I quite literally could not coherently post or comment last night after nine and a half hours on the trails yesterday in 80 degree temps and over 8,000 feet of elevation. I was dead tired but couldn’t sleep from all the caffeinated energy gels consumed during the race. Probably the equivalent of ten cups of coffee.

I just now got home from church. Me and my five shot mocha plus Biofreeze scented bod hobbled into service this morning. Almost didn’t make it but knew I’d really feel like I missed out if I didn’t take this opportunity to offer up praise and thanksgiving – especially after yesterday’s race up and down Mt. Diablo.

The enormity of the experience didn’t hit me until driving to church and making that turn up Crow Canyon Road which gives me a straight on, direct view of the Summit and North Peak. That view combined with a perfectly timed Kutless song on the radio brought me to tears:

“Let the King of my heart
Be the mountain where I run
The Fountain I drink from
Oh, He is my song
Let the King of my heart
Be the shadow where I hide
The ransom for my life
Oh, He is my song
You are good, good, ohhh…”

Then all the emotions and thoughts starting flooding my heart and mind. Aww man, I know I’m gonna lose it walking into service if I don’t pull it together in the next five minutes.

Not coincidentally, today’s message was on the topic of joy. The key scripture was from Nehemiah 8 and specifically verse 10:

“The joy the of the Lord is my strength.”

Yeah, I have that verse on a mug a student gave me years ago. I confess I never paid much attention to it until recently. To say that those words were instrumental yesterday would be an understatement. That verse helped propel me forward one painful step after another. As race photos are being uploaded, I just caught a few of me with friends, some big smiles, and a few crazy expressions. I totally want to look back at races years from now with fond memories. But more than anything, that my joy was not based on my performance that day. When I first started racing in 2009, I’d like to officially declare those race photos were not me. They were of some other poor soul in utter agony, overly focused on mile splits, and not physically capable of cracking a smile to save her life. I love how this morning Pastor Rick said in his message: “Are you joyful? Then tell your face!”

The other verse that was like CPR yesterday was Isaiah 53:5 “And by His stripes we are healed.” NKJV

You see, at most trail races, the course is marked with color coded ribbons corresponding to the race distance. Depending on the terrain and technical difficulty of the course, there could be more or less ribbons. The Mt. Diablo 50k is considered one of the more challenging, technical courses. Having run this course four times, you’d think I’d know it’s twists and turns fairly well by now. The first year, I did manage to go off course by almost a mile. Two years ago, it was by the grace of God and a fellow runner who saw me take a wrong turn and yelled out to me saving my sorry butt from a very long detour. Last year I was especially careful to look on ahead for those pink course ribbons hanging from tree branches at eye level. Doesn’t seem that hard to miss, right? But when you’re constantly looking down at the ground for rocks, tree roots, poison oak, and other trail hazards, it is entirely possible to miss a ribbon.

Yesterday, I saw those ribbons from a different perspective. Each pink and red ribbon represented a stripe Jesus suffered for me. Every time I saw a course ribbon, I was reminded that Jesus took on unimaginable pain with every crack of the whip, pounding of the hammer, and shout from the crowd. I don’t mean to over-dramatize this; but as the day wore on, temperatures rose, terrain worsened, and pain set-in, I depended on those ribbons for more than just course direction. God knows I am such a visual learner and object lessons go far with me. Those ribbons kept the praise and worship going when I was at my weakest.

I have to remember to ask my friend Oscar – course marking king – how many ribbons he used this year. It seemed like more than previous years. He says some runners complain about the course marking if they get lost. I am truly thankful.

Obviously since I’m writing all this, I survived the course and live to tell. Sam – race director, friend, and the one who dubbed me “The Tanginator” at a race years ago – always gives pre race instructions and wise advice to know when to call it a day if it’s just not your day. As I get older and race recovery seems to take longer, my last few races I find myself saying “There will come a day when I can’t do this. Today is not that day.”

It occurred to me as I was descending down from Juniper Station (mile 25-ish) that this could be my last time running a 50k on this mountain. The consistent pounding on the body and more achiness are just realities that I didn’t worry about ten years ago when I first started running. Most runners are so excited to hit the downhill parts of the course. Not me. I’m not a good technical runner, and gravity is not my friend. Surprisingly, I rarely fall during races. Yesterday I fell on a steep downhill around mile 27-ish. So much blood coming from my left hand where I initially landed. Turned out to be a teeeeeeeeny tiny scrape as I discovered after quickly rinsing it in one of the many nice cold stream crossings heading to the finish line. But you know where the views were most spectacular and absolutely breathtaking? On the steepest parts of the course. So what’s a little fall in comparison? After that, I made it a point to not go crazy fast (like previous years) down those last descents and just take it all in. The poppies and all the green for miles as far as the eye could see… As my friend Maureen said, “It was like the flowers were welcoming us down the hill and to the finish.”

Yesterday was the first time I forgot to wear my Garmin to a race. I had it all charged on my nightstand in its usual place. I had to laugh when I realized I’d forgotten it since all week I knew I wasn’t running this race for a new PR or any specific time in mind. I love the beauty this course affords and just wanted it to be a day on the mountain spent with Jesus and friends. One of the first people I saw at the start line was my friend Mike. Funny since he is the gadget guy. He runs with not one, but two watches. We both have the exact same Garmin Fenix 3 with the lime green band. A man of good taste. Mike has also quite impressively logged every single mile he has run since he started running almost a decade ago. When I saw Mike, I showed him my naked wrist and said “Can you believe I forgot my Garmin?!” The look on his face was priceless. Well, fast forward 9:33.15 – my official finish time. Did it even happen if my watch didn’t record it? Ha, ha…all the memes. This was my slowest 50k. My PR is 8:04 which at the time I don’t think I really appreciated.

Mike asked a great question after the race. “Sorry you left your Garmin at home, but was it a little freeing?” I honestly didn’t know how to answer. Wearing a watch is good for training and accountability. It’s also essential when you’re chasing a specific goal like at last year’s Carmel Marathon where sub 4:30 was my goal. At mile 25, I knew the goal was still in reach, but I’d have to kick it into high gear that last mile according to my Garmin. I ended up crossing that finish line with 13 seconds to spare. Yesterday I remember telling God, “This race is in Your hands. Time is in Your hands.” Literally. Did not wearing a watch free me to focus on other things? Yes. Yes, it did.

PC: Brazen Racing, Jay Boncodin, Cecilia Wolfram, Maureen Polacci