When I hit mile 22 and saw the lone drummer boy amidst the spectators, I had to smile. It was at that moment TobyMac’s version of “Little Drummer Boy” happened to play on my iPod shuffle.
The day began before sunrise with a 3:45am wake-up call, customary pre-race breakfast, and lining up for the 5am start line shuttle. I hadn’t slept well all week. I never sleep well when Dave is away on business trips. It’s gotten worse this last year. At any hotel, I usually request a higher floor away from the elevator and ice machine. This was my sixth year staying at the CIM host hotel which is ideally located steps from the shuttle buses and minutes from the finish line at the state Capitol building. There have been a couple of years sleep did not come easy due to street noise from late night events at the restaurant below or hotel Christmas party with amplified music and an energetic DJ.
Lights out before ten has always been a struggle especially recently. Even when I was a teacher, going to bed before 11pm was not a habit I ever developed. So when I tucked myself in at 9 and settled in with a good book, I was pleasantly surprised to feel my eyelids getting heavy. Lights out at 9:30. And then the drum beats began. As well as loud voices entering the room next door. The drum beat got louder. Now I was wide awake.
I didn’t want to be “that” person who called front desk to complain, so I laid in bed with a pillow over my head trying desperately to tune out the noise and praying another hotel guest would call. After what felt like an hour of this, I finally gave in and called. They were very nice and said they would send up security. Then I thought “Oh no, I don’t want my neighbors to be mad at me.” Yeah, they were mad. I heard some swearing and choice words before the music finally stopped and guests left for probably another party elsewhere. Maybe another room next to another poor runner.
The next sound I heard was my iPhone alarm going off. Another loud, unpleasant drum beat. But I felt surprisingly refreshed. My last prayer before falling asleep had been for God to grant me restorative rest – no matter how brief – and to rely on Him no matter the circumstances. As I ate my breakfast and read my devotional from good old Oswald Chambers, I got my marching orders for the race. The theme was “not by might or by power, but by My spirit.” I was pumped and felt good despite having slept four hours.
My first thought after the bus stopped – besides hitting the porta potties – was to find Lisa. I had met Lisa five years ago at the start line of what would go down as “2012 CIM Monsoon Year.” I noticed Lisa not because she was a pace team leader holding up her three foot wooden stick with the bright red “4:10” sign, but because she was with a small group of runners praying. I snuck in and joined them as they were finishing their prayers for all runners to have a strong, safe race. As the wind picked up and rain poured down, I added my own prayer to the group’s from Joshua 1:9 which I had been praying continually since seeing the weather forecast days before.
“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” NIV
That’s how Lisa and I became friends. And what I now look forward to every year at CIM: our pre-race prayer time. I found her email through the CIM pace team page and have kept in touch over the years. She’s even invited me to stay with her in Sacramento the night before the race. Maybe I’ll sleep better if I take her up on her offer next year.
We both actually had tears in our eyes after our prayer time yesterday minutes before race start. I think we sensed a lot of “life” had happened since our last prayer time together. Lisa was pacing the 4:07 group this year. A few years back, I ran with her and managed to keep up until mile 17, but was nowhere near that pace this year. As the starting gun went off and I saw my friend leading her group, it was such a beautiful picture. She would encourage others over the next 26.2 miles and provide valuable coaching as she did for me. I have Lisa to thank for correcting my poor, inefficient arm swing. Who knew that a slight bend of the wrist could make a difference?
And just like that, on a gorgeous chilly but perfect morning, we were off. Me and 8,000 of my closest friends running my sixth CIM and 44th marathon.
I don’t always race with my iPod. Some of my best finishes were without music. This year I was feeling festive and added 20 Christmas songs to my playlist of 70. Just for fun, I try to aim for a total playtime close to my marathon goal time. Lately it’s been around 4:45ish. Then the goal becomes to cross the finish line before my last song ends.
When my girls were little, our December bedtime routine was to sing Christmas songs together. “O, Come All Ye Faithful” and “Hark, The Herald Angel Sings” were favorites. They would take turns requesting different Christmas tunes each night. Sometimes ending in arguments. So much for peace on earth, goodwill to men.
My personal fave is “Little Drummer Boy.” I found several upbeat versions done by groups I love including TobyMac, Pentatonix, and For King and Country. Alphabetically, the three versions were nicely spread apart on my playlist. Turns out they were perfectly spaced out.
I was feeling pretty good from the start which I have not always been able to say. After all, I was armed and dangerous with some key Scripture and tunes yesterday. Pacing was good. I’d even surprised myself a few miles and was wondering how long I could hold that pace or if I was going to regret it later. It’s been documented that there is an optimal BPM (beats per minute) for music used in enhancing runs. When I look back at my Garmin mile splits from yesterday, it’s not a coincidence that my best paced miles were run with certain songs. However, for me, it’s not always about the BPM. Often, it’s about the lyrics. My pump up jam yesterday was one line from my favorite Christmas song:
“I played my best for Him.”
Traditional, long-loved Christmas songs are really worship songs. And worship songs are really songs that help turn worry into wonderful. Yesterday, for 26.2 miles, I got to worship Jesus.
For 4:38.43, I was able to focus on just how good He is and lay my worries down on that pavement. I didn’t think about our businesses in Indiana with the newest restaurant opening in two weeks. I didn’t think about talking to my parents about the senior community I had visited last week. I didn’t think about my kids’ jobs and finals. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t praying for them during my race; I simply wasn’t allowing those thoughts to steal the joy of running God’s race. In fact, if there was a visible thought bubble over my head, you would see the words “Your race, Your pace” over and over again. As if to the beat of a drum.
Mile after mile, breath after breath, step by step, with each beat, I was closer to my goal: Honor Jesus in my race.
“So to honor Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
When we come.”
Which I modified to “When I run.”
“I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum
That’s fit to give the King.”
If you really think about it, what gifts could one possibly give to God? Even harder on a daily basis. Lately I’ve been struggling a lot with this – feeling like anything I do is eternally worthwhile. It’s been over three years since I left the classroom. Feels like a decade since my own kids truly “needed” me as they are now both adults. Empty house especially when Dave’s away on business. Meagan even took our beagle Oski off to college with her. Earlier this year, I resigned from a principal position. But if I really think about it, were ANY of those things fit to give God either? The danger in assigning worthiness to titles and tasks is that it is completely subjective. I am definitely a work in progress in allowing God to transform my notion of self-worth. However, yesterday’s race galvanized for me the fact that giving Him my best has very little to do with the actual job or task; it has everything to do with the heart and effort behind it.
“I played my best for Him, pa rum pum pum pum.”
Which I modified to “I ran my best for Him.”
I’ve spent many a blog post recounting how Jesus is in the details of races and training runs. But exactly HOW DETAILED is detailed? Detailed enough to provide that lone drummer boy at mile 18 exactly when this song came on:
“Then He smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum
Me and my drum.”
Which I modified to “Me and my run.”
