So You Want to Run a Marathon

This blog post in honor of my so(u)l(e) sister Libby McCollom who is running her second marathon this coming Sunday. Happy running!

I'm definitely not a super athlete. I really like food and reading and watching various nerdy tv shows on Netflix instead of taking a daily run. I get annoyed at those daily posts where people think they need to post every healthy thing they have eaten/run/experienced in a day for all the world to see. But on the back of my car rest two stickers with those familiar numbers of 13.1 and 26.2, signs that I have completed half and full marathons.

Running to me is not my life, but it is definitely a hobby which I enjoy. I love getting out on warm days and letting my legs carry me far and fast as my lungs burst for need of air. I love getting all sweaty and not caring, flopping down in some grass after a long run and feeling like the whole universe is giving me a hug via my endorphins and the sounds of my heart pounding in sync with all that is around me. I really love when people talk to me about running, and share that they, too, run; that they have also experienced that runner's high and have felt the joy that is the marathon. What confuses me is when I share that I have run half and full marathons and I receive a response along the lines of "Oh! You must be so brave/strong/athletic/etc." I usually turn around and state the truth, that anyone can run a marathon.

It all starts with commitment. You will find a race that looks good, and you will sign up. Signing up is the easy part. What happens in the following months is difficult. Running has very little to do with your physical abilities and more to do with how willing you are to commit. There will be times in which you simply do not want to wake up early on a Saturday morning to go run in cold weather. There will be times in which you want to make unhealthy choices because they are easier than maintaining the front of eating and living more healthily. There will be times when running is really impossibly difficult, and you will want to throw in the towel and forget about ever becoming a marathoner.

Don't ever quit.

Not every run will feel good. At times, you will doubt that you are able to accomplish such a daunting task. If you are not a person who swears, you will still find yourself uttering more than a few curses on those difficult runs. You will hurt in places you didn't know existed and you will probably shed a tear or two in the training season leading up to your big race. Don't ever quit. Even veteran runners have challenging runs. You are not alone. Amidst all the pain, you will start to realize that you can go farther. Those 5-6 milers that used to be your long runs will become second nature. You will find yourself going farther, feeling better, and developing muscles that you can (and will) be proud of. Your body will become accustomed to running, and even on days when it hurts, you will find that you know your body better than you expected, and you will either push through the pain or instinctively know when it's time to rest. And if you have to take some time off to rest and heal your body.....it's really ok. You will still be able to run the race with endurance, as long as you are willing to get back in your shoes and run after that time of healing has passed.

As race day gets nearer, you will feel a little crazed. You will start imagining all the ways in which you might get injured pre-race and will start to notice all the things that make you feel inadequate as a runner. Do not let your mind win this battle. Trust your heart and your training. You are able to do this, and you will do this.

You will barely sleep the night before you run the big 26.2, and on the morning of the race, you will feel all kinds of sick to your stomach. The commitment that led you through months of training will drag your feet to the starting line.

Once the race starts, your heart and body will take over. You won't remember portions of your race, and that's ok. When the half marathoners split off from you, you will have a split second of panic before experiencing a moment of clarity, of singular purpose towards finishing the greater race as a whole. They have their race to face, you have yours. At some point around the 20th mile or more, you will suddenly hit a mental and emotional wall while starting to hurt in places you didn't even know you had. All of your doubts will come to the forefront of your thoughts, and you will know in your heart that you cannot finish the race. Drown out those voices by seeking help from the crowd around you; they are there to cheer you on. Focus on interacting with the crowd rather than on your own pain. People are more likely to cheer you on when you make eye contact with them, and you need their support (even if they are total strangers). Also, at some point in your race, you may start to cry, and that's ok, too.

At mile 26, you will see the finish line, and if you have any type of a soul in your body, you will start to cry. You will hurt in ways you never dreamed it would be possible to hurt, but you will force yourself across that line. At that point, so many things will be happening, but all you will know is that you are a marathoner, and that you have done something you never dreamed would be a possibility.

You will walk funny for a few days, and may get stuck trying to climb stairs. Don't go bragging about your feat, but when people ask why you are walking so strangely, tell them with pride that you are a marathoner. The high will last for as long as the soreness. But eventually your body will heal, and life will go on.

The title of "marathoner", however, will stick with you forever. You will remember how you pushed yourself and how you succeeded when faced with grey days, and the memory will make you stand a little taller. Whenever you experience difficulties, you will handle them more gracefully, having been tested and tried through the marathon and having come out on the other side. You will be more aware of yourself, more aware of others, more confident in your own skin and body, recognizing how amazing it is that your flesh and blood carried you 26.2 miles and that you survived to tell the tale.

And, before too long....you will begin looking for another race. Because running is not a one-time thing. Running is all about that initial commitment, which will pulse through your veins and will make you long for more runs, more distance, and more of those finish line highs that come from running a marathon.

Anyone can run a marathon. Are you willing to commit to the challenge?

Doubting Thomas

Let's be honest: when life gets busy, I get really bad at journaling or blogging. I just re-read the last post I had on here, and it was from the end of October when I was only 2 months into my internship. But here I am, writing again, in April, having received my board-certification as a music therapist and having started work towards some various music therapy contracts. Life is looking pretty great, and there are a lot of things to be excited about.

But in the midst of the excitement that is my 23rd year of life, I'm still struggling. When I was in Iowa, I was pretty isolated. I saw my fellow intern quite frequently, but as far as a spiritual community atmosphere went, I was alone on my own little island. I visited a handful of churches while in Iowa, but there was always that sense of recognition that my time there was short and that I didn't want to put down roots in a community that would only last for a small season. So I stayed isolated, telling myself that it would be fine on my own, and that nothing could touch me. Being away from a supportive community, though, had some major detrimental effects. Around December, my heart grew cold and apathetic. Absolutely nothing negative had happened in my life, but without the ongoing support of fellow believers and the subsequent hours of silence in my house, I began questioning my beliefs and my values and pretty much everything that I had believed to be solid. When I was 20, I had added the item "go to a monastery and take a vow of solitude for a week or more" to my bucket list. I'm a proud introvert, and the prospect of extended solitude brought images of me leaving that time a triumphant super-Christian, on first-name buddy terms with God and surrounded by an air of an overwhelming purpose revealed for my life as I marched stoically out across a rolling meadow singing hymns. Although I didn't go to a monastery, I got my wish of solitude, 6 full months of it. The reality of it was more in alignment with me emerging from smoke, covered in dirt, unable to walk or think or feel much of anything other than what was felt in the day-to-day living and doubting everything about myself and God. Don't get me wrong, I was definitely not miserable during this time. I have so many fond memories of Iowa and all the adventures that occurred while there. But spiritually, Iowa was definitely a low point in my life. My apathetic heart told me that I didn't need God to get by, and so I set out to fend for myself, hoping to be okay.

And then Iowa ended, and I packed up my car and moved back to Kansas. I had a couple of positively perfect days with my Kansas loved ones, then went to Oklahoma for almost 2 weeks of refreshing time with family. I returned to Kansas and have since been working on career things, preparing for my boards and applying for jobs. It's refreshing to be back. But even in my "normal" community, I'm still feeling my heart grow apathetic, still feeling a sense of doubt and unfeeling in relation to my faith. Having grown up in a loving church home, it's really hard to admit that I have doubts. It's not even that I doubt that God is real--I believe that with all my heart and feel that it is true, as easy as breathing. I guess it's more of a sense of knowing that God is real, but having lost that sense of feeling, of waking up in the morning grateful for the promise of a new day and the continuing, merciful love of a Savior. My head knows it is all true. My heart has gotten cold.

Last Sunday in church, our interim pastor was preaching about Palm Sunday, and how it was that the crowd went from worshiping Jesus on Sunday to calling for His crucifixion on Friday. The gist of it was the fact that the people had wanted a Savior, and Jesus had definitely come in that role. What they hadn't expected was Him requiring to also be Lord of their lives in addition to their Savior. Claiming Christ as Savior is a passive thing. Nothing that we do can make Him save us; it comes from His grace and mercy alone. Claiming Christ as Lord is a bit more tricky. It requires allowing Him control and living in a way that is honoring to Him. It requires dying to self and seeking His glory above all else.

So this week, my prayer has been that I will be able to make Christ the Lord of my life, even when I don't feel. That I will be able to truly connect to and be vulnerable with the fellow believers in my life who have always been so supportive of me in the past. To die to myself on a daily basis, even when I would rather be selfish. I know that God doesn't need my faith to exist. I know that faith is more or less the hope that God is true to His promises and in His love for me (see: Hebrews 11; Romans 8). And so I am hoping that this apathy will end, and I am leaning on the promise that He is God, and that He knows me infinitely and intimately, even in times when I doubt myself.

In conclusion, I leave you with a song called "Doubting Thomas" by Nickel Creek. The lyrics basically outline a struggle with doubt, but ultimately ends with the singer choosing to believe in spite of his doubts. Click on the link; I promise it is worth your time.

Yahweh, I believe. Help my unbelief.


Doubting Thomas by Nickel Creek