I arrived at Chicago Midway exactly one week ago. The last time I flew into this airport, over twenty people with the last name Tang were also here. A warm July weekend for our cousin’s wedding. With less than a month before the San Francisco Marathon, my first thought was “Where can I get in a long run?” Lakefront Trail said the hotel concierge as well as my cousin Elaine, a veteran of the Chicago marathon.

While the rest of the Tangs shopped the Magnificent Mile, I was determined to get in my own magnificent miles. I soon discovered Lake Michigan is really an ocean. Breathtaking. No, literally. I couldn’t breathe. The humidity in July was stifling. But I remember thinking it must only be me since all the other runners on Lakefront didn’t seem to be struggling. A sticky sheen of sweat quickly covered my entire body. I was sludging through each and every step.  Lungs gasping. How do people run here? Why would anyone live here? After all, the “livability” of a city can only be judged by its “runability.”

Fast forward six years later…

THIS IS THE BEST CITY. EVER.

“I can’t wait to come back!” The River Walk, bridges, views, hotel, restaurants, museum, weather… Oh, and THE MARATHON!

From the moment I stepped out of the Orange Line train, headed down the station stairs luggage in hand, landed on the corner of State Street, and saw the illuminated Chicago Theatre marquis just a few feet away, my adrenaline level soared and continued to escalate for the next few days.

You can read all about the Chicago Marathon’s numbers and history of growth, study the course map and starting corral logistics, and look at countless race day photos. But until you are actually standing there at Buckingham Fountain two hours before race start surrounded by the electricity generated by 40,000 runners, volunteers, security, photographers, Chicago skyline, porta potties, and course announcer counting down the minutes to your wave start, you simply cannot fathom the magnitude of this race.

I had my iPod loaded with my favorite pump up jam with me but didn’t use it until much later since the spectator cheering was so loud and inspiring. I thought “I’ll turn on the tunes once the crowds diminish.” They never did. Block after block, mile after mile, this high-spirited Chicago crowd never let up. Neither did the endless lines of volunteers at all twenty aid stations. And the security…

Can I just take a brief moment to address the fact that this major world marathon took place one week after the tragic Las Vegas shooting? My last blog post titled “What Am I Afraid Of?” was written days after. I didn’t mention the shooting or related fears at all. But on the morning of the race, I suddenly became very aware of the tall buildings surrounding me that I had been admiring in iconic race photos for months. A pre-race email from race organizers assured runners that every precaution and measure was being taken to ensure the safety of everyone involved. However, once I stepped through the metal detector leading into the runners’ village, my thoughts took off faster than Galen Rupp and Jordan Hasay, the American winners.

These thoughts weaved in and out of my mind for miles, and then it occurred to me that I really needed to stop this reckless train of thinking before it robbed me of the JOY of an incredible race experience. I’ve relied heavily on God’s Word in the past to get me through some physically tough spots in races, but that day I needed it mentally more than ever.

“We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” 2 Corinthians 10:5 NIV

What do I know as fact about God? That He has been faithful to me, to my family, to my friends, to my country. That He keeps His promises. That His love is unconditional. That He has healed me. That He will never leave me. That He provides all that I need. That He hears all my cries and has held all my tears. That He shields and protects. That He is good. All the time.

The enemy’s strategy is to take my mind off of those facts. And sometimes it works. But then a song came on my iPod shuffle (yeah, it got a little warm after about ten miles so I got out the tunes). A song reminding me that Jesus is fierce. Some days I rely more on the Jesus, Lamb of God, side. Today it was time for Jesus, Lion of Judah.

“No weapon formed against Him will prosper.” Isaiah 54:17 NKJV

I spent the rest of the race truly enjoying each mile, each step, each crazy spectator, each water hose mist, each patch of shade, and whatever God provided to reinforce the fact that this race is His.

And if He has made sure every detail of my race is covered, how can I not be overwhelmed by that?

“Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” Psalm 37:4 NLT

For sure, I delight in Him; but does He delight in me? Am I running in such a way that pleases Him? Am I going a pace that is too far behind or in front of Him? Am I remembering what He coached me on during training? Am I allowing heat or other circumstances to take my eyes off of the eternal prize?

Speaking of heat and delight, God must’ve had Himself a good laugh at mile 22. First off, kudos to Chicago Marathon for having the most aid stations and volunteers I’ve ever seen. City blocks of tables stacked high with Gatorade and water cups along with smiling young volunteers to personally hand them to you. But when I approached the mile 22 station, I noticed a runner taking an empty cup from a pile of empty ones on the ground. Then another runner took the gallon container of water from a volunteer and drank directly from it. I thought “Wow, did they run out of cups?” It was quite warm by this point in the race, and I had just gulped down a GU gel; so I definitely needed some water. So I, too, grabbed the gallon jug from the volunteer and took some hearty chugs straight from the container then handed it back to her. I’ve never seen or done this at a race. I hope the runners after me don’t mind my germs. Can’t believe a major race like this could run out of water. Then probably twenty feet or less later, I saw it. The actual aid station. Both sides of the street lined with volunteers and tables of cold, refreshing FULL water cups. What did I just drink from? Who was the gal that I grabbed the container from? I guess I’ll never know.

I started out the race not using using my iPod. I don’t know that I actually “need” or depend on music to get me through a marathon. I feel like sometimes music adds to a race like properly placed adverbs and punctuation in a story. My finish line song ended up being the Imagine Dragons song “Whatever It Takes.” I have made it my personal goal to interpret any song I run to through the ears of God and how He might use it to propel my next step. I downloaded this song onto my iPod shuffle with the amusing thought that it would be really cool if this came on at Mile 25. Guess what? It sure did.

Chorus:
Whatever it takes
‘Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins
I do whatever it takes
‘Cause I love how it feels when I break the chains
Whatever it takes
You take me to the top
I’m ready for whatever it takes
‘Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins
I do what it takes

I was on the verge of tears of joy on several occasions last weekend. Of course, crossing the finish line of my 43rd marathon. Did I mention that Buckingham Fountain and the start line brought me to tears? And then there was the two mile walk back to the hotel from the finish line that brought on a whole different set of tears. Self-inflicted since I didn’t want to take the shuttle. But so glad I didn’t because I would have missed out on running into a Bay Area friend on the walk back. Hundreds of thousands of runners and spectators, and I happen to spot my friend Elena.

When I finally got back to the hotel, it turns out that Dave was out on the course trying to cheer me on but couldn’t find me. GPS does not like tall concrete buildings, so not surprised that my timing device on my race bib intermittently flipped out and he couldn’t track me. I was really touched that he went to all that effort to try to find me.

I had been on a weather watch two weeks before race day. The forecast was everything from thunderstorms and humidity to high temps. It ended up being picture perfect. In fact, it wasn’t until Dave and I boarded the train back to Midway, that it started pouring down rain.

To say that the Chicago Marathon did not disappoint is quite an understatement. But even more so, experiencing God’s provision, protection, and presence from start to finish. His fingerprints all over every aspect of my four days in the Windy City – which was windy exactly when I needed it to be.