Yesterday, I wrote about two important lessons I learned during marathon training last year, but I left you in suspense about the third important truth...
On this Sunday morning a year ago, Rachel and I hesitantly navigated our way through the Metrodome. We were surrounded by the quiet buzz of fellow insane marathons stretching, cuing up their marathon playlist, securing their ponytails just one last time, and obviously taking that pre-marathon selfie. As we approached the gates, we were surrounded by hoards of such marathoners, and I wondered, not for the first time, why so many thousands of us were idiotic enough to pay for this pain!
Marathons start small…with a certain amount of bravado, but also with a quiet intensity of knowing that the next four hours will be spent running…just running. The gun with off, and took a deep breath to begin. For the first 6 miles, Rachel and I ran at a good clip, weaving in and out of the runners who were going slower than we wanted. “9 minute miles?” we would ask each other… “We’re doing good.”
...Mile 7. We realized that we had been running for an hour already…and had about 3 hours
left. A quiet focus began to settle into our pace, our conversation, and the runners around us.
We were in this for the long haul. No going back. And by the time we hit mile 13, the reality
was that we had already been running for 2 hours, and we were only half done. This was
getting harder...but we were in this together. We needed each other.
...Mile 16. It got really hard. Rachel started to feel some leg pain, and we needed to decide
what to do. “Go ahead without me,” she said. But I wasn’t about to leave her…she had made
me sign up for this, and we weren’t stopping! So I encouraged her, she kept moving, and we
stayed together. She needed me.
...Mile 17. I was done. I was in pain. I was hurting. I hated that we were still running a
marathon, and I was supremely jealous of all the spectators we were passing who were
huddled up in cozy sweaters and cute boots and for the love of pete, Starbucks. I desperately
wanted to stop. I wanted to be done. But Rachel was there, and this time, she encouraged
me, and she wouldn’t let me quit. I needed her.
...Mile 20. I hated my life even more. I told Rachel to keep going without me. She said no,
and she encouraged me even more. She needed me.
...Mile 21. Rachel hated her life and told me to go ahead without her. I told her no way…if I
split up from her, I was going to be walking within a mile. I needed her.
...Miles 22-25.5. Completely terrible. We alternated hating our marathon decision about
every half mile, and we alternated encouraging each other at every moment where we were
discouraged. Those three and a half miles were a steady and awful climb uphill...this marathon
was rough. But we kept encouraging and kept running. We needed each other...
You see, the beauty of this marathon was that I knew, more powerfully than ever before in my life, that I couldn’t do this alone. I sincerely needed Rachel in order to continue. I needed the my brother Peter's booming voice coming from the sidelines. I needed my parents affirmation. I needed Amy and Kayla's handmade signs. But in order to run that thing, I really needed Rachel. I needed her, and she needed me...we needed one another.
Over and over again during the race, I repeated these wise words, “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.” (Hebrews 12:1-2).
That day, I really was surrounded by “a great cloud of witnesses” – including Rachel at my side, and our families and dear friends cheering us on from the sidelines. That day, I really did have to choose to run with perseverance, throwing off hindrances and instead fixing my eyes on something far greater than myself.
And on that day, I really couldn’t run that marathon alone. (I'm not even being dramatic here!) So often in my life, I try to do things alone. I think that “I can do it myself,” that “I don’t need to bother others,” that “Really, I got this one.” But, honestly. I wouldn’t have finished that marathon if it hadn’t been for Rachel and my family/friends on the sidelines.
As we rounded the corner of the last half mile, we could see the glory of the State Capitol building in front of us. Even in the midst of the cloudiness of the day, the sign for the finish line seemed to beam at us…the end was literally finally in sight.
Hoards of runners were around us, and I could see a slight downward slant carrying countless Marathon Running Crazies through the finish line. But still, it seemed so far away. My legs were heavy with exhaustion, and pain was searing through every muscle of them. Even my back and feet hurt. My arms were starting to chafe from rubbing up against my tank top. My stomach was growling loudly from hunger. We had worked so hard.
I was honestly tempted to walk it out – I was so done. But, it turned out that I was running this marathon with the former star mid-distance runner on our high school track team - and we were in this together... So when Rachel saw that all we had was about 800 meters left to run, she kicked into gear. And I had no choice. I ran only to stay caught up with her, my legs literally numb beneath me from exhaustion. We passed runner after runner in our pursuit of the finish line, and the beaming white banner continued to get closer.
Our legs steadily pumped, and after far too long of keeping up with this mid-distance girl, we crossed the finish line, arms in the air and the most exhilarating moment of my life surrounding me.
We had literally run a marathon. And I couldn’t have done it alone.
So the next time that you see me trying to be a lone ranger? Remind me of that marathon. Remind me of signing up for it, of mile 13, of mile 17, of mile 21…and of that last 800-meter sprint - all with Rachel. Remind me of how loved I felt when, in the midst of the thousands and thousands of spectators, I heard my brother Peter’s voice boom encouragement to me…when I saw Kayla and Amy with their signs…when I ran past my mom and dad's outstretched arms so they could hand me a sandwich for fuel…
Remind me. Remind me of that great cloud of witnesses. And remind me of the power of living life together.
On this Sunday morning a year ago, Rachel and I hesitantly navigated our way through the Metrodome. We were surrounded by the quiet buzz of fellow insane marathons stretching, cuing up their marathon playlist, securing their ponytails just one last time, and obviously taking that pre-marathon selfie. As we approached the gates, we were surrounded by hoards of such marathoners, and I wondered, not for the first time, why so many thousands of us were idiotic enough to pay for this pain!
Marathons start small…with a certain amount of bravado, but also with a quiet intensity of knowing that the next four hours will be spent running…just running. The gun with off, and took a deep breath to begin. For the first 6 miles, Rachel and I ran at a good clip, weaving in and out of the runners who were going slower than we wanted. “9 minute miles?” we would ask each other… “We’re doing good.”
...Mile 7. We realized that we had been running for an hour already…and had about 3 hours
left. A quiet focus began to settle into our pace, our conversation, and the runners around us.
We were in this for the long haul. No going back. And by the time we hit mile 13, the reality
was that we had already been running for 2 hours, and we were only half done. This was
getting harder...but we were in this together. We needed each other.
...Mile 16. It got really hard. Rachel started to feel some leg pain, and we needed to decide
what to do. “Go ahead without me,” she said. But I wasn’t about to leave her…she had made
me sign up for this, and we weren’t stopping! So I encouraged her, she kept moving, and we
stayed together. She needed me.
...Mile 17. I was done. I was in pain. I was hurting. I hated that we were still running a
marathon, and I was supremely jealous of all the spectators we were passing who were
huddled up in cozy sweaters and cute boots and for the love of pete, Starbucks. I desperately
wanted to stop. I wanted to be done. But Rachel was there, and this time, she encouraged
me, and she wouldn’t let me quit. I needed her.
...Mile 20. I hated my life even more. I told Rachel to keep going without me. She said no,
and she encouraged me even more. She needed me.
...Mile 21. Rachel hated her life and told me to go ahead without her. I told her no way…if I
split up from her, I was going to be walking within a mile. I needed her.
...Miles 22-25.5. Completely terrible. We alternated hating our marathon decision about
every half mile, and we alternated encouraging each other at every moment where we were
discouraged. Those three and a half miles were a steady and awful climb uphill...this marathon
was rough. But we kept encouraging and kept running. We needed each other...
You see, the beauty of this marathon was that I knew, more powerfully than ever before in my life, that I couldn’t do this alone. I sincerely needed Rachel in order to continue. I needed the my brother Peter's booming voice coming from the sidelines. I needed my parents affirmation. I needed Amy and Kayla's handmade signs. But in order to run that thing, I really needed Rachel. I needed her, and she needed me...we needed one another.
Over and over again during the race, I repeated these wise words, “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.” (Hebrews 12:1-2).
That day, I really was surrounded by “a great cloud of witnesses” – including Rachel at my side, and our families and dear friends cheering us on from the sidelines. That day, I really did have to choose to run with perseverance, throwing off hindrances and instead fixing my eyes on something far greater than myself.
And on that day, I really couldn’t run that marathon alone. (I'm not even being dramatic here!) So often in my life, I try to do things alone. I think that “I can do it myself,” that “I don’t need to bother others,” that “Really, I got this one.” But, honestly. I wouldn’t have finished that marathon if it hadn’t been for Rachel and my family/friends on the sidelines.
As we rounded the corner of the last half mile, we could see the glory of the State Capitol building in front of us. Even in the midst of the cloudiness of the day, the sign for the finish line seemed to beam at us…the end was literally finally in sight.
Hoards of runners were around us, and I could see a slight downward slant carrying countless Marathon Running Crazies through the finish line. But still, it seemed so far away. My legs were heavy with exhaustion, and pain was searing through every muscle of them. Even my back and feet hurt. My arms were starting to chafe from rubbing up against my tank top. My stomach was growling loudly from hunger. We had worked so hard.
I was honestly tempted to walk it out – I was so done. But, it turned out that I was running this marathon with the former star mid-distance runner on our high school track team - and we were in this together... So when Rachel saw that all we had was about 800 meters left to run, she kicked into gear. And I had no choice. I ran only to stay caught up with her, my legs literally numb beneath me from exhaustion. We passed runner after runner in our pursuit of the finish line, and the beaming white banner continued to get closer.
Our legs steadily pumped, and after far too long of keeping up with this mid-distance girl, we crossed the finish line, arms in the air and the most exhilarating moment of my life surrounding me.
We had literally run a marathon. And I couldn’t have done it alone.
So the next time that you see me trying to be a lone ranger? Remind me of that marathon. Remind me of signing up for it, of mile 13, of mile 17, of mile 21…and of that last 800-meter sprint - all with Rachel. Remind me of how loved I felt when, in the midst of the thousands and thousands of spectators, I heard my brother Peter’s voice boom encouragement to me…when I saw Kayla and Amy with their signs…when I ran past my mom and dad's outstretched arms so they could hand me a sandwich for fuel…
Remind me. Remind me of that great cloud of witnesses. And remind me of the power of living life together.