The “PIVOT” scene and “The One Where Phoebe Runs” are two of the most memorable Friends episodes. So much so that now every time we try to move large pieces of furniture, we instinctively yell “PIVOT” with that exaggerated Ross tone of voice.

Most recently while on the Lafayette Rim Trail, I had just reached the top of the steepest climb as a new pumped-up version of “Joy to the World” came on my iPod. As I was now on the descent and my favorite part of the trail was in front of me, I was actually giddy. I not only ran faster but freer, if that makes sense. No one was watching. I was alone on the trail. I didn’t care about running form or how I looked. It was one of those rare moments in which I could’ve laughed, cried, shouted, sang, leaped, skipped, and ran simultaneously.

I love Phoebe’s response when Rachel tried to apologize for being embarrassed to run with her:

“That’s okay Rachel. I’m not judging you; that’s just who you are. Me. I’m more free y’know? I run like I did when I was a kid, cause that’s the only way it’s fun. Y’know, I mean didn’t you ever run so fast you thought your legs were gonna fall off? Y’know, like when you were like running towards the swings or running away from Satan? (Rachel looks confused) The neighbor’s dog.”

Yes, I believe God can use a sitcom character’s words to illustrate His truth and desires for me. To draw closer to Jesus. To see His fingerprints all over the details of each moment. To run and live each day like I don’t care who’s watching – well, except for Jesus. And to find joy in all circumstances.

Joy – often confused with or used interchangeably with “happy.” That word is especially prevalent this time of the year as in “Happy Holidays” and “Happy New Year.” I confess I woke up this New Year’s Eve morning with some anxiety. Some painful words from my dad yesterday still ringing in my ears. Okay, completely wrecked me. A few days ago, I was on a high from a great Christmas with my entire family followed by a quick trip to Arizona to watch what ended up being an abysmal football game (five interceptions – really?!) but ending with a spectacular desert trail hike. But now the glow of the holidays is over. My kids have left the nest once again. Christmas decorations have been put into storage. The anticipation of 2019 is now looming.

Joy – so easily stolen. I actually started writing this blog post Saturday. Before heading out that morning for a run at my “happy place,” I discovered my bike had been stolen – yes, the custom lime green one. I was already feeling slightly depressed cuz the holidays were over, but this just made me more sad.

After quickly reporting the theft, I headed off to the reservoir for my run. I made a conscious effort to praise God out loud in the car – cuz I know I’m supposed to praise Him in all circumstances good and bad. Then something unexpected happened. I started getting angry and praises turned into battle cries aimed at Satan declaring he’s messed with the wrong gal. Cuz I’m the daughter of the one true powerful King! That’s right, Devil, you just messed with a child of the Almighty One – the Creator of the Universe – who can take you down with one word! That’s right, you good-for-nothin’ bleepity-bleep!! I might’ve said something stronger.

Funny how quickly my thoughts and emotions went from sadness, empathy, and picturing the poor, desperate dad (who maybe needed to steal my bike three days after Christmas to pay bills and provide for his family) to cursing the wicked, destructive ways of Satan who’s only mission is to take our eyes off of Jesus and make us think we can’t be happy unless everything goes our way.

In a way, he’s right. Happiness is temporary and dependent upon circumstances. God is the exact opposite. He is all about rising above circumstances. He is all about character and integrity. He is all about turning our ashes and mourning into beauty. He is all about demonstrating perfect love – the kind that already knows I’m gonna mess up a million more times in ways that disappoint people but not Him. He is all about forgiveness and restoration – even when I’m the one tempted to keep the incorrect overpaid change given to me, even when in my mind I want so badly at mile 17 of a marathon to hop over the invisible divider that would put me at mile 24, even when I know I should spend more time with my aging, often frustrating parents but only schedule the dutiful minimum, and even when I skim over His Word in the morning cuz I woke up late or was just too busy to give it my full attention and whole heart.

In so many ways, I steal from God every day.

When I really stop to think about it, everyday I’m taking stuff that doesn’t belong to me. Guilt, shame, blame, time, praise, glory. God never meant for us to have ownership over any of those things.

I ended up having one of my best hill training runs Saturday. I wasn’t wearing my Garmin, so I don’t know if it was actually “my best,” but it was so freeing and overflowing with God’s presence that even a PR couldn’t bring me as much joy. At that moment, I decided my goal for 2019 would be to run like Phoebe. With joy like a little kid running towards the swings. With the mindset that God’s opinion of me is the only one that really matters. With reckless abandon for the things on God’s heart.

“Don’t be dejected and sad, for the JOY of the Lord is your strength!” Nehemiah 8:10 NLT

“Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.” 1 Thessalonians 5:18 NLT

“Not that I was ever in need, for I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little. For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength.” Philippians 4:11-13 NLT

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.