my new classroom was implement my “Song of the Week” activity. From having teenage daughters, I knew the importance and influence of music in kids’ lives. So, I set out to give my students an alternative to what was popular.

My conviction was to give them the tools to become more active listeners.

If you’ve ever heard five-year-olds parroting lyrics from Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Maroon Five, or Eminem you know what I mean. Nothing against those artists; just need to keep it age and maturity appropriate.

Each week I would pick a different Christian artist, present the lyrics, watch the music video, discuss its themes, and write about what it means to each student. That first year I played a lot of Newsboys, Casting Crowns, and TobyMac.

Funny thing happens when you design and teach your class lessons: you start learning more from them yourself.

I started adding many of these Songs of the Week to my training playlist. And so often during a run, I would remember how a song affected my class, or essays students wrote about a song theme. I still remember something a former student (now eighth grader) wrote in response to a TobyMac song. It was something like “I don’t have to let mistakes or failures get me down. I can leave all that behind and press on for what God has in front of me.” And this favorite quote from a student essay:

“Okay, when I can’t go another step, I just pray and say ‘”switching over to God-booster-rockets!”‘

Yeah, all that from a song.

And then there was my San Francisco Marathon PR. I typically don’t race with headphones, so I rely heavily on carbo-loading on God’s Word (after all, Jesus is the Bread of Life) and those songs that are literally stuck in my head. For most of the 2013 SF Marathon, one song’s lyrics kept replaying in my head. I don’t even remember the title, but we sang it in Chapel just a few weeks prior. It was “Love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and all your strength.” Plain and simple. It was actually the perfect cadence, too. That was the race immediately following Natalie’s high school graduation and some other very emotional events that year. This song running through my mind during the weakest point of that marathon made all the difference.

Of course, Jesus is the best example of teaching object lessons and keeping lessons fresh. This song – based on 2 Timothy 4:7 – got me to the finish line of this year’s SF Marathon a few weeks ago:

If you google motivational running quotes, you’ll find at the top of the list: “Run the first two-thirds of the race with your head and the last third with your heart.” (author unknown) It’s also been said that the second half of a marathon starts at mile 20.

All this to say, I still have “Don’t Stop Believin'” on my playlist. I have graduated to an iPod Shuffle since I refuse to carry anything bigger or heavier during a run. And I now choose songs that meet three simple criteria:

Will it keep me moving forward? Would I be willing to share it with a friend? Do I like it?

What’s my current fave song for running? It just so happens to also be my fave song…for this season of life:

Chapter Twelve

“Slow Twitch vs. Fast Twitch”

July 17, 2015 itang5@icloud.com Leave a comment

I have never considered myself technically savvy when it comes to running mechanics. But recently, the difference between slow and fast twitch muscles finally dawned on me.

I love running the Upper Rim Trail at Lafayette Reservoir for many soul-filling reasons as well as training purposes. Tuesday I went for a mind-clearing, post-ultramarathon “shake-out run.” I had just run 27 miles on Saturday in an event called Dirty (Half) Dozen in which runners go as many miles as they choose for six or twelve hours. Any distance over 26.2 earns you the title of ultramarathoner. My goal was to also earn bragging rights to my fourth lifetime 50K (31.06 miles); but as temperatures rose higher than forecasted and feet hurt more than expected, my goal was to just get into that ultra category…even if it was by a hair.

Funny that it would take six hours to run a distance slightly more than marathon distance when my marathon PR is 4:13. My family made this comment a few years ago when I set out to do my first 50K. The goal was to finish in under eight hours.

“But it’s not like you’re running twice the distance? It’s only five more miles.” So they said.

But I get it; I wouldn’t have understood either if I had never run a course with over 8,000 feet of elevation change.

So, the strategy last Saturday was slow and steady. I can hear my friend and running coach Sandie’s voice right now: “Slow and steady wins the race!” She herself has run Boston which means she’s not exactly slow and does know a thing or two about getting the job done when it comes to running.

As I have run with Sandie many times over the years on the trails and on the road, it has also allowed me the opportunity to meet runners of all walks (no pun intended) of life. I’ve become Facebook friends with many of them, so I get to read posts weekly and daily about their events, training, and progress.

Can I just admit right now that I cringe at the sight of a track workout?

One look at that reddish-orange polyurethane, white-lined torture field sends me running the other direction. When I see that my running friends are doing sprints and plyometrics, it’s as if I’m back in fourth grade again finishing almost dead last in P.E.

As I am eight days out from running my seventh San Francisco Marathon (and marathon #31), every run from now until race day has magnified purpose. Saturday’s race was my long run. This week I am trying to stay loose and focused on intensity versus distance. I have read that hill training simulates speed work. Great! Any excuse to not hit the track or do actual speed work. I do truly love trail running, so when I read that little training gem, I hit the trails with even more of a vengeance.

However, this week I realized I have been doing it all wrong and not taking full advantage of those hills.

I started out saying that I love running the Upper Rim Trail. I love it even more after Tuesday’s revelation. As I started up the first big hill at a very conservative – okay slow – pace, I started to think that this might be a very long, painful run. When it leveled off, I mentally geared up for the next hill by justifying walking it since I was still recovering from Saturday’s 27 miler. I felt surprisingly good running a decent pace on the flats; so when the hill came, I maintained the effort level with high knees and shorter strides. I remembered an article I had just read – okay scoffed at – on plyometric exercises. Since I felt good, I decided to increase my intensity and went all out until reaching the peak of this hill.

Wait, did I just do plyometrics?!

I visualized the photos and diagrams from the article on runner form and repeats of specific exercises to engage more power and “quick, explosive” movements aka fast twitch muscles. Once it leveled out again, I kept a steady pace then geared up for another hill and using those fast twitch muscles.

Many times before, I trudged aimlessly up these hills with the only goal being to not fall over or lose consciousness. These same hills that have often been my nemesis were now my allies. I actually felt really, really good! But how can this be since I should still be in great pain from 27 long, slow miles just two days prior? I wasn’t exactly running on fresh legs. Or maybe just certain fresh muscle groups. I realized I had predominantly used slow twitch muscles for 27 miles and hardly any fast twitch. Those slow twitch muscles (long distance, endurance, oxygen happy muscles) have seen a lot of mileage this last year.

As I analyze my training and last few marathons, I have to be honest with myself about why they have not been anywhere close to my PR. My disdain for speed work or repetitive drills has caught up to me. I had even consoled myself in saying that it’s okay if I never reach my once passionate dream of Boston qualifying or even getting close to sub-4 hours.

Maybe I was just feeling my age – I am almost fifty. Maybe 4:13 was my peak.

God’s timing and coaching never ceases to amaze me. Last week I received a special little package in the mail. It was from a former kindergarten student of mine and one with whom I had the pleasure of running several 5Ks.

Anora is now a big sixth grader living in Houston after her mom’s job transfer. We’ve kept in touch through Facebook which allowed me to see how she continued to win age group medals and excel in other events. My little package from Anora was none other than a pair of lime green shoe wings.

Purely for fun and decor, these shWings made my day! I couldn’t wait to put them on my new trail shoes that I just bought for Dirty Dozen. I was so touched by Anora’s thoughtfulness and posted a picture of the shWings on Facebook.

My lime green running buddy in Indiana saw the post and reminded me of who else gives us wings:

“…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.”

Isaiah 40:31 and those lime green shoe wings saw me through a six hour endurance race last weekend. But they also helped me better understand the relationship between slow and fast twitch muscles.

I always wondered why in that verse God would say “RUN and not grow weary” followed by “WALK and not be faint.” Why not just say RUN? Wouldn’t that have made the same point?

I believe God is illustrating the point that there are times I need to exercise slow twitch and fast twitch muscles to grow my faith in running His race. The slow twitch muscles are necessary for enduring and persevering through some of life’s longer, protracted, can’t-see-the-light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel seasons. The fast twitch muscles are necessary for situations that require immediate action, quick decisions, and ASAP responses.

I can see over the course of my adult life the many seasons and situations God has allowed – even orchestrated – to develop both of these muscle groups. I see how He doesn’t want me to go into this next season unprepared.

The “course map” for this season shows some hills. These hills have names like career change depression, empty nest anticipation, and my mom’s dementia-care frustration…just to name a few.

These seasons are like marathons, only I didn’t sign up for them.

Then there are the situations in which I don’t have time to research, seek counsel, cry myself to sleep over, and pray about for years…and years. These situations usually start with someone saying “Mom, I need….” Or “Irene, we should…” Or “We need to…now.” They even take the form of spur of the moment prayers like when I passed a horrible accident on the freeway yesterday; I said a quick prayer for the victims as I passed. They needed immediate life-saving intervention.

God has equipped us to handle all of this.

To run marathons and sprint distances well requires different types of training – and lots of it. I can’t ignore or pick and choose the ones I want any more than I can decide to ignore frustrating calls from my dad about my mom’s dementia.

I may never win any 5Ks or qualify for the Boston Marathon, but the results of proper, balanced training for both types of races will certainly yield a stronger and more content lifelong runner. My most satisfying races have not been about finish times.

They were about how I got through those moments when I wanted to give up. They were about renewed hope. And eventually soaring.

Chapter Eleven

“Are We Having Fun Yet?”

June 14, 2015 itang5@icloud.com Leave a comment

I’ve had more fun the last six races than I’ve had in perhaps the last six years.

Let me preface everything I’m about to say by stating that I’ve had some tremendously God-inspired-hard-core-lessons learned, “come to Jesus” race experiences; but what I’m talking about today is the recent realization that I haven’t allowed myself to actually have fun during alot of my races.

I’m picturing my husband shaking his head reading this as he could never imagine uttering the words “fun” and “running” in the same sentence. But, I digress.

When I look back at my first blog posts, well, I feel like I took myself way too seriously. Hold on…I’m not at all trying to discount all the ways God has taught me more about Himself through running. I just feel like I’ve been missing out on something. Why do I have to make everything a lesson? Why have I not stuck to my initial goal of blogging monthly? Why are my posts so dang long?

I can’t keep blaming the teacher part of me. Or writer’s block. Or my need to explain myself.

One of the best things that resulted from this April’s Carmel Marathon was meeting my new friend Julie who is a fellow Christian runner, lime green fanatic, mother of a college age daughter, cancer survivor, and blogger.

Julie has become a huge inspiration to me especially at 3:45 am when she’s headed out to the YMCA to volunteer and swim laps.

With the three hour Indiana time difference, my day has often started with a text from Julie at 3:45 am with a word of encouragement or prayer for my day.

Julie and her friend Laurie are headed to Alaska this weekend to run the Team in Training Anchorage Half Marathon to benefit leukemia and lymphoma patients. Julie also has a goal to run a race in all fifty states. She’s already run in San Francisco, but I’m working on convincing her to come out for another race (California’s so big, it should count as two states, right?)

La Jolla Half Marathon was not originally my idea. For once, I can’t take the credit for dragging others to a race.

Natalie’s swim team buddy, Megan, registered then convinced both of us to do it. I was flying down for their team awards banquet that weekend anyway, so figured, why not. Meagan also flew down with me, and it ended up being a good mom-daughters weekend. The course itself did not disappoint. I mean, come on, it’s La Jolla! Turning the corner at mile 5 to see the Pacific Ocean and beach just steps away was quite breath taking. The climb up to Torrey Pines was also breath taking but for different reasons. I loved seeing the post-race photos of Megan, Natalie, and I mid-stride with looks of anguish as we trudged our way up this seemingly neverending hill. (*Don’t let my smile deceive you; over a hundred races has conditioned me to muster any semblance of a smile until passing the photographer.)

But we survived, took our requisite finish line photos, muttered some choice adjectives about that hill climb, and painfully hobbled into the awards banquet in high heels hours later.

Western Pacific has not been my (or anyone I know) favorite marathon course. The past four years, it’s been perfect timing as a long training run for upcoming marathons. But it’s the flattest, most unscenic, hot weather marathon.

Misery loves company is the only reason I can come up with for having convinced my friend Lori to run it with me this year.

I cleverly sold her on the idea since it was also perfect timing with our M2B Marathon exactly three weeks out. The whole week prior to the race, weather forecasts were not encouraging. (90 degrees… Really?) We’d text each other multiple times a day as we saw even one degree shifts in the forecast. And the big dilemna: what to wear on race day with the heat. We carpooled to the race together. Ran parts of it together.

And could celebrate and commiserate afterward together.

Wildcat Half Marathon holds a special place in my heart since it was this race four years ago that I dedicated to good friend and former principal Jeri Schall. Her pancreatic cancer diagnosis came as a shock to everyone in our school community.

I remember reaching the Mile 11 hill after several other arduous hills and praying for Jeri’s “climb” which quickly ended just four weeks after her diagnosis.

I usually spend a good deal of any race with my head immersed in prayers or just chatting it up with Jesus. Depending on the degree of suffering I’m in, the chats often turn into cries of desperation begging for His return to come now.

At last month’s Wildcat race, I also got to chat with some new and old friends along the way. Thank goodness, because I was still recovering from Western Pacific and their company really helped take my mind off of the hills and my toe blisters. I looked forward to a big hug from Elena at the start line since it took years to finally meet her after going toe to toe in Brazen age group rankings. I almost never stop to take photos during races (I don’t even bring my phone). But this race, I’m glad Candise and I took a nice scenic selfie at the peak. I met Jennifer at mile 9. Jen made me laugh as we exchanged teenage daughter drama. Sorry, Meagan.

Mountains2Beach Marathon ended up being a mother-daughter-sister weekend. It was also my combined Christmas and birthday presents to Sandy (hotel and half marathon registration). I mean, c’mon, who wouldn’t want to spend months training then running 13.1 miles for their birthday? Yes, I see your hand, Dave.

The three of us drove down to Ventura Beach over Memorial weekend. We also met up with Lori who had run the half last year and suffered through 26.2 miles at Western Pacific with me just three weeks prior. Actually, Lori rocked WP. Me, not so much.

So, here we were. Each with slightly different race goals but all to enjoy a gorgeous weekend and time together.

Even though we didn’t technically run together, when we saw each other post-race at the finish area, it felt like we did. Exchanging “battle” stories, comparing blisters, relating to pacing struggles and knee pains… Hard to believe just hours earlier we were fresh-legged and full of anticipation and PR hopes…now just thankful to be done!

TrailQuake Half Marathon, affectionately nicknamed Slugatoga, has become one of my favorite trail race courses. Before launching into my race recap, I have to say how grateful I am to have discovered this thing called trail racing through an awesome race organization called Brazen Racing.

It is through Brazen that I have run on some of the most picturesque, breathtaking courses in California.

Slugatoga, aptly named for its famed banana slugs and Saratoga location, is a race course almost completely canopied by majestic redwoods. But where there’s thousands of massive, really old trees, there’s bound to be lots of really hazardous tree roots…and rocks. This was the adventure for and to which my Brazen friends and I signed up and carpooled. There truly is nothing like trudging up the first three miles alongside old and new Brazen friends like Mike, Kirstin, Ashwin, Jen, Mickey, Yoly, and Katherine – just to name a few.

Even better is when they’re smokin’ fast and high-fiving me on the turn arounds back! But the best part is being reunited at the finish area after they’ve cheered me on and then I get to return the favor by cheering others on as they cross the finish line.

I don’t usually stick around to see the last runner finish, but since I had carpooled with Mike, gunning for Brazen Streaker fame and one of the friendliest and most encouraging runners I know, of course, we stayed until the end. TrailQuake was one of the smallest races I’ve run; but somehow this year’s Slugatoga left the biggest footprint on my running soul.

All this to say, God is teaching me a new way to run the race He has set before me.

Instead of being so PR obsessed, I need to look up from my Garmin every now and then and just enjoy ALL of God’s magnificent creation – especially the human ones. What made these last six races so fun? They were each more about the people than the race itself.

Chapter Ten

“Performance Evaluations and Job Interviews”

April 21, 2015 itang5@icloud.com Leave a comment

Recently, I sat down with each of my store employees to go over sample blank performance evaluations. The purpose was to help familiarize new employees with job expectations early on so that when the real evaluation time came, there would be no surprises. Some of them still looked nervous. I don’t know why since I’m just about the most unintimidating person I know. Ha, ha.

The mere thought of being evaluated by another human being strikes fear in most people.

Similarly, most folks get a little nervous when it comes to job interviews. I haven’t been the interviewee in over a decade, but I remember going into interviews with some level of anxiety even though I was prepared and confident in my qualifications. Now that I am on the other side of the desk as the interviewer, I still get nervous. Why? After all, I’m not the one needing the job. Exactly.

When I think about the times I have interviewed for various positions, I know how much certain jobs have meant to me and had the potential for changing the course of my life – and the lives of my family members. When I interview candidates, it is important to me that I get the best and truest representation of who they are during our short time together. To that end, I have to do MY part in communicating who we are as a company, our product, job expectations, and potential for growth. I have to “sell” them on why they would want to work for me.

It just occurred to me that I didn’t exactly interview for THIS position. If you had told me a year ago I would be a business owner of a growing company in a different part of the country, I might have questioned your grasp of reality.

So, here I am two months after the store’s Grand Opening, 25 new employees, Southwest Rapid Rewards points at their highest, as well as six full and half marathons completed – all in this first quarter of 2015. It was about time for my own quarterly performance evaluation – only I wasn’t expecting it.

On this particular day, God called me into His office while I was running up a hill at one of my favorite regular spots – the Upper Rim Trail at Lafayette Reservoir.

I’ve said before that I often run to clear my head and “get real” with God. It’s just Him and me whether it’s on the trails or on the road. No cell phone. No Facebook. Everything said is held in the strictest confidentiality.

This first quarter of 2015 has been a mental and emotional roller coaster with exhilarating descents as well as climbs leaving me wondering where’s the top and what’s around the next turn. As a new business owner of a store three time zones away, my OCD nature is often gripping onto the safety harness with white knuckles. Balancing family life, traveling, and business is unchartered territory for me. Why has this first quarter been such a surprising ride?

A friend of mine offered the analogy that for the past ten years I’ve been working in a “cocoon” of sorts. Cocoon? Meaning I’ve been sheltered, or that huge transformation was on the horizon, or that I’ve just emerged from the chrysalis and am learning to use my wings?

I was also told recently by a family member that I over think – often trying too hard to assign purpose to every little thing. As a teacher, I have spent the past four years enthusiastically, passionately trying to teach third graders how to navigate their eight year old lives as if they were on a race course. I could liken any situation they came across to Bible verses that referenced perseverance, endurance, pressing on, discipline, and winning.

I loved seeing kids make those personal connections. I got to go to work each day knowing I was not only a teacher, but a coach and a cheerleader. It was a very special time in my life. And one with which I grew very comfortable.

Taking that step of faith to leave “my happy place” aka comfort zone was the hardest decision I have ever made. I didn’t realize how much I depended on the structure and predictability of a daily classroom routine.

As much as teachers may loathe writing objectives and standards into EVERY single lesson plan and activity, it is a built-in checks and balance system for keeping our focus on student learning, pace, and the master plan that leads to 24 little ones graduating from your class 180 days later.

Wait. Did I just confess that I miss writing objectives and standards in lesson plans?? This confession must not leave this room. It must remain in my confidential personnel file only to be released at a time mutually agreed upon by my Employer and myself. Well, that time is now.

I started writing this blog in my head on a trail run a few weeks ago when my Employer called me into His office.

My evaluation took on the standard “sandwich” format with areas of improvement sandwiched between encouragement and strengths. I was encouraged by His Creation that day as it was perfect running weather and clear skies revealed nearby Mt. Diablo in all its splendor.

I was strengthened as He reminded me of His Word encouraging me to “press on” and keep my eyes fixed on the ultimate prize. I felt really good and strong that day on those hills and was reminded of His healing nature since I was recovering from the Napa and Oakland Marathons in March. My last business trip was fruitful which reminded me He is my Provider as long as I choose to abide in Him. (John 15:5) He was pleased with my seeking Him in new ways.

And then came the “needs improvement” part of the evaluation…

As I ran up the next hill on that beautiful day, He let me know that He wanted me to NOT be such an “adrenaline junkie.”

Everyone knows you get a certain rush and high from running – especially if you happen to PR. What could be bad about that, I argued back. But running is healthy and it’s been a driving force in building my confidence and seeing the parallels in life with what the Apostle Paul called “running God’s race!” Ah, yes. And for that He has been pleased.

However, He showed me that I’ve been selectively choosing the areas in my life that I wanted to apply those “cool” verses about running.

Last year I read the book Run to Overcome by 2014 Boston Marathon winner Meb Keflezighi. One of his favorite verses is also mine:

“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.” 1Corinthians 9:24 NIV

Another translation says “Run to win!” Who wouldn’t love that verse or make it their running mantra?! But the passage doesn’t end there. It goes on to say:

“Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly.” 1Corinthians 9:25-26 NIV

And this is where my first quarter evaluation ended. I realized I had stopped living with daily objectives and standards in my lesson plans. I allowed myself to go with the flow of the new business and my race schedule – it felt like I was running aimlessly. It was dictating how I defined success and my identity – which was great when things went well. It’s great to see your employees doing what they’re supposed to be doing, getting awesome Yelp reviews, generating higher daily sales figures, etc. It’s great to finish a race and hang another medal on my wall. Adrenaline rush material.

Instead of living from one business trip to the next OR from one race to another, I need to be very intentional about each day – even each moment. In the classroom, I became quite good at seeing everything that came my way as teaching opportunities for my students. Now my classroom looks different, and I am more of a student than a teacher as I am learning to live life outside the cocoon. I had always encouraged my students to look for ways to shine for Jesus outside the classroom. But as a teacher in a Christian school, isn’t that “expected?” I’m learning that I now need to be more intentional in being God’s example in unexpected places.

My Employer encouraged me to continue to hope in Him; to allow Him to renew my strength…to make Isaiah 40:31 the daily objective, and not just for races. To remember He is the standard for success.

I want so much to run with Him; but sometimes I forget that I need to walk daily with Him first. He promises that I can soar on wings like eagles… Or, perhaps, like butterflies that have just emerged from their cocoons.

Chapter Nine

“I Hate Taper Week!”

February 20, 2015 itang5@icloud.com Leave a comment

I hate taper week. The week leading up to a marathon is just no fun. It doesn’t matter how well or how poorly I have trained the weeks and months prior; taper week for me is riddled with self-doubt and feeling fat.

My marathon training is the typical combination of long runs, shorter speed runs, some hill work, and rest days. The night before long runs are reserved for pasta and “Say Yes to the Dress” TV marathons with my feet up. I have come to enjoy the anticipation of and preparation for my 18-21 mile runs. These long runs are where I often gain clarity on the stuff that’s been brewing during the week and the constant battle going on in that space between my ears.

On my last long run a couple of weeks ago, Mile 16 took me up a gradual hill. I’ve run this same route many times before; but on this particular morning, I was reminded of a TV commercial that made me laugh out loud. A silly scenario where the advertiser was instructing his “student” on how to properly and convincingly pronounce the word “nine” since the whole commercial was promoting the new low rate of $9.99. The student repeated “nine” several times with the same intonations until the instructor began to show frustration with his attempts and said “Commit!” The student said “nine” again in the same exact manner.

“Commit!”

I looked at the hill before me that has, at times, been my nemesis. I also remembered coaching a friend on a hill run recently and telling her she needed to decide BEFORE getting to the hill if she was going to commit to running to the top non-stop. At that moment, mid-stride, I looked at my nemesis and committed to running up that hill – no matter how I felt half way or near the top.

Various thoughts cross my mind on hills. Everything from what I ate for dinner last night, breathing posture, favorite songs, high knee lifts, when and IF this hill will ever end… which leads to the most frequent topic to cross my mind on tough hills – Jesus’ journey up that final hill to His crucifixion. Yeah, that’s as extreme of a hill as they come.

I can’t think of any better inspiration for enduring and persevering up an excruciating hill or, for that matter, any tough circumstance life throws in front of me.

Christ’s crucifixion represents the crucifying of all that is counter to God’s holiness. To crucify Jesus’ flesh on the cross was to crucify the sins common to all men and women. On many hills runs, I actually picture Jesus carrying His cross in agony, never wavering, never doubting He would complete His task, never a thought of quitting half way, never leaving His commitment to make it up that hill… for me.

But on this particular day, I thought about specific sins I frequently struggle with like pride, laziness, judging others, and complacency (to name a few).

As I made my way up the hill, I asked God to “crucify” each one of those sins. Sure, I’ve asked time and time again for forgiveness when these sins reared their ugly heads; but maybe it had been awhile and was now weighing me down in ways I didn’t realize. Believe it or not, as I ran up this hill, I noticed more strength and energy with each step. When I reached the peak, I was amazed how light I felt – as if I was on wings. Sounds a lot like God’s promise in Isaiah 40:30-31:

“Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; ³¹but 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.”

Needless to say, this was a memorable long run. It’s easy to bask in the glory of any good run for awhile, but when it’s combined with a crystal clear object lesson from God Himself…

So, that was two weeks ago. I am now tapering for my fourth Napa Valley Marathon which will also be marathon #26. Tomorrow’s run will consist of an 8 miler at Lafayette Reservoir with gently rolling hills. Next week I will run two “easy” 3 milers – my LEAST favorite runs – and try to stay loose. And then race day is Sunday.

My mind during taper weeks is like point-to-point courses: very linear. I don’t allow myself to enjoy the view, relax, stretch, or make adjustments in food consumption with the decrease in mileage (thus the “feeling fat”). I realize all this needs to change, but realizing and doing are very different destinations.

Taper week is when I feel most out of control of my circumstances. And if you read my last blog post, you know that OCD is my middle name.

It’s somewhat ironic that my most memorable races have NOT been my best finish times; but they have been characterized as the intersection of relinquishing control of what I am prepared to do and running with the mindset that every step is a chance to honor God.

Perhaps this week I will choose that mindset as I taper for Napa. Wait, no…not “perhaps.” Commit!

And this fave verse that I used to tell my third grade students to help replace negative thoughts:

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” Philippians 4:8 NIV

Chapter Eight

“Keep Pressing On…Eye on the Dream”

January 17, 2015 itang5@icloud.com Leave a comment

It feels like a long time since my last post. I’ve been waiting for big news, a life changing event, or at the very least – new marathon PR to post on my blog. Then this morning I read Captain Sully Sullenberger’s latest post to his blog on the anniversary of the miracle of Flight 1549. This week I also read about the birth of a running friend’s second child who came on his due date born of a mother who ran a 5K PR just a few weeks prior and an 8 minute mile at the end of a run…six days before giving birth.

As I thought about what I should blog about, I can’t help but reflect on what I was doing a year ago today. Being Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birthday month, I was in the middle of teaching one of my favorite units in third grade. I was thankful for the long weekend granted to us as a result of MLK’s profound impact on our nation; but as a teacher, I was grateful for the windows of discussion his life accomplishments opened up in the classroom.

This year with MLK day around the corner and missing a classroom full of kids writing their own “I Have a Dream” essays and crossword puzzles, I confess I am feeling a bit lost…without a dream. When I left teaching last August, I didn’t realize how much being a teacher was part of my identity. True, it was MY decision and one of the toughest I have ever made to start a new chapter in my life without knowing what this would even entail.

But these last few months have been a pendulum of emotions and re-defining self-worth.

I’m actually having a hard time changing my employment status on my Facebook page even though I have been abundantly blessed with an exciting new business venture. I really should change my status…

On my long run yesterday, as well as many runs recently, I have been brought to tears mid-run as God often uses these times to remind me who’s in control and who’s got my back…and who doesn’t care what my Facebook status says.

I’ve almost always characterized myself as OCD, and have even taken a certain amount of pride in doing so. I’ve realized over the last few months that this is really nothing to be proud of, and in fact, is something to which God has been gently shaking His almighty head.

I’ve thought a lot lately about the example of Moses in the Old Testament and all his accomplishments as well as shortcomings. After all, the poor guy didn’t get to see the Promised Land due to one little act of disobedience. NOW who’s being OCD?! I guess when you’re the Creator of the Universe, you’re allowed to be OCD. But here’s the thing:

God is OCD about me. Only the “D” is not a disorder but it’s His Design.

His OCD reassures me that when I am feeling like I no longer have consistent structure in my day, when I can’t rely on a paycheck on the 1st and 16th every month, when people ask me what I do all day now, and when I don’t get to tell those around me exactly how to line up for recess and how to properly place punctuation, God is reminding me to let Him do the OCD-ing.

The flip side of this OCD lesson is the realization that I am not exactly OCD when it comes to obeying God. Again, Moses comes to mind (speak, don’t strike…easier said than done). My husband has been self-employed pretty much the entire 29 years I have known him. I always said “I could NEVER be self-employed!” It’s only been a few months, but I’m finding now that I am also self-employed that some days I would rather strike than speak and that the journey is not unlike running a marathon. More than ever, I see how important it is to keep my “eye on the prize.”

“I’m not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don’t get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I’ve got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I’m off and running, and I’m not turning back.” Philippians 3:12-14 (MSG)

So, as far as blog posts go, this is probably not gonna be ranked as one of my most exciting or intriguing. No medals to show off, race destinations to be envious of, or carbo load dinners to drool over. I just wanted to share that part of my journey that is much like miles 12 to 16 in a marathon – nothing to brag about, nothing spectacular accomplished, not even close to the finish line, but staying on course hoping to encourage some folks along the way.

Chapter Seven

“Semper Fi…Always Faithful”

November 2, 2014 itang5@icloud.com Leave a comment

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 14^th 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 23^rd, 1945 that Marines of Company E, 2^nd 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 3^rd 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.

Chapter Six

“I Am Parker…Hear Me Roar!”

October 14, 2014 itang5@icloud.com Leave a comment

Inspiration can come from anywhere, anything, anyone.

And when you least expect it. To say that our family loves Cal football would be a mild understatement. When your husband’s Fantasy Football team name is “Rose Bowl Before I Die,” you pretty much know where you will be spending all of your fall Saturday’s for the rest of your life. You also know that there are only two seasons in a year: football and waiting-for-football.

You’d think that after last year’s disappointing season (1-11) especially the way it ended at Stanford Stadium, Dave and his brother would have checked themselves into a therapy group.

“My name is Dave, and I am a Cal football-aholic.”

Last year when watching the games became painful at times, it was more entertaining to just watch Dave and Ed’s reactions and analyses. I will say that after 26 years of marriage, Dave now recovers quicker from tough losses than he did when we first got married. Perhaps it comes from maturity.

Perhaps it is an intestinal fortitude that develops from being devoted to a team that has seen more ups and downs than a roller coaster.

That is one thing I admire about my husband – his dedication to his team. Maybe it started when his dad took him to games as a seven year old – one of Dave’s cherished childhood memories. And then there was the Big Game in 1982 – the one with The Play. Yes, THE play. Dave’s dedication just kept growing after witnessing football legacy being born.

Of course, our first date was a Cal game. Oh, and he did propose after a Cal game, too.

So, here we are six weeks into the 2014 season. Dave and Meagan had enjoyed a nice father-daughter road trip to the Cal vs. Northwestern season opener – a nail biting victory for Cal. Well, you can bet that no one in our family has any nails left since three of the last five games have come down to the final seconds and a double overtime. We went into last Saturday’s Cal vs. Washington game with cautious optimism because anything can and has happened at Cal games. That optimism quickly faded with a couple of costly fumbles first quarter. But there’s always hope. A lot can happen with three quarters left.

No one was happier to see the first quarter end than Cal fans and my five year old nephew Parker. Upon arriving at Memorial Stadium, we happened to be greeted by members of the Bank of the West Bear Growl contest. They spotted Parker in his Cal #21 (Keenan Allen) jersey and asked if he’d be interested in entering the contest during the game which would involve three kids roaring their way to a gigantic plush bear if fans decided their roar was the fiercest.

Funny, we had just been talking about how cool it would be to get Parker onto the field for this contest. Interested? Uh, yeah!

At the end of first quarter, Parker, Ed, and Dave made their way down to the field. The Bear Growl committee led Parker and two little girls onto the field then introduced all three to the 50,000 fans in the stadium. Each child had one chance to roar his or her best roar into the microphone then the winner would be decided by fan applause. As Parker’s aunt, I felt it was my duty before the game to coach him on his roaring skills. I got out my iPhone and timed his first roar. Six seconds. Hmm, that’s not gonna cut it. I told him he was gonna need to hold that roar longer if he was gonna win that bear. I had heard other kids’ roars at previous games. The winning roars were loud and long. We practiced several more times. Was this gonna be enough? Did he have what it takes?

My competitive juices were flowing and auntie pride was bursting as the announcer handed Parker the mic. And then my little five year old nephew let out the longest, fiercest roar that ever shook the city of Berkeley. Those two little girls didn’t hold a candle to Parker Tang that day. The bear was his.

Minutes later, father, son, and uncle made their way back to our seats with this stuffed bear that was bigger than Parker himself. Along the way, fans high-fived Parker and congratulated him on a roar well done. For the remaining three quarters of the game, I just enjoyed watching my nephew’s simple, humble, carefree joy as he sat in his seat coloring, playing an iPad game, and petting his new stuffed bear.

I guess Washington scored a few more times than we did…okay, a lot more times. Losing to them didn’t bother me as much as losing to some other teams because two of my dear Huskie friends crossed over enemy territory to pay me a visit at half time. Their friendship and journey of faith has inspired and encouraged me often these last few years. When something brings your friends joy, you can’t help but be happy for them.

I don’t remember exactly how the rest of the game played out. I just remember that Dave and Ed didn’t seem as distraught by the loss as with previous losses of lesser magnitude. We walked out of the stadium taking turns either holding Parker’s hand or the giant bear (it was quite heavy and cumbersome). Fans continued to congratulate Parker. People just looked happy when they saw little Parker and his bear – even Washington fans. Walking down Bancroft to our car, I heard “Hey, that’s the kid who won the bear!” I even heard people chanting “Par-ker! Par-ker!” I don’t think I’ve ever seen my brother-in-law as proud (with exception to his daughter’s debut in “Shrek, The Musical” and his wedding day, of course).

The following morning I got up extra early to read my Bible devotional (by Oswald Chambers) before the annual San Ramon Valley “Run for Education” half marathon. I usually like to get to my race destinations early so I can get in some time for God’s Word and get “prayed up.”

It’s amazing to me how often that “Word time” fuels me when I need it most during races.

Sunday’s half marathon pre-race Word was about seeing God’s glory in the ordinary. To do so, I have to learn to stay in stride with Him, to find His pace. The verse that went with this devotional was not the typical “pump you up” or “do the impossible” runners’ verse. It was simply

“Enoch walked with God…” (Genesis 5:24)

When I think about staying in stride with God or in His footsteps, I always remember when I was five years old and trying to walk alongside my dad. I just had to stay in step with him for fear of lagging behind (then I would miss parts of his amazing stories) or running up ahead would mean I might get lost because I didn’t know where we were going. I would have to take giant strides to be able to keep up which lasted only a few steps. I gave up pretty quickly because it was really tiring to try to maintain that stride and pace as a five year old.

I didn’t grow up in a church-going household or one that knew anything about the Bible much less walking with God. It wasn’t until my dad brought our family to church my sophomore year of high school that I learned what it meant to have a relationship with Jesus. But it wasn’t until I started running six years ago that I learned what it meant to walk with Him.

This past Sunday’s half marathon was the warmest it’s been since I first ran it in 2009. As I might have mentioned in Chapter One, warm weather races and I are not exactly simpatico. So, I began the race saying my version of Psalm 1:3

“In this heat, I will not wither!”

As my Garmin beeped at Mile 1, I looked to see that I was ten seconds faster than my goal pace. Slow down. Don’t go out too fast like you did last year! I remembered the devotional I had just read that morning and started praying “Lord, guide my stride, pace my race.” Next few miles were right on goal pace. I’ve probably prayed that same prayer hundreds of times in previous races.

On this day, as I ran past several elementary schools, I felt prompted to pray for each school and schools in general. What does this have to do with stride and pace?

Back to Enoch… He walked faithfully with God…until he was 365 years old (a youngin’ considering his son was Methuselah who lived to be 969). How does one walk faithfully with God for 365 years? I haven’t gone 365 days without times of wavering, doubt, pride, disobedience, and self-reliance. I’m no theologian, but maybe that’s why some folks in the Old Testament lived so long – they never went off course, off stride, or off pace with God.

As I continued to run and pray for the schools I passed by, I began to see that this is what was on God’s heart and what He wanted to show me that morning.

How many times have I run past these schools without a thought? Maybe all those other times God wanted me to pray and I missed out because I was so focused on my own problems, goals, pace, and stride.

How many other opportunities have I missed out on?

One of the cool things about running a lot of races is being able to say you’ve run a lot of races. But how many of those are truly memorable or reveal hidden “gems of truth” along the way? Sure, there might be a medal or shirt to remind you it happened. And of course, your finish time – good or bad – is now recorded for posterity.

My most memorable races are now the ones in which I ran in close stride with Jesus.

Because I kept pace with Him, I got to see and hear things along the way that I otherwise would have missed out on. When I feel inspired, I just naturally want to inspire others. I finished the last mile of Sunday’s race looking for runners who needed a little encouragement. A simple “Way to go! Finish strong!” or “C’mon, you got this!” goes a long way sometimes.

When I’m only focused on my own goals, it’s never as enjoyable.

I will remember this year’s Run for Education half marathon as the race my running Coach taught me the rewards of stride and pace.

I’ve lost count of how many Cal games I’ve attended just like I’ve lost count of how many races I’ve run. Years from now, I probably won’t remember all my race finish times or the score of last weekend’s Cal game. I might not even remember who won. But I will remember Parker’s roar and the joy it brought to so many – myself included.

I love the picture of my Heavenly Father walking with me…my hand in one of His and my prize in the other.

Running God's Race

“Training for the Valleys”

“Teaching vs. Unlearning”

“What’s in a Song?”

“Slow Twitch vs. Fast Twitch”

“Are We Having Fun Yet?”

“Performance Evaluations and Job Interviews”

“I Hate Taper Week!”

“Keep Pressing On…Eye on the Dream”

“Semper Fi…Always Faithful”

“I Am Parker…Hear Me Roar!”

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