Hey, Run Club fam! Your first week training posts are giving me all the feels! The Run for God “Couch to Marathon” kick-off was last Sunday. It’s been good – and timely – for me to be reminded of how scary and daunting this commitment really is if you’re starting from ground zero. I will never forget my first run. My first mile. No training plan. No proper running shoes. No fancy Garmin watch. No Facebook. No run club. No idea what I was doing. I was literally tired of being tired, going to work and coming home every day drained of energy with nothing left to give my family. One day I decided enough is enough and went for a run to burn off the crazy after a frustrating week.

I knew the trails in our neighborhood like the back of my hand from walking our dog Oski countless times. I kind of knew approximate distances from one point to the next. But that day I set out to run a mile – without stopping – from my driveway to the park that was my usual rest stop with Oski. That mile changed me forever.

Like I said, I had no Garmin, so I have no clue how fast or slow I was going. All I remember is that my lungs were burning and my legs felt like concrete. I think I might’ve cried actual tears. Well, duh, that’s what happens when you have no training or body to back it up. This line from the movie “Top Gun” popped into my head:

“Son, your ego is writing checks your body can’t cash.”

I mean, c’mon, I was a strong swimmer. No problem swimming a mile at my own comfortable pace in nicely heated pool. Why did I think that meant I could run a mile?

Disbelief and frustration accompanied me home that day. As the three of us walked back up my driveway, anger was there waiting. I realized I was angry at myself. Angry for putting myself in this situation. Angry that I was in so much pain. Angry that my 41 year old body didn’t do what I wanted it to do. But somehow all that anger and frustration fueled me. I remember saying to myself “I never wanna feel this way again!”

Despite the agony of walking up four flights of stairs from the parking lot to my classroom the next day, the pain was a good motivator. You know what else is a good motivator? Your third graders asking “Mrs. Tang, are you okay? Are you crying?” as you walk them down those same stairs to recess and carpool.

The next few months, I bought new running shoes – shoes actually designed for running. True, they were off the sale rack at a local generic sporting goods store, and I didn’t even try them on. Ha, ha! But still, better than what I was running in prior.

This newfound passion and desire to get some sort of fitness monkey off my back quickly led to working out almost every day of the week, eating better, increasing mileage, and signing up for my first race – the See Jane Run Women’s Triathlon in September 2008. Swim a 1/4 mile, bike 11 miles, run a 5K. *The biking thing is a whole other story. Ironically, the leg I was most terrified of was the swim (my strength) since my first AND last swim event did not exactly go swimmingly. I was one of the last finishers in this one mile lake swim. My teenage daughter was waiting for me on shore at the finish chute with those words everyone wants to hear: “Mom, an 83 year old just finished four minutes before you.”

PSA #1: If you’re going to compete in a lake swim, you need to train in a lake.

Swimming in cold, murky, open water with hundreds of arms and legs thrashing around you and very little reference point for directionality is 100% nothing like swimming in a heated pool in your own lane at your gym. That day might’ve been the closest I’d come to genuinely thinking I was about to meet my Maker. That is until I started running marathons.

Back to that triathlon… Imagine my sheer joy, relief, and elation coming out of the lake that day as I ran to the transition area to start the biking segment. “I LIIIIIIIVVVE!!!” (Said in that Mushu the dragon from Mulan voice.) The rest of the race was a blur. I don’t remember any segment or finish time. All I know is I felt like I had just qualified for the Olympics. On the drive home, I had to tell someone. I called my good friend and colleague who had been praying for my race. “Pam, I did it! I did it! I finished!” She was thrilled for me.

Call it runner’s high, adrenaline, or whatever; but I had caught the race bug. I did four more triathlons after that first one before deciding that it’s really hard training for three different sports simultaneously. I switched my focus to running. And when I say “switched my focus,” I mean “became obsessed” with running. I always had a change of clothes and running shoes in the car so I was always prepared to get a run in after work or while the girls were at piano lessons. That was the best workout since their piano teacher lived at the peak of a hilly neighborhood. “Great! Hill training!” *A necessity and foreshadowing of the training I did not yet know I would need.

My very first run specific race was in my hometown of San Ramon – the Run Like the Wind Half Marathon on March 29, 2009. I ran it in a cotton t-shirt, regular shorts (the kind you might wear to a picnic), and my same discount pair of running shoes. Still no Garmin, no training plan leading up to it, no pre-race carbs, and no race hydration/fuel. I seriously don’t know how I managed to finish in 2:04. I remember feeling disappointed in myself – not about the finish time – but because I hadn’t studied the course map and thought the turn around after mile 11 was the finish and had gone all out at that point which left me hating life the whole last mile.

So many lessons. Yet I had no idea what was coming.

More determined than ever to do better next time, I hopped on my laptop and googled local races itching to sign up for another race. The San Francisco Marathon on July 26th popped up first in my search. A full marathon? Hmmm. It was Easter break. I got out my calendar and counted 16 weeks until the marathon. Then I googled marathon training plans. Hal Higdon dominated that search. Interesting that all his training plans from novice to advanced were 18 weeks. I printed out the novice level thinking it was doable since I was already running what was required 4-5 weeks into the plan. I remember it was then that I stared at this print out, sat back from my desk, and took a deep breath. I was excited and terrified. For the first time since starting this fitness journey, I knew without a doubt that the marathon was waaaaay beyond me. I mean, on paper, it was all mapped out for me. But something about that moment made me think “You are about to take a big leap into the unknown. It will take more time and discipline than you’ve ever committed. And now it’s not just about you.” I had to get Dave’s blessing which is very different from permission. But first, God’s. I asked Him for the green light. Back then I didn’t know enough about all that was involved to ask anything more specific. I got the green light. It was go time.

All was great and went according to plan until about week 11 when the long run was a 16 miler. You know those discount shoes I’d bought that I didn’t bother to try on first? I was starting to get some pain in my shins and plantar. I bought some new shoes – this time I tried them on before buying them. That seemed to help along with doing stretches which I didn’t think I needed until too late.

PSA #2: Don’t wait until you’re in pain to stretch.

Excited to take my new shoes on the road, I quickly hopped right back in the saddle and tried to make up for some lost mileage due to the shin/plantar thing. Two weeks later on what should’ve been an 18 miler, I felt a new excruciating pain in my right outer knee 10 miles in. Boys and girls, let’s say it together: “Iliotibial Band Syndrome.” That was a painful 2 mile walk back to the car. It never occurred to me after that to take a rest day. What? And throw off whole my training plan? What would Hal say? I bought a knee brace instead. Someone should have smacked some sense into me at that point. Long story short, my longest run in this whole marathon training was short of the plan. I only got as far as 15 miles. Why did I think I could still do this?

Surprisingly, my knee held up and didn’t hurt too badly the weeks leading up to the marathon. The week before race day, I had pre-race dreams. Nightmares actually. Like the kind where I fall off the Golden Gate Bridge, or worse, I don’t even make the cutoff and race officials turn me away from the bridge. Race morning came. The sun hadn’t come up yet. I was navigating my way through thousands of runners, vendor tents, and bag drop-off trucks looking for my start corral which was considerably far back from the actual start line. I think I was Wave 7, a good forty minutes after the elite start of 5:30 am. Nerves and cold temps meant another trip to the porta-potties. I thought I had time to hop in one of the shorter lines before my wave start. I mean, really, did I have choice at that point? As I’m standing there in what initially appeared to be a short line, I hear the race announcer over the PA announcing Wave 5, and a few minutes later, Wave 6. Not only am I now doing the potty dance in line, I’m panicking thinking I’m gonna miss my wave start. An eternity later, I get my turn in the porta-potty then sprint to my start corral only to be stopped by race personnel redirecting me to the next wave since mine had just left. That nightmare I had about not making the cut-off time for the Golden Gate Bridge flashed before my eyes. I hopped into the mass of Wave 8 runners, and five minutes later I was crossing the timing mat of my very first marathon.

As with many marathon newbies, I got caught up in the adrenaline rush of the start as well as thinking I had to make up time for missing my wave even though it’s chip timed which means your clock doesn’t begin until you actually cross the timing mat. I had invested in a Garmin a few weeks prior and steadily checked my pace in between taking in the iconic San Francisco scenery which, rightfully so, draws many out of state and international runners. Around mile 3, runners get their first glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge typically shrouded by dense fog. My heart skipped a beat at the sight. I was ahead of my goal pace going up that first big hill leading to the bridge entrance. The San Francisco Marathon is the only race that closes down two lanes of traffic to runners. Unbeknownst to me of what a pace group was, I had been keeping up with the 4:30 group and enjoyed the pace leader’s humor as well as free coaching. This man never broke stride nor was he out of breath as he announced to our pace group that the hill was merely a speed bump. He also said to pull your shoulders back and puff your chest out to make room in your lungs for more oxygen going up the hill. Made sense. If my mom could see me now. She’s been trying to get me to stop slouching my whole life. It took a South African runner who’d just completed a 100 mile race through Europe a week ago to convince me.

The relief and sheer joy I felt when I realized I’d made the bridge cutoff time was overwhelming. It made up for the fact that it was so foggy, I could not see the bay below me (so much for those world famous views). I had to be extra careful as the road was wet and slick. I’m a bit scared of heights, so staying to the left farthest from the bridge railing was the plan; however, that’s where the faster runners live, so I had to go faster than I probably should have.

The other half of my nightmare did not materialize as I didn’t fall into the bay and was now exiting the bridge to start an exhilarating stretch of scenic downhill on the approach to Golden Gate Park. I had no business going the pace I was going down mile 10, but I did. Everything felt good, even my right knee in it’s cumbersome giant knee brace. The views were spectacular – so much so that a few runners stopped to take photos. I definitely passed judgement when I saw them. “Hey, this is a race, ya know! You can be a tourist another day. There goes your PR.” Spoiler alert: those same runners passed me a few miles later.

Golden Gate Park is the finish line of the half marathon if you chose to run the beginning 13.1 miles of the course. It’s also the start line of the second half. Full marathoners run both. At this point, I was feeling the effects of going faster than my goal pace. My quads were also expressing their disapproval of my downhill sprint. Combine that with the mental grind of having to run past the hoopla, medals, and celebration of the half marathon finish knowing you have 13.1 more miles to run, and you’ve got one disheartened runner.

The next scene was surreal. An actual blur. Dozens of lean, muscular, chiseled bodies literally blew past me. Almost stopped me in my tracks. Was I even still running? I was slightly confused at that point until I realized it was the elite runners who’d just started the second half marathon course. The next few waves of runners were definitely not slouches either. My own pace had slowed down significantly by mile 15. In my mind I rationalized to myself “Good thing I banked some fast miles early on.”

PSA #3: Banking fast miles will only lead to misery later on.

Later came sooner.

Everything hurt by mile 16. I think even my hair hurt. I wish I could say I enjoyed the rest of the Golden Gate Park scenery, but I was now focused on managing pain. And pride. Swallowing that along with some GU energy gels and Advil was not easy. I hadn’t walked at all at that point and was determined not to but was reduced to a slow shuffle. In my mind, walking was quitting. *Side note: I now understand the wisdom and mechanics of how run/walk can be a solid, healthier race strategy.

I’ll spare you the tedious details of miles 17 to 22.

My blogsite name is “Running God’s Race” based on Hebrews 12:1. However, I didn’t start embracing and incorporating key verses into my running until several years after that first marathon. Of course, I prayed a whole lot and with tremendous fervor at times. I’d never been great at memorizing Scripture despite telling folks they should, leading many a Bible study, and teaching in a Christian elementary school. So when a bright yellow shirt with distinct black lettering suddenly appeared from nowhere at mile 22, I knew God was not only answering my cries (no, not the ones to end my misery and take me home) but doing so with His very Word at exactly the right time. The bright yellow shirt was simple with TEAM 4:13 written across the top. Underneath was Philippians 4:13 which I never thought would mean as much to me as it did at that moment running through the famous Haight Ashbury district:

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

My heart quickened as did my pace. I had to keep up with the yellow shirted runner. It was as if God sent me my own personal pacer. I kept my eyes focused on the words written on the back of that runner’s shirt. In retrospect, he probably thought I was some sort of creeper or trying to draft behind him since I was running close enough behind that he could hear me breathing.

I stayed with him for almost two miles and was both surprised and disappointed he stopped before the mile 24 marker to hydrate. I was imagining an epic dramatic finish as I crossed the last timing mat with that famous verse leading me in. As I passed this runner (who has no idea how he’s just impacted my race), I said “Love your shirt! Praying for you, bro!” He looked up, mustered a smile, and looked back down at his shoes seemingly in pain. I continued to say that verse over and over whilst praying for this fellow runner to finish strong.

I thought surely this was the booster jet I needed to carry me gracefully across the finish. Alas, the pain and misery came in greater waves as the bay fog had lifted and temps had risen. The race was no longer about miles but now about putting one foot in front of the other. It felt like an eternity until the next mile marker. The turn after mile 25 revealed a glorious sight. I’m not a baseball fan, but AT&T Park on a sunny day signifying the last mile of your first marathon is quite a sight to behold. The ball park on your left, the shimmering San Francisco Bay on your right, and the mile 26 marker up ahead… I might’ve cried happy tears at that point.

I distinctly remember saying to myself “I’m never doing this again!” The excruciating pain briefly eclipsed by the joy of crossing the finish line was only the beginning. No one told me about post-race muscle soreness. Or that I should really make it a point to walk around the days to follow. I never thought there could be pain that rivaled childbirth. I was wrong.

Funny thing, I didn’t think I’d have another child after the labor pains of the first. But when you’re holding this incredible, beautiful, living, breathing miracle of a mini person for which you waited and prepared almost nine months, somehow all the pain is forgotten. Dare I say, that is the case with the marathon. I not only signed up for another marathon shortly after, but went on to finish 10 more San Francisco marathons plus others all over the state and country for a total of 54 to date. All of them completed through Christ who gives me strength.

The point of today’s blogpost: to remember the pain is worth it.

Friends, whether it’s training for a marathon, parenting, marriage, career, ministry, or relationships, they all had to start somewhere and probably all began with passion and enthusiasm but were inevitably met with some form of discouraging, at times, painful challenges.

It’s been said that running a marathon is the greatest metaphor for life. It’s also been said that it doesn’t get easier; you get stronger.

I started this whole blogging thing fall of 2014 as a result of how God has coached me through a whole lot of “races” aka chapters in my life since giving me the green light on that first marathon. I absolutely love that the New King James version of Hebrews 12:2 says that Jesus is the AUTHOR and FINISHER of our faith! He has written, illustrated, punctuated, edited, and revised the way I train and run each race. This blogpost is Chapter 80. As a good friend pointed out last year, these chapters have become less about my actual running and more about, well…life. Paralleling faith and endurance. Hmmm…where have I seen that before?

Heading into Week 2 of Couch to Marathon training, may you be encouraged even if you have NO CLUE what shoes, socks, leggings, sports watch, energy drinks, running surfaces are best OR if you should run through injury or a cold OR you’re scared taking a rest day will throw your whole training off OR what pace/distance is best for your current fitness level OR it feels like others are progressing faster. BE ENCOURAGED in the fact that as we approach our first marathon from different places in life, we all begin in the same way. One step at a time. One mile at a time…