I overheard this conversation on the shuttle bus to the CIM start line a few weeks ago. The warm bus was parked in line with dozens of other buses filled with runners waiting out the cold until the last minute. He was probably early thirties, maybe late twenties, as were his running companions. They were finishing up bananas, peanut butter sandwiches, and stuffing extra layers of clothing in their gear check bags. Then one by one, they shared race strategies and goals. These were some fast runners. I mean, c’mon, sub 3 is fast at any age, right? Then one gal – with shocked expression – asked the guy “Hey, where’s your Garmin?” He looked at his naked wrist and said with theatrical sarcasm “Oh no! How am I gonna run now?” His companions nervously laughed at this relaxed candor. Seeing their faces, he seemingly felt the need to reassure them that everything would be alright and half-joked “I guess I’ll just have to pretend it’s ten years ago.”
Ten years ago. I couldn’t help but smile thinking about how my own running journey began ten years ago. Ten years ago I didn’t own a watch or any device that could track distance, time, elevation, cadence, steps, calories, and temperature to name a few features of my Garmin Fenix 3 (which is already behind several upgraded versions since I purchased it in 2014). Ten years ago, I ran in whatever shoes were on sale at Big 5 that weren’t totally ugly. I’d never heard of Hoka or minimum heel-to-toe drop. Ten years ago I wore cotton t-shirts and shorts that looked like my junior high PE shorts. Ten years ago I did not know social media was a thing. Ten years ago I ran my first marathon and didn’t post it on Facebook or Instagram.
Fast forward to 2018 CIM (California International Marathon). Lots of emotions and reflections leading up to that crisp, clear, cold December 2nd morning. I hadn’t planned on it being my 50th marathon. I didn’t want to overthink it or place too great a significance on it. But as race day approached, something about it just “felt” different. Okay, okay, it did feel special. You know what else I felt? Sick as a dog. Yup, the week before I managed to develop some sort of gross hacking cough and felt like passing out that Sunday. Tough breathing made me think perhaps the recent NorCal fires and horrible AQI’s were to blame. Yeah, when you can see ash all over your car and can’t see Mt. Diablo at all, it’s bad.
This isn’t how any runner wants to feel going into any race much less a 50th marathon. All my personal hype and emotion went out the window as I was now focused on just getting to that start line without hacking up a lung. I almost forgot to email my CIM buddy Lisa who I had met in 2012 at the start line as she and her pace team partner were leading a group of runners in a pre-race prayer. We’ve kept in contact every year since then. And we’ve met up for prayer before each race as well. This year when I saw her with her 4:05 pace group, it was extra special. We exchanged long hugs with tears in our eyes. I’d also invited an Instagram running friend to join us for prayer. She recognized me from my bright lime green Run for God shirt. Several other women in Lisa’s pace group joined us as I asked God to lead, strengthen, and encourage each of them. I prayed they’d run a Hebrews 12:1 race of perseverance and endurance on this course that God had marked out for us. And I prayed we would give Jesus the glory from start to finish.
Then we hugged and didn’t see each other again. Until the next day’s Instagram posts.
It’s been years since 4:05 was my goal. This year my goal was 4:45. Realistic since all year I had been running anywhere between 4:29 and 5:00. The one year I tried to keep pace with Lisa, I held on until about mile 17.
Funny thing about running with a super high techy watch. I don’t even look at it during a race. When I got my first “real” running watch about eight years ago, I was so hyper-focused on mile splits. It’s a miracle I never ran into a pole or tripped from constantly looking at that watch face. A few years ago, I went the other extreme. I decided I’d just use my Garmin for training purposes and look at race stats afterward. I started doing something kinda hokey and non-techy lately for marathons. I pick a reasonable goal time and load my iPod playlist with that exact time’s number of tunes. Last year’s CIM goal was 4:40, and I finished in 4:38 with my last song blasting. At Carmel Marathon this spring, the goal was 4:30. Finished in 4:29 just as a fave song was ending.
Not exactly an Olympic marathon training method, but hey, it got the job done.
This year’s CIM and 50th marathon can be summed up with these beginning, middle, and ending songs: “Well Done” by The Afters, “Little Drummer Boy” by For King and Country, and “Christmas Canon” by Trans Siberian Orchestra. I desperately wanted to run this 50th marathon with God saying “Well done!” not just when I crossed the finish line, but every step of the way. That meant sustaining a laser focus on Jesus by committing and submitting each mile, each thought, each heartbeat, each emotion, and each step to Him.
Tis the season, so how could I not throw in some Christmas tunes especially with the giant decorated Christmas tree waiting for me at the finish line in front of the State Capitol Building. I had recently read the Message version of the famous Luke 2 account of the night Jesus was born. To my delight, it said that the shepherds RAN to see the new born savior in the manger! That was all the motivation I needed to picture the star atop the State Capitol Christmas tree and me running toward it like the shepherds did. “Little Drummer Boy” reminds me to give my best effort because, really, what gift could I possible lay before the King that would be considered worthy? Jesus doesn’t want our “stuff.” He wants our whole heart. That last song with its heart-pounding, perfectly timed cadence from TSO’s version of “Christmas Canon” was all I needed to kick it into high gear that last mile with the lyrics reminding me of “the hope that He brings.”
Marathon 50 was all I could hope for and more. I’ve never run a race with no regrets until this one. There’s always the woulda/coulda/shoulda’s that go through my head after a race. The trifecta of regrets. This race was so entirely focused on giving Jesus the best Christmas gift that I possibly could. I ran my best for Him. PA-RUM-PUM-PUM-PUM.
Today I ran the Rim Trail on those steep but soft trails I’ve missed since focusing on flat asphalt training for CIM the past few months. It crossed my mind – as I was completely invigorated and immensely content being out there on top of the world – that 2019 is around the corner, and I need to be a good steward of the races I’ve already committed. In fact, I just got the email this morning that I got into next year’s Chicago Marathon. I get to run my 53rd marathon for my 53rd birthday! I’ve thought a lot about incorporating more speed training and hill repeats, but what really resonated with me was those words “pretend it’s ten years ago.” Whoa, wait… Does that mean no more running with my Garmin or iPod? Or no more Facebook and Instagram posts about running? Nah. Well, maybe. When technology drives my motivation or becomes a measure of the joy I hope to feel, then maybe it’s time to dial it back. Back ten years perhaps.
When I think about the pure joy and absolute contentment of this year’s CIM, I want that again. And not just in running – in every moment of each day.
