Throughout training this spring and summer I thought I’d never experienced an emotional rollercoaster quite like what I’d been through. It seemed that every time I would experience a breakthrough, a new injury would reveal itself. I quickly realized the biggest emotional rollercoaster I would experience was the marathon event itself. Here’s a story about our weekend, pushing new limits, and discovering what we’re capable of:

We flew out to Chicago Friday morning; the marathon was on Sunday. Throughout the summer I had been struggling with IT Band Syndrome as well as tendinitis in my ankles. Because of these barriers and allowing them adequate time to heal, I had only ran 10 miles in preparation while normal training schedules suggest 18 or 20. That week I had a swollen ankle/calf and my IT band felt as though it was about to snap. As I limped around in an ace bandage, I couldn’t imagine running a marathon in a few days. Still, I optimistically packed my running shorts and shoes in the hopes that I might feel good enough to at least enjoy the starting experience. There was no way I could finish. Friday we enjoyed the city and got to have dinner with my good friend Andrew. If I wasn’t going to do what I came here to do - run a marathon - at least I was having a fantastic time with Nate and got to see an incredible friend.

On Saturday I was barely limping and decided I was going to join Nate, Jen, and Phil at the start line the next day. I went out and bought a shirt to run in and started thinking about my plan for the morning: How much fuel would I need? How much would I hydrate before the race began? What does one eat for breakfast before setting out to run an undetermined amount of miles in a city she is completely unfamiliar with? I looked at the course map and knew where I could quit and walk to our hotel or quit and get medical transportation along the course back to the finish. Those were the only two outcomes I could imagine.

5:30 Sunday morning saw us bright-eyed and ready to run. We walked down to the start line as a group around 6:30. At 7:30 the marathon began. And we stayed put. Apparently, it takes a few minutes for 37,000 people to cross over that start line. After walking a few minutes we finally began jogging and crossed over the start - we had officially begun! Running through downtown Chicago with hundreds of strangers cheering for us was an amazing feeling! My leg felt alright, though I stayed at a slow and consistent pace to be safe. Nate joined me for the first mile and a half and then took off on his own. Mile after mile I ran steadily with discomfort and an awareness of my injuries, but no sharp pain. What a blessing! By the time I made it to mile 13, I was beginning to accept the fact I might finish! Then, at mile 18, the impending disaster I was expecting all along struck. The tendinitis in my left ankle flared up so badly it was excruciating to put pressure on it. I played around with different limps and shuffles and eventually ended up mostly walking. I stopped every mile to stretch it out but the pain wouldn’t subside. By this time, many runners were in the same boat as I was. Knowing that I had 8 painful miles to go was almost enough to make me limp over to the medical tent and take myself out, but the elusiveness of the finish line (so close, yet so far) kept beckoning. For the next 8 miles, strangers with Twizzlers, little kids with their hands out for high-fives, and the encouragement of people yelling my name (it was written on my arm) got me through. I ran when I could and walked when I needed to. I was obviously injured, visibly limping, but my determination was focused on that finish line. At mile 25, a few tears came down as I recognized I really was going to complete the Chicago Marathon! I ran the last 1/2 mile and finished strong: 5 hours, 50 minutes, and 26.2 miles later.

After getting a heat blanket, my medal, and (of course) a cup of free beer, I searched for Nate, Jen, and Phil. They found me quickly and I collapsed, gracefully and happily, on the ground as they offered their congratulations. They all did wonderfully - Nate finished in 4:20! He’s caught the bug for racing again. I’m looking forward to rocking more Triathlons next summer and letting some of my long-distance running injuries get the proper healing they deserve.

The icing on the cake happened on the flight home. As the many marathoners shuffled onto the plane, the pilot was there to offer his congratulations. Then he decided to have some in-flight fun with us. We were to tell the flight attendant our times; the fastest and slowest marathoners would get a free drink from the pilot. I’m proud to say I was the slowest runner on the plane and got to sip on a drink as I completed my interpreting homework on the plane.

So what did I learn? My stubbornness isn’t always a bad thing. I’m capable of far more than I thought I was. My friends are amazing. My husband is one of the strongest and more supportive people I know. Humility isn’t a natural state for many of us; some of us have to be forced into it. God doesn’t delight in pain or suffering, but He will use it for His good if we let Him.

I’ll leave you with the scripture written on my hand during the marathon. I repeated it to myself when I needed encouragement, a habit that I certainly won’t stop even though the race itself is over:

And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us. We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith. - Hebrews 12:1-2