For Mother’s Day this year, I ran marathon #55 in my mom’s honor. It was a picture perfect spring day at the Morton Arboretum in Lisle, Illinois where my daughter lives. The plan was to do the 7.5 miles of the paved East and West routes 3.5 times around with my car parked conveniently in between serving as my lone aid station. The first loop was glorious. It was everything I had hoped it would be complete with sprays of soft purple trees everywhere the eye could see reminding me of mom as she loved purple.

I was overcome with emotion and wished I’d brought my sunglasses to hide the tears streaming down my face. I spent most of loop one praising and worshipping the One who created this beautiful setting and being reminded with every mile of how He cares for “the birds in the sky and lilies of the field” and how much more He cares for me.

As planned, I tore into a GU energy gel at mile 6 then stopped at my “aid station” after that first 7.5 miles put down half a can of coconut water. Onward to loop two.

Business as usual. After all, this wasn’t my first rodeo. I asked God to help me notice things on each loop that I hadn’t previously. Purple magnolias, a crabapple tree statue, low hanging fragrant white flowers. How did I miss these the first time? I also thought about how mom would’ve enjoyed this arboretum. She used to love taking the grandkids to the arboretum in our home town whenever we visited. Lots of other fond memories of mom and even some funny ones popped up along the way as I approached mile 14 and my third energy gel. I was now really looking forward to my next aid station stop as the quads and calves seemed to start tightening up. I needed salt. I got to my car and ate a couple of handfuls of salted mixed nuts and took in more water.

I had made good time and kept a consistent pace for the first half of the marathon. Confession: I hate miles 15-17. It’s at this point in almost every one of my previous 54 marathons I’ve wanted to quit or prayed Jesus would come right then and there. This is the part of the race when the honeymoon is over. Even at the peak of my running fitness, I mentally and emotionally loathed these next miles. There’s just so much race still to run and no end in sight. Don’t get me started on those well-meaning spectators who cheer “ALMOST THERE!” when you’re not even close.

I dunno what it was about yesterday’s run, but it was almost as if I had checked out after mile 17 or so of loop three. The tank was now empty on every level. It was new territory for me perhaps because this was my first time using my car as an aid station which now became my biggest temptation to quit. Maybe that made it easy to rationalize: “Had I accomplished what I had set out to do which was remember my mom?” “She wouldn’t want me to continue this suffer fest!”

“WHY AM I STILL OUT HERE?” “WHAT’S THE POINT?”

The weather turned from clear, sunny, and ideal running temp to cloudy, cold, and windy. Headwind, of course. I was really glad I wore layers and put my long sleeve tech shirt back on. I’m still trying to get used to layering on runs since moving from California to Indiana last year.

I had to dig deep into my arsenal of Bible verses that I usually wield when things get tough during races. During a section of loop three and probably three miles of just repeating verses over and over, the Holy Spirit reminded me of Psalm 121 prompting me to look up through a very tall forested section of the road to see a leaf covering that was literally glowing.

“I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.”

The sky was clear again. It was completely quiet except for the gentle rustling of leaves from a slight breeze. “Be still and know that I am God” came to mind. But how can I be still whilst continuing to run? You quiet your mind of distracting thoughts is how. You continue to wield the Sword of the Spirit with verses like “Take captive every thought to the obedience of Christ Jesus.” You praise Him every time your Garmin beeps another mile done. You declare God has authority over the next mile and submit that mile to Him – one mile at a time, every mile.

One of the best marathon surprises is when you think you’re at a certain mile but then you look at your watch and it’s one mile more than you thought! Such was the case as I reached mile 20. Conversely, when you think it’s a certain mile and it’s less, you kinda wanna cry.

They say the marathon doesn’t really start until mile 20. “They” are not wrong. Many times I’ve said to myself “I just need to get to mile 20; then I know I can make it to the finish!” There’s nothing magical about crossing mile 20; however, something does kinda click – for good and sometimes bad – at that point.

The good: You know you’ve prepared and trained for a solid 10k and tell yourself these last six miles are just like another mid week run. You focus on that place you are familiar with even though you’re actually entering into unknown territory since your longest run was likely only 18-20 miles. Don’t think about that part! Think about what you know and how to get there. You’ve done this distance SO many times! From my driveway, through our neighborhood, past several kiddie parks, past my girls’ high school, up over that hill I love to hate, then back home with a strong finishing kick.

The bad: Happened yesterday. I felt horrible those last six miles. It wasn’t even all physical pain. I think I was emotionally done-zo. Another confession: I almost forgot my Garmin leaving the hotel in the morning, and it crossed my mind that since it’s a virtual, self-supported race, NO ONE WOULD EVER KNOW if I didn’t actually run the entire 26.2 miles! Right?

The advantage of having parked my car conveniently in the middle of my course loop was easy access to my race hydration and nutrition. The disadvantage was knowing I could hop in my car at any point, call it a day, and no one would know. I’m not talking about cheating – I’m talking about ending misery and cutting a race short because self-preservation was now priority number one.

Yesterday was my third self-supported marathon since Covid began. The previous two were run on local out-and-back trails. No choice but to run the entire distance when you have to somehow get back to the car. Yesterday was my first marathon with a multiple loop course.

You wanna know what kept me going those last few miles yesterday? ACCOUNTABILITY. Not a PR. Not a medal. Not bragging rights.

The last few weeks on the Run for God Run Club Facebook group page I’ve read several posts by C2M (Couch to Marathon) members sharing everything from discouragement and frustration to desperation and perceived failure. During yesterday’s run, I thought a lot about one post in particular from a couple of days ago in which the member shared that she and her husband were discouraged with their lack of progress and did not think they would make it through the whole program.

I wrestled with whether to reply on this particular post because I realized when I first read it that I didn’t have a good answer. I actually felt ill-equipped to provide any sort of productive running advice or even minimal amount of spiritual encouragement. It wasn’t until the last two miles of my suffer fest to the finish line yesterday that it hit me:

I’m accountable to Jesus and need to finish this race SO that I can encourage others.

Not a coincidence last week’s key Scripture from 2 Corinthians 4:7-18 MSG [emphasis mine] in my Bible study group focused on the purpose of sharing in Christ’s suffering:

“If you only look at us, you might well miss the brightness. We carry this precious Message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That’s to prevent anyone from confusing God’s incomparable power with us…

We’ve been surrounded and battered by troubles, but we’re not demoralized; we’re not sure what to do, but we know that God knows…

While we’re going through the worst, you’re getting in on the best!

We’re not keeping this quiet, not on your life.

And what we believe is that the One who raised up the Master Jesus will just as certainly raise us up with you, alive. Every detail works to your advantage and to God’s glory: more and more grace, more and more people, more and more praise! So we’re not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There’s far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever.”

It all makes sense now! What God allows us to experience is not only for our benefit but for benefit of others! I mean I knew that intellectually, but God illustrated this lesson for me yesterday right there during my lowest point of my marathon. God’s purpose for me finishing what we’d set out to do that morning was so I could encourage others to do the same – persevere ESPECIALLY when we don’t want to or when we don’t see the point!

One of the lessons God taught me when I was a third grade teacher has proven to be a reliable source of replenishment – dare I say better than any energy gel or drink – whenever I hit “the wall” or wanna give up. It was the Jacob and Esau lesson in which Esau, in his greatest moment of weakness, traded his birthright for a bowl of lentil stew. A bowl of lentil stew? Really? Even if you’re a huge fan of lentils, how desperate do you need to be to give up your future place in history, your legacy, and all the privilege that comes with it, for this momentary, temporary, fleeting hunger fix? When I used to be obsessed with diets and weight loss, the mantra was “A moment on the lips, forever on the hips.” My third graders had a little more compassion for Esau than I did as they reasoned that he probably thought he was about to die anyway, so what good is a birthright to him at that point?

Yesterday at around mile 24, I repeated over and over again the same four words I’ve said at this point in previous marathons: “DON’T BE AN ESAU!” In other words, don’t give in to the temporary pain! Don’t cheat yourself out of what God has in store for you! Don’t trade what God wants to give you for temporary relief! Don’t give up the glorious finish to the race God marked out for you! Don’t forsake what God wants to birth in you!”

Today being my first Mother’s Day without my mom, I’m thankful for how God allowed me to learn all these poignant lessons as I ran my marathon in my mom’s honor.