I put it on my calendar New Year’s Eve. Not like a resolution or anything. Maybe because I had recently turned fifty, run some good end-of-year races, and felt strong going into the new year. But more than anything, I didn’t want to just keep adding medals to my collection.

As with most avid runners, my 2017 race calendar was already filling up with the usual suspects and some choice new ones. Race lotteries had determined a few races I would not be running as well as one I would be – the Chicago Marathon in October. My marathon “anniversary race” will always be the San Francisco Marathon in July since it was the one that started it all back in 2009, so that race is usually first on the calendar. Then there’s the Ultra Half Series put on by my favorite local race organization Brazen Racing. The series is a minimum of five trail races plus the championship race comprised of higher elevation half marathons. This year will be my sixth time “competing.” I say competing because there are Top Ten standings, t-shirt, and prize money at stake; however, I’ve always gone into the series simply looking to run my favorite trail races and better my own previous times. Okay, okay, one year I really did want the t-shirt.

So, there I was New Year’s Eve sitting in my comfy bedroom chair that Dave claims is now conformed to my butt and leans to one side from excessive TV watching as well as post-marathon rehabilitation. Laptop open surfing various race websites, one race caught my eye. The Mt. Diablo 50K on April 15th. I wasn’t looking to do a 50K, but somehow, I was drawn to this one. Maybe because I had just turned fifty. Maybe because The Summit would be the highest elevation I’ve ever climbed. Or maybe because I somehow needed this date with Jesus.

I immediately started planning my training schedule. Lots of hill work at the Upper Rim Trail – my happy place. I hate carrying anything in my hands and pockets, so I meticulously researched hydration vests. Practicing nutrition was also in the game plan. Up until then, I had made it through every race I’ve ever run fueled by only GU gels and water.

January came and went unceremoniously. February and March brought with them record amounts of much needed rain along with something else I’d never experience before: hip pain. No big deal. Just a tiny twinge occasionally reminding me “Hey, I’m here.” My last blog post chronicles how the tiny twinge grew into a condition from which I honestly thought I might NEVER run again.

I had planned carefully for specific races leading up to Mt. Diablo as training runs. One of them was the Oakland Marathon two weeks before. Between all the rain thwarting hill training plans and a debilitating hip nerve injury, not only was Oakland not looking good, but the summit of Mt. Diablo seemed even more distant than ever. Resting, icing, heating, stretching, medicating…crying…were now the “norm.” (The crying part is a whole other blog post in itself. The joys of turning fifty.)

I’ve never opted out of a race. Four days before Oakland Marathon and I was still hanging on to the hope of running, even crawling if it came to that. But then God reminded me of a lesson He had coached me through at Mile 24 of the Los Angeles Marathon last year that gave me peace about giving up Oakland:

“Give up what’s good to find what’s best.” A practical object lesson for me from Luke 10:41-42.

‘But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things. Only one thing is important. Mary has chosen the better thing, and it will never be taken away from her.”’ NCV

‘The Master said, “Martha, dear Martha, you’re fussing far too much and getting yourself worked up over nothing. One thing only is essential, and Mary has chosen it—it’s the main course, and won’t be taken from her.”‘ MSG

And that’s when I knew I had a special date with Jesus that I just had to keep.

I was being a “Martha” when it came to doing all the things I thought necessary to prepare for the big race. Including lots of worrying and running that would likely cause more injury. I wanted to give Jesus my best at Mt. Diablo. I wanted to delight in Him and Him in me. I wanted to marvel at His Creation. I wanted to see Jesus in a whole new way and draw closer to Him like never before. I wanted to conquer Devil Mountain with the One who has already won the victory and conquered death.

Turns out race weather for Oakland on that April 2nd was unseasonably warm which would’ve probably killed me if my hip pain didn’t. Score another one for God knowing it wasn’t in my best interest to run that race.

The days leading up to Mt. Diablo were filled with excitement, nervousness, apprehension, and lots of checking my weather app. Oh, and plenty of carbs, beet juice, and potassium loading. I did everything right and as planned but still couldn’t sleep the night before. This might just be the “thorn in my flesh” since I never seem to sleep well before a race. Not sure how much I actually slept, but I woke up fifteen minutes before my alarm was set to go off at 4:30.

Sometimes I feel like the anticipation is the hardest part of the race.

The sun had not yet come up by the time I got to the parking lot of Castle Rock Park, the staging area of the race start and base of Mt. Diablo. I sat in my warm car, read my Bible devotional, and committed the race in prayer as I do before every race. On this particular morning, the Lord brought several people to mind. Friends who had recently shared about life threatening illnesses as well as road blocks in receiving treatments. As I thought about the race I was about to run and the dreaded mountain peaks I would ascend, I knew that nothing I would face today would come close to the challenges facing these friends. I made it my goal to “pray up” these friends on the ascent to the Summit.

Speaking of friends, up until this race, I had underestimated the power of the fuel they provide. I always ask God to provide the necessary fuel to start and finish strong.  Today, God provided friends as essential fuel: the camaraderie, the mental push, some helpful hints along the way, and even shouting out “wrong way! U-turn!” exactly when I needed it. And if you’ve ever hiked up North Peak, you also had to make it down – somehow. North Peak was another section of the race where having friends along the way made it not as terrifying and even laughable as it was so steep that sliding down on your bottom seemed a viable option if you didn’t bring poles (like me) or weren’t coordinated enough to crab walk it.

I also have a new appreciation for aid station volunteers. Tired, sweaty, hungry, salt-deprived, and trying to fill a 1.8 liter hydration bladder could’ve been a daunting task if not for the tireless, encouraging, smiling volunteers – some of which had been there all day. They put out quite a nice assortment of snacks, too. Gotta love boiled potatoes, watermelon chunks, oranges wedges, and bananas all dipped in a hearty portion of salt. Not together, of course. Because THAT would be crazy.

Friends from across the country also ran this race with me. Specifically Dalton, Georgia. I’ve never signed up for a virtual race but this one caught my attention since it supported the Run for God ministry which has published several of my blog posts over the years in their Devotions book series.

The 7th Annual Run at the Mill in 5k/10k/Half Marathon in Dalton was the same day as Mt. Diablo. This was Run for God’s “anniversary race.” The theme and prayer that rang through the hearts’ of the Run for God founders months before as well as the microphone on race morning was from Luke 9:20. It posed the same life changing question Jesus asked His disciples over 2,000 years ago:

“But what about you?” He asked. “Who do you say I am?” NIV

God has used running to help me answer that question. Sure, it’s taken almost nine years and 200 races, but I am closer now to answering that question than when I ran my first race back in March 2009.

So, who do I say Jesus is?

He is the One who never leaves my side up and down the toughest, longest races I’ve ever run. Actually, short races, too, since I’m a horrible sprinter.

He is the One who allows me to see and hear the beauty all around and share with all of Creation praising Him. I’ve never been a “nature person,” but that’s what trail running and this particular journey to the Summit has unearthed in me.

He is the One who keeps my feet from slipping and protects me from my enemies. Twenty two stream crossings, rocky and narrow paths, bees, snakes, poison oak…to name a few. But especially the enemy who likes to whisper doubts and excuses in my ear all day long.

He is the One who heals and proves where I can put my hope and trust. But also shows me that I can still have joy amidst pain regardless of not knowing when healing will come.

He is the One who sets the pace and constantly reminds me to not get ahead of Him or fall behind. It’s only taken me some 200 races to figure out that it really doesn’t pay to start out a race too fast.

He is the One who keeps my focus on breathing in more of Him and exhaling more of me. Literally and figuratively. Another great object lesson: I can’t fill a container that’s already full. Holding back and holding on to my old ways, thoughts, habits, attitudes doesn’t exactly leave much room for more of Him.

And finally…

He is the One who is worthy of devoting every step, every thought, every word, every breath, every minute, every hour, every day, every race. Worthy because He knows firsthand about pain, anguish, humiliation, betrayal, victory, joy, friendship, forgiveness, grace, mercy, compassion, love. Worthy because He died and conquered death for me. Pure and simple, Jesus is the reason I run.

My favorite part of this race? The moments alone with Jesus on narrow single tracks completely surrounded by lush greenery, or the wide rolling paths where I couldn’t see over the next hill because it’s about to become really steep again, or that lonely perfectly content massive oak tree with half of its canopy stretching over the path in front of me, or any one of the twenty knee-deep streams I got to splash through, or those countless breathtaking views of the valley below…

I’ve said before in previous posts that I don’t like to bring my phone on runs. This is probably the one race that I really wish I had thinking back to the countless picture perfect moments God and I could’ve taken some awesome selfies together. Instead, I’ll just have to rely on memory and pictures friends took along the way.

But really, I don’t ever have to look far to be reminded of that incredible date as Mt. Diablo is quite literally visible from anywhere I go. Funny since I never truly had an appreciation for this view. In fact, for weeks leading up to the race, I had this dreaded thought that if the day didn’t go well that this view would be a constant reminder of failure. A 3,849 foot high reminder that I didn’t prepare enough, or a DNF on my record, or not making the eleven hour cut-off time, or that I just had no business even signing up for this race.

Now, every day I have this pervasive, stunning, visual reminder of that date. Now, each time I look up at Mt. Diablo – be it standing in my street, leaving for work, or coming home from grocery shopping – I have the best reminder of the date I had with Jesus. Better than any medal.

Photo credit: Chasqui Runner, Jason Lehrbaum, Oscar Mejorada