It goes all the way back to fourth grade math class. My earliest recollection of not “getting it.” I don’t remember the exact concepts that earned me a ticket on the math struggle bus, but I’m pretty sure it had something to do with trains arriving at different times and the rate at which bathtubs would fill equally. Now that I’m thinking about it, word problems really were my demise:

“Irene consumed 10 energy gels during her race. She had 2 more chocolate than peanut butter and two-thirds that number in salted caramel. How many of each flavor did she consume ?

“Irene spent $40 on energy gels. She paid using $10, $5, and $1 bills. If she gave the salesperson ten bills in all, how many of each bill did she use?”

That whole guess-and-check strategy for solving problems always seemed counter intuitive.  And throwing in WORDS? Math was supposed to just be about numbers.

My dad is the exact opposite of me. He’s a numbers guy. A retired engineer and former stock market enthusiast. Measure twice, cut once type. Oil change exactly as the odometer hits the next 3,000 mark. If I tell him it’s a warm day with a high of 85, he’ll respond “Naw, I’d say 83.” Or if I’m supposed to be at his house at 5:30, my phone will ring at 5:31 as I’m turning into his driveway. He’s also the one who, after a long days work, sat for hours at the kitchen table with me months before my SAT’s helping me with – what else – math. He was convinced that if we put in the time and effort my math score would go up 100 points which he had researched as being the minimum necessary number for me to get into my dream school.

Funny thing, my math SAT score did improve by exactly 100 points from my previous attempt. Thanks to my dad and his help conquering my math nemesis, I did get into my dream school: UCLA! GO BRUINS! Good thing, since I only applied to one college. What are the odds?! That blows my mind as I’ve heard my own kids tell me about friends who applied to thirty or more schools as well as reading this in sources such as forbes.com. If you’re into numbers, I found this clip in prepscholar.com:

“The standard thinking from counselors has been that the average college-bound student should apply to about 6-8 colleges: 2-3 reach colleges, 2-3 target colleges, and 2 safety schools. Reach schools are colleges that are unlikely to offer you admission (less than a 30% chance), target schools are colleges that you have a decent chance of gaining admission to (a 30%-80% chance), and safety schools are colleges to which you’re almost guaranteed of admission based on your qualifications (greater than a 80% chance).”

Mind blowing, right?!

Oddly enough, when I taught third grade, math was one of my favorite subjects to teach. As a runner, I loved using run-related object lessons. Like this lesson on decimals and place value:

“If John ran his 5k in 33:01 and Judy ran her’s in 33:10, who finished faster?”

Or when students gave me grief about how it looked like I ate candy bars all the time when really they were disgusting protein bars. One day during a lesson on multiplication arrays, I decided to dispel this third grade myth once and for all. I unwrapped one of my more unpleasant tasting high protein bars and proceeded to cut it into four rows of six under the document camera for all 24 students to see. Then I evenly distributed one piece to each student to sample. As I predicted, 99% of the 24 were now convinced their teacher was not eating candy bars all day. Of that 99%, one third experienced gag reflex. And of that one third, two rushed for the trash can. Standard deviation of +/-1. Because there’s always that one kid.

Who says I’m not a numbers person?

Most recently I made the decision to be more intentional about numbers. I used to be more diligent about logging mile splits and all training run stats. If I’m being 100% honest, I simply got complacent the last couple of years. I became content with “just finishing” a run. I didn’t wear my Garmin most of the time and just guesstimated how I did. Don’t get me wrong, there’s value in just getting out there and running without the pressure of time and performance. But when I’ve made it the norm rather than the exception and still have hopes of improving race times, something doesn’t equate.

Whether you’re an avid runner or not, common sense tells you that pacing and practicing the speed you hope to race are things you need to do on a regular basis. Well, I kind of threw common sense along with number sense out the window the last couple of years. With this being the start of 2018 and God using some life-changing circumstances this month to shake me up out of my complacency, I am happy to report that I’ve made progression and speed training a priority again as well as logging all my stats for analysis and accountability. And yes, becoming more of a numbers person.

Perhaps I have swung way over to the other direction with this numbers thing, but hey, when your average mile pace just happens to be 10:10 reminding you of that verse in John about God’s overflowing abundant plans for your life AND a runner friend brings up precisely the same verse that day, it’s not just a good thing – it’s a God thing.

“I came that they may have and enjoy life, and have it in abundance [to the full, till it overflows].” AMP

God often takes a completely discouraging, even devastating, anxiety-ridden day and turns it around in the least expected ways. He did so on January 8th at a Warriors home game by reminding me of this Word for solving problems:

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” NIV

This verse from Philippians 4:6 was prominently displayed on the iPhone home screen of the Steph Curry fan sitting in front of me. I immediately felt the tension of the day disappear almost as quickly as my bowl of Slam Dunk Nachos. The words DO NOT BE ANXIOUS kept playing in my head for the rest of the game.

I might’ve cheered extra loudly for Steph, Klay (aka Splash Brothers) and Green (season high 23 points/10 assists) that night as their performances did not disappoint, but maybe it was also the fact that God was letting me know “THE REAL GAME” is in His hands.

I went home that night and tried to re-create my own version of Philippians 4:6 for my iPhone home screen. I found a peaceful, scenic trail photo which reminded me of the many times during races that Jesus has shown me I can trust Him because He alone knows what’s around the next turn and up the next climb.

As for those progression runs, so far I’ve been hitting 3% to 10% faster times on each of my laps around the Lafayette Reservoir. I know it’s statistically improbable and practically impossible to hit exact numbers in running all the time. But one thing is 100% possible, 24/7/365, with no standard deviation and no guessing: God’s abundant peace.

 

 

Those four little words captured my attention a few weeks ago as I scrolled through my Instagram feed. They were the theme of several local churches for December and were penned in beautiful fonts against the background of starry night skies, rustic manger scenes, and snow capped tree boughs.

It was on a run, of course, that God took those four words out of my IG feed and reformatted them as a question to me:

“Does hope thrill you?”

He didn’t ask it in a condemning tone. Just matter of factly.

I spent most of that day’s run pondering His question. My answer was really another question directed at myself. “Am I THRILLED about the message of hope?” And for that matter, “What is it about this season of the year that thrills me?” I started to list off stuff in my head. My train of thought went off in many directions from the gift of salvation to Christmas shopping to race PR’s. And then it occurred to me that perhaps I was confusing “thrill” with “adrenaline rush.”

I mean really, if you asked people to list their top ten of what thrills them, I’m willing to bet the birth of baby Jesus would not make the cut. Now since it’s December – with so many images and reminders about Jesus being the reason for the season – maybe the percentage would be higher. But what about the other eleven months of the year?

Back to those four words…I couldn’t put my finger on their origin until last Wednesday when I met up with some friends for our usual prayer walk in Central Park. I felt more excitement than usual perhaps in anticipation of Christmas just four days away and that it was our last prayer walk of 2017.  What is a prayer walk you ask? It is exactly that – a time to walk and pray. No agenda. Except to set aside the busyness of the day and draw closer to God’s heart for the areas He wants us to cover in prayer.

These “walks” seem to naturally begin with praise and thanksgiving as we take in the seasonal beauty of the trees, hear toddlers playing in the distance, see teenagers catching air in the skateboard park, and feel the wind blowing the flags outside City Hall. Flags that seemed to be flying at half mast more often than not in 2017. All the more reason for our weekly prayer walks.

As my friends and I rounded the connecting middle school track, I couldn’t stand it any more. I had to ask “Where are those words from?” I wasn’t sure if it was Scripture or a Christmas song.  All three of us simultaneously did that thing you do when you’re not sure the order of letters in the alphabet – you start from the beginning and sing the whole thing:

“O holy night the stars are brightly shining
It is the night of our dear Savior’s birth
Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth

A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks a new glorious morn
Fall on your knees
O hear the angels’ voices
O night divine
O night when Christ was born
O night divine o night
O night divine”

Boom! There it was. In a song that I’ve heard every year since I could utter the word “Christmas” as well as dozens of times this month on the radio and even my own iPod playlist. How did I miss it all this time, all these years?

After realizing the context of  the words “a thrill of hope,” the remainder of our walk moved in the direction of praying for “souls to feel their worth” as the song expresses so poignantly. As well as the hope that when you truly know your worth in God’s eyes, the magnitude of the Savior’s birth will drop you to your knees. We prayed this for our city leaders, employees in the surrounding office buildings, school administrators, students, families, local businesses, local churches, pastors, government, and even (or especially) the teenagers catching air.

When I think about all the times those City Hall flags have been at half mast in 2017 alone, it is discouraging. But each time, the wind would cause those flags to unfurl – sometimes fiercely – so you could still visually distinguish their representation of city, state, and country. Perhaps this is an object lesson capturing a snapshot of God’s heart and how I need to respond when I hear His heartbeat: thrilled with hope. After all, without hope, our prayers have no effect. They’re just words. Like flags without the wind.

Over the years, I’ve learned to take God at His Word quite literally. I can’t help it; He made it too easy with all the running references. This Christmas, the account of the shepherds RUNNING to see baby Jesus in Luke 2 (MSG) changed my perspective on “a thrill of hope.”

‘“Let’s get over to Bethlehem as fast as we can and see for ourselves what God has revealed to us.” They left, running, and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in the manger.’

[Later on] “The sheepherders returned and let loose, glorifying and praising God for everything they had heard and seen. It turned out exactly the way they’d been told!”

Earlier I said that I was confusing “thrill” with “adrenaline rush.” But what if God intends for the thrill of hope in Him to also give you an adrenaline rush? Those shepherds experienced the trifecta of adrenaline rushes that Christmas Day by hearing the angels proclamation, running a PR to see the Savior of the World, and telling everyone about the thrill of hope they’d just personally witnessed!

This may not go down as recommended speed training by most running coaches, but I actually did this the other day: ran like I’d just heard the Savior had been born. Yep, I pictured my finish line as the stable with baby Jesus and ran all out until I got there. I think I might’ve even pushed passed a few shepherds along the way.

As I wrap up 2017, there’s much for which I’m thankful and hopeful. My prayer going into the new year is to be SO thrilled with the things God reveals to me that I can’t help but run and tell everyone.

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.”

Once again, my kids will be rolling their eyes at my need to turn EVERY life circumstance into a running metaphor or saying “It’s a God thing.” Some call it obsession. I call it passion. It’s a matter of perspective.

This time we were at Disneyland. All four of us. On a beautiful, crisp mid-November holiday. It had been almost a decade since we last braved the crowds and meticulously strategized FastPass procurement. As customary, we headed straight for the Space Mountain ticket dispensers. As expected, the FastPass return time was for much later in the day – 9:30pm to 10:30pm was our window of opportunity to enjoy the most popular ride in the park without waiting 75 minutes in line. And then at 1:15 the ticket indicated a FastPass would be available for another ride which, of course, would be Indiana Jones with a return time of 5:55pm. This went on until we maxed out on all the good rides.  That’s how we spent the first half of our day in the Magic Kingdom.

In between  acquiring FastPasses, we managed to find rides with “only” 40 minute wait times. But what is a family to do whilst standing in line together for 40 minutes? I can easily spend 40 minutes on my own getting caught up on social media. We probably could’ve each resorted to private screen time as the remedy for Disney line survival; however, I think we all sensed we could do better than that. I think it was Natalie who said “too bad we don’t have the Heads-Up game.”

I promptly said “Wait, I do!” and wasted no time in opening up the app on my phone and placing it on my forehead for my family to say, hum, gesture, or sing out clues so I could guess the word displayed on the screen. The following 39 minutes seemed to fly by as our family interacted together in a way we haven’t since the girls were too short to ride Space Mountain.

I like to think that Dave and I passed down a few admirable traits to our daughters, but the trait that proved most advantageous at the next 40+ minute lines was our competitiveness. Let’s just say that we all brought our A-game and would not settle for sub par Heads-Up performances. To those innocent bystanders whom we entertained in the Matterhorn line – you’re welcome.

Can I just stop right here and say that I’ve never had so much fun waiting in line? And really, the whole day was waiting in lines interspersed with a few rides as well as meticulously maneuvering our way through the most crowds I’ve ever seen at Disneyland in my 44 years of visiting.

But wait, it gets better. So, we headed over at 5:55 for our Indiana Jones FastPass time slot. Breezed through the line to that point where you’re about to board the ride and the movie video clip introduction went black followed by a cast member announcing the ride had to be “indefinitely discontinued.” Translation: a kid probably barfed and they had to clean it up. Whatever the case, everyone had to promptly exit. On the bright side, we were not the ones who just stood in line 75 minutes or the poor kid in front of us who was so excited about finally being tall enough to go on this ride now visibly disappointed but trying very hard not to cry. Which made us all a little teary-eyed.

Oh, Disney…the emotions you evoke.

But more bright side, they gave us new FastPasses for any ride of our choice at any time. We were just saying that we wanted to check out the Haunted Mansion but the line was way too long. We were now able to hop on over there and breeze through that line as well to successfully enjoy their “Nightmare before Christmas” version of the ride. I have to confess that it was not as bad as I imagined it would be as I’ve never been a Haunted Mansion or Halloween fan. In fact, I don’t think we’ve ever gone on this ride as a family since I thought it would give my kids nightmares when they were little which in turn would give me mom guilt for the rest of my life.

As we exited the Haunted Mansion and headed toward our next destination, we had to pass by Indiana Jones. I thought it would be really funny if it “happened” to re-open right when we showed up.

And it did.

We practically had to run through this line of no people as it went THAT fast. And so we got to go on one of our favorite rides after all, and we think we even saw the little boy from earlier finally get to go on it as well.

It was at that moment I couldn’t help it. I said it out loud to my family. “That was such a God thing!” I couldn’t see their faces, but I could feel my kids’ eyes rolling. But I didn’t care.

The truth of the matter is that all day I had been saying that in my heart. This just happened to be the first time I said it out loud. And I said it again when the Blue Bayou restaurant had a dinner opening for us after being booked solid for weeks. We didn’t even have to eat at 10:45pm.

God uses so many ways and means to get our attention. I have often missed the clues and later smacked my own forehead saying “Duh, how did I not get that?” It’s like that Heads-Up game. God can say it, hum it, sing it, and act it out for us…sometimes we still don’t get it.

The truth is that there is not one second of the day that’s not His thing.

The same applies to races (finally – the running analogy!) as He so clearly illustrated at this year’s Carmel Marathon.

It was late April and I had just completed a grueling but exhilarating 50K trail race the week before as well as come off of a few months of injury. I had registered for the marathon almost a year ago and was looking forward to running this course for the third year in a row. My course PR was 4:18 which at the time I was not happy with and blamed the warm weather. This year’s race had the cold temps I had been hoping for that first year. Ideal race conditions except for the fact that I was not in ideal race condition. It crossed my mind to downgrade to the half marathon, but pride wouldn’t allow it. Go big or go home, right? After all, I didn’t fly all the way to Indiana to drop to a shorter distance.

I admit I felt sluggish those first few miles. My fifty year old body was feeling the three hour time zone change and 50K hills from a week ago. At the mile 11 marker, I said to myself “This was a bad idea.” After passing the half marathon turn around point, I was definitely lamenting not downgrading when I had the chance. Too late now. You know what else I lamented? Dinner the night before. Two porta-potty stops leading up to mile 13 were the result. A few years ago, this would’ve been devastating as stopping even once might’ve made a difference in PR’ing or not. This year the goal was JUST FINISH – but it wouldn’t happen without one of the toughest mental battles ever.

At mile 14, it crossed my mind that if Dave happened to be driving by I would jump in the car and call it a day. No! I’ve never DNF’ed and was not about to – not today, not ever! It was then that I realized I had spent the last 14 miles whining and focused on how miserable I was feeling. I told Jesus how sorry I was for making this whole thing about me and “my race.” And for forgetting about ALL the times He has been so faithful in providing exactly what I needed at precisely the right moments. And for His healing me so that I could run an incredible 50K with Him and the most stunning views that HE created that I got to enjoy less than a week ago.

So from mile 14.5, in my heart and mind I made it all about God’s race and looking for ways to praise Jesus.

Mile 15 turned onto a tree-lined trail after being on roadway and residential streets. I suddenly felt an adrenaline rush and my legs picked up. I started noticing the peaceful, inviting canopy of trees ahead. Cool breezes accompanied me. I don’t remember much else about the race leading up to mile 23 – except that I was joking with God about finishing under the five hour mark. At that point, it would be nothing short of a miracle to finish sub-5.

I had only checked my Garmin once the whole race which was at mile 13 to verify if I was indeed going as slowly as I thought. Garmin doesn’t lie when it comes to pace and time. Sometimes I wish it would. At mile 23 I looked at my Garmin the same way one looks at a scale or credit card bill after Christmas – expecting the worst. To my shock, I was on pace to finish under 5 hours. I also ran into a friend at mile 24 who cheered me on. I was pumped. I ran the fastest mile splits those last three miles and had such a great time praising and worshiping Jesus that I was almost sorry to see the finish line. Almost.

There it was. The elusive finish line. Hours and days ago seemed so far away but now a mere fifty steps or so to go. I told Jesus, “I just wanna finish under 5 hours.” I could now see the race clock and hear the announcer. The clock was gun time not chip time, and I had not looked at my Garmin since mile 23. Right before my shoe hit the timing pad, I saw my time and heard the announcer: “Irene Tang from California coming in at 4:59.59!”

The volunteers handing out the medals and bottled water heard it as well. We all laughed together as one placed my medal around my neck then high-fived me.

When I think back to what it took to go precisely 4:59.59, I can’t help but smile. I love God’s sense of humor and precision in answering the cries of our hearts. One more or one less tick on the clock would not have mattered in the grand scheme of things, but God knew how much it would mean to me. And how we’d laugh about that moment and that race for a long time.

I was now thankful for the line at the porta-potties and questionable dinner. I was thankful for the colder than expected temps. I was thankful my friend and I stopped for a hug at mile 24. I was thankful for our two restaurants on Main Street that “just happen” to be along mile 26 which motivated me even more for fear that I would look like I’m dying in front of our employees.

Every second mattered.

I never thought I’d be over-the-moon about a five hour marathon when my goal for years was sub-four with hopes of a Boston qualifying time. Funny that I feel more content about this finish than my actual career PR of 4:13 in 2013. I picture God and I playing that Heads-Up game, and the word I’m holding up but can’t see is “CONTENT.”

The lengths that God went through so I could see it, say it, and know it first hand.

Whether it’s a grueling marathon or endless line at Disneyland, He knows and does what it takes for us to clue in. Some days it takes a few more clues. But He’ll never stop. He never gives up.

It must be a God-thing.

“…I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” Philippians 4:12-13 NIV

“But from there you will seek the Lord your God, and you will find Him if you seek Him with all your heart and with all your soul.” Deuteronomy 4:29 NKJV

“O Lord, you have examined my heart
and know everything about me.
You know when I sit down or stand up.
You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.
You see me when I travel
and when I rest at home.
You know everything I do.
You know what I am going to say
even before I say it, Lord.
You go before me and follow me.
You place your hand of blessing on my head.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too great for me to understand!
I can never escape from your Spirit!
I can never get away from your presence!”
Psalm 139:1-7 NLT

“For everything, absolutely everything, above and below, visible and invisible, rank after rank after rank of angels—everything got started in him and finds its purpose in him. He was there before any of it came into existence and holds it all together right up to this moment.” Colossians 1:17 MSG

 

It was the theme of a devotional I’d read last month. Since then, I’ve been thinking about how that would look in everyday life…and in running, of course.

When I think about what it means to “make Jesus famous,” I think about athletes who credit their victories and accomplishments to God. I’m talking about the “big time” athletes who have won Heismans, Super Bowls, NBA Championships, Boston Marathons, etc.

With confetti still raining down and sweat soaked uniforms, during post-game/race interviews they attribute their wins to Jesus, Lord and Savior. Boom! There it is. The name of Jesus proclaimed before millions of viewers nationally and worldwide. Not in a church. Not in a conference. Not in a retreat center in the mountains. But in stadiums, sports bars, living rooms, cars, planes, on laptops, and on smart phones.

Sounds like a Dr. Seuss book.

I don’t blame him (the nameless consumer) for his initial skepticism of green eggs and ham. After all, Sam didn’t do a great job of marketing his product. And his sales skills were questionable at best. I mean, really – the ultimate high pressure salesman. Hmmm, he actually reminds me of myself trying to convince my husband to try my kale smoothies.

But in Sam’s and my defense, we’re just super excited about green food and want everyone else to love it like we do.

In my early twenties, I had several sales jobs as well as recruiting and training positions. The “basic skill” in selling a product or service AND in hiring/training sales people was translating features to benefits.

Sam and I need to go back to Sales Training 101 when it comes to promoting our green cuisine. But somehow I feel like even if I masterfully present the benefits of kale smoothies to Dave, he still won’t budge.

Benefits of kale. Too many to list. And not the focus of this blog post. But I think I’d be a pretty good spokesperson if the kale industry were looking for a new poster child. In my sphere of influence, I think I’ve done a good job of making kale famous.

So, how does kale relate to making Jesus famous? Well, I’m guessing that my family cringes when they hear the blender going for fear that I will once again stick a glass of thick green goo under their noses after the whirring sound stops. Of course, followed by my excited plea “Try it! It’s so good for you!” I’m also guessing that in some ways, folks cringe when they’re told they need to “try Jesus.”

What I love about several of the athletes I’ve followed over the years who have not been shy about crediting their success to Jesus, is that their lives OFF the field, court, and course have backed up what they proclaim to the media with all eyes and cameras on them. I’m sure their sponsors and contracts prohibit them from saying “too much” on air about how they live out their faith; but really, the proof is in the pudding. Or smoothie.

Do their lives off-camera reflect the Jesus they are “selling?”

I think God said it best in these verses:

“Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing.” John 15:5

“But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” Galatians 5:22 NLT

Don’t get me wrong; everyone has bad days, doubts, fears, frustrations, arguments with spouses, things they wish they hadn’t said or done. However, if those are the things for which they become most famous, all credibility is lost. It becomes “bad fruit.” And what was said on air while holding that gimongous trophy or gleaming medal quickly fades and even becomes as distasteful as my kale smoothie.

The bottom line is this: Does my life make Jesus attractive to others?

What would make someone want to try the Jesus that I boast about? Have I done an effective job selling the benefits of walking/running with Him? Do I consistently live out what I believe? How do I respond to criticism, the pressures of life, and when stuff doesn’t go as planned? Am I the same person off-camera as on-camera? Is there visible “fruit?” Or am I just all talk?

I’ve asked myself those questions a lot lately. More specifically, “How do I make Jesus famous in my running?” I suppose the answer depends on my audience. Except for races and the occasional run with friends, I run alone. So, really, I have an audience of One when I’m just training. How that Audience perceives my effort, results, thoughts, and heart during the run are everything to me.

Last Saturday I ran a 30K trail race which consisted of over 12 miles up to the Summit of Mt. Diablo (3,849′) then back down for 7 miles. I have to admit right here that I didn’t think it would be a big deal since I had run a 50K earlier this year going up to the Summit. I was looking forward to the cooler fall temps and even light rain forecasted. I had done a lot of hill training and felt good going into this race. What I did not account for was the mud from the previous night’s rain. Mud that from mile one got caked on each shoe and at times made me two inches taller. I’ve always wanted to be taller, but not this way. It didn’t take long for my ankles and calves to feel the strain of what was probably ten pounds of mud. And the hardest part of the course was still miles up.

This race came with an option at the mile 8.71 aid station to turn back down the mountain for a half marathon finish instead of proceeding another 3.4 miles UP to the Summit and ultimately a 30K finish. First off, let me say there would’ve been no shame in taking that option. But I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t go the full distance. And c’mon, there was even a huge, visible teaser at that point. I had to laugh as it brought so many great illustrations of temptation to mind. One in particular was the infamous “deal” Satan tried to make with Jesus for fame and kingdoms at His disposal if He would bow down and worship him. Of course, Jesus said “NO DEAL!” Satan should’ve known better; Jesus never did ANYthing with the intent of becoming famous.

Jesus and I made it to the Summit that day where there was a large sign on the ground at the aid station of a cartoon Devil and the words “Stomp Here!”

And stomp on it I did whilst thinking about all the times in life Jesus has helped me stomp on worse things than that 3.4 mile climb we just conquered.

The lessons learned, victories won, and obstacles overcome in training AND racing should spill over to all areas of my life. So much so that others will find the Source of my strength and joy just as attractive as I do. And that they, too, would want to try Jesus.

Photo Credits
Tim Tebow:  nydailynews.com
Stephen Curry:  slate.com
Derek Carr:  churchleaders.com
Race course:  brazenracing.com, Katherine Ingram, ChasquiRunner
Connect Magazine cover:  runforgod.com, Meagan Tang

Another year. Another birthday. Last year was a significant one. The Big Five-O. Actually, it was my best birthday yet.

I haven’t always enjoyed my birthdays. I’d always felt bad – even guilty – for friends and family trying to celebrate me. Trying to find a gift that I wouldn’t want to return and a card with a sentiment that reflected my personality. Or planning a memorable, enjoyable event or some sort. So much pressure, right?

If I was lying on a psychiatrist’s couch right now relaying earliest memories of birthdays, it would certainly all go back to my fifth birthday party. The one that started it all that never really happened. The one where my mom invited five of my neighborhood friends but only bought the five-pack of party hats so guess who didn’t get one? The one when it came time for gifts, my mom gave them all back to my guests. The one with the black and white photo of me crying at the small wooden table surrounded by five little girls in party hats. In retrospect, I feel bad for my mom in all of this since at the time our family had few friends, no money, was living in graduate student housing, spoke very little English, and culturally speaking had no clue about American birthday protocol.

It did take years for me to realize why I always felt like it was wrong to be celebrated and the center of attention.

My poor husband. On my thirtieth birthday, he tried to plan a surprise dinner with both sides of the family. He was successful in that I was definitely surprised. I showed up at the restaurant with a toddler and infant in tow as well as me wearing sweats covered in baby formula/spit up/poop, no make-up, no shower, and hair pulled up in a pony tail. Neither child had napped and were grumpy the entire evening.

By my fortieth, Dave was probably fed up with me whining about my birthday. Whining because I didn’t want to do anything to celebrate.

Since I started running in my forties, birthdays have evolved – or rather – revolved around races. I think it was 2013 when I first told friends I was running the Rocky Ridge ultra half marathon on my birthday that year and most of the responses were like “Really?” “Why?” “How is that fun?”

I kicked up the birthday “fun” several notches in 2014 when I ran the Marine Corps Marathon in D.C. on my birthday thanks to leap year.

The Big Five-O last year was the first birthday I think I truly let go and embraced my special day as that – a day to celebrate me. Sounds rather self-indulgent and egotistical when I say it that way. However, over the years – and through much prayer on Dave’s part – I’ve learned that God intended it that way. Not the self-indulgent, egotistical part. The celebrate me part. It’s really an opportunity to celebrate the life He created and continues to faithfully bless and protect year after year. And an opportunity for friends and family to celebrate with me.

I mean I think I’ve known this intellectually for years, but it took turning fifty to let it truly sink in.

I started writing this post two days ago. Yesterday was my 51st birthday. It fell on a Thursday, so no races. Not a significant one like Sweet 16, 18, 21, or the decade markers. But in true runner’s fashion, I had to go on a birthday run. Of course, I headed out to my Happy Place at the Lafayette Reservoir. It was on the warm side but gorgeous nonetheless. I invited one person to my birthday run. Just Jesus.

I was so excited to get the party started that I forgot to start my Garmin until mile one. I wanted to do something crazy and run four Upper Rim Trail loops – something I’d never done before. I’d done three loops a few times but never four. That would be 20 miles of hills, so of course I wanted my Garmin to commemorate the day. I’d have to back track later on to make up for starting my watch late. It’s okay – nothing was gonna ruin my plans! Birthday tunes in the form of my favorite rockin’ worship songs kicked off the celebration. A few miles later, I was so immersed in running, singing, praying…and crying. As I reflected on the past year, it brought me to tears recounting God’s faithfulness. On one of the hill climbs, Jesus and I had the best birthday cake in the form of Psalm 34:8.

“Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good; Blessed is the man who trusts in Him!” NKJV

And since it’s my birthday run, this version of the same verse:

“Open your mouth and taste, open your eyes and see— how good God is. Blessed are you who RUN to him.” MSG

And then the Holy Spirit brought people to mind to pray for in hopes that they, too, could TASTE and SEE how good it is to “run” with Him. And this also brought me to tears…like my heart actually hurt (partially from the steep climb) longing for loved ones to know God the way I know Him.

After that, the spotlight changed. It was no longer MY birthday party. It was Jesus’. I spent the rest of the run showering Him with gifts of praise. No Hallmark cards. Just little ol’ me lifting up my hands, joined with majestic oaks, beautiful wispy clouds, much needed breezes, and a glistening reservoir all worshiping our Creator.

Around mile ten, I was thinking “Hey, it’s not as hot today as I thought it would be.” I spoke too soon. I had brought plenty of party food – GU gels and a Clif bar – and had indulged heavily in the beverage of choice – cool, sweet water from the drinking fountains. But my legs were feeling heavy. “NOOOOO, I’m only half way through this party!” Determined, I started my third loop up the Rim Trail. Those same hills I had charged up a few hours ago seemed much steeper now. I had to slow way down.

What’s the deal here?! I had just run three loops on this same trail last Friday – no problem! I managed to forget that it was probably thirty degrees cooler that day. As I trudged along, I heard Jesus reminding me that this was His party. And that He planned it for my own good. And since this was Day One of my 51st year, that I should pace myself.

So Jesus and I finished three solid loops and fifteen hilly, warm miles together yesterday. I feel pretty good today. No hangover, no regrettable party behavior. I think this year is off to a good start.

I arrived at Chicago Midway exactly one week ago. The last time I flew into this airport, over twenty people with the last name Tang were also here. A warm July weekend for our cousin’s wedding. With less than a month before the San Francisco Marathon, my first thought was “Where can I get in a long run?” Lakefront Trail said the hotel concierge as well as my cousin Elaine, a veteran of the Chicago marathon.

While the rest of the Tangs shopped the Magnificent Mile, I was determined to get in my own magnificent miles. I soon discovered Lake Michigan is really an ocean. Breathtaking. No, literally. I couldn’t breathe. The humidity in July was stifling. But I remember thinking it must only be me since all the other runners on Lakefront didn’t seem to be struggling. A sticky sheen of sweat quickly covered my entire body. I was sludging through each and every step.  Lungs gasping. How do people run here? Why would anyone live here? After all, the “livability” of a city can only be judged by its “runability.”

Fast forward six years later…

THIS IS THE BEST CITY. EVER.

“I can’t wait to come back!” The River Walk, bridges, views, hotel, restaurants, museum, weather… Oh, and THE MARATHON!

From the moment I stepped out of the Orange Line train, headed down the station stairs luggage in hand, landed on the corner of State Street, and saw the illuminated Chicago Theatre marquis just a few feet away, my adrenaline level soared and continued to escalate for the next few days.

You can read all about the Chicago Marathon’s numbers and history of growth, study the course map and starting corral logistics, and look at countless race day photos. But until you are actually standing there at Buckingham Fountain two hours before race start surrounded by the electricity generated by 40,000 runners, volunteers, security, photographers, Chicago skyline, porta potties, and course announcer counting down the minutes to your wave start, you simply cannot fathom the magnitude of this race.

I had my iPod loaded with my favorite pump up jam with me but didn’t use it until much later since the spectator cheering was so loud and inspiring. I thought “I’ll turn on the tunes once the crowds diminish.” They never did. Block after block, mile after mile, this high-spirited Chicago crowd never let up. Neither did the endless lines of volunteers at all twenty aid stations. And the security…

Can I just take a brief moment to address the fact that this major world marathon took place one week after the tragic Las Vegas shooting? My last blog post titled “What Am I Afraid Of?” was written days after. I didn’t mention the shooting or related fears at all. But on the morning of the race, I suddenly became very aware of the tall buildings surrounding me that I had been admiring in iconic race photos for months. A pre-race email from race organizers assured runners that every precaution and measure was being taken to ensure the safety of everyone involved. However, once I stepped through the metal detector leading into the runners’ village, my thoughts took off faster than Galen Rupp and Jordan Hasay, the American winners.

These thoughts weaved in and out of my mind for miles, and then it occurred to me that I really needed to stop this reckless train of thinking before it robbed me of the JOY of an incredible race experience. I’ve relied heavily on God’s Word in the past to get me through some physically tough spots in races, but that day I needed it mentally more than ever.

“We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” 2 Corinthians 10:5 NIV

What do I know as fact about God? That He has been faithful to me, to my family, to my friends, to my country. That He keeps His promises. That His love is unconditional. That He has healed me. That He will never leave me. That He provides all that I need. That He hears all my cries and has held all my tears. That He shields and protects. That He is good. All the time.

The enemy’s strategy is to take my mind off of those facts. And sometimes it works. But then a song came on my iPod shuffle (yeah, it got a little warm after about ten miles so I got out the tunes). A song reminding me that Jesus is fierce. Some days I rely more on the Jesus, Lamb of God, side. Today it was time for Jesus, Lion of Judah.

“No weapon formed against Him will prosper.” Isaiah 54:17 NKJV

I spent the rest of the race truly enjoying each mile, each step, each crazy spectator, each water hose mist, each patch of shade, and whatever God provided to reinforce the fact that this race is His.

And if He has made sure every detail of my race is covered, how can I not be overwhelmed by that?

“Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” Psalm 37:4 NLT

For sure, I delight in Him; but does He delight in me? Am I running in such a way that pleases Him? Am I going a pace that is too far behind or in front of Him? Am I remembering what He coached me on during training? Am I allowing heat or other circumstances to take my eyes off of the eternal prize?

Speaking of heat and delight, God must’ve had Himself a good laugh at mile 22. First off, kudos to Chicago Marathon for having the most aid stations and volunteers I’ve ever seen. City blocks of tables stacked high with Gatorade and water cups along with smiling young volunteers to personally hand them to you. But when I approached the mile 22 station, I noticed a runner taking an empty cup from a pile of empty ones on the ground. Then another runner took the gallon container of water from a volunteer and drank directly from it. I thought “Wow, did they run out of cups?” It was quite warm by this point in the race, and I had just gulped down a GU gel; so I definitely needed some water. So I, too, grabbed the gallon jug from the volunteer and took some hearty chugs straight from the container then handed it back to her. I’ve never seen or done this at a race. I hope the runners after me don’t mind my germs. Can’t believe a major race like this could run out of water. Then probably twenty feet or less later, I saw it. The actual aid station. Both sides of the street lined with volunteers and tables of cold, refreshing FULL water cups. What did I just drink from? Who was the gal that I grabbed the container from? I guess I’ll never know.

I started out the race not using using my iPod. I don’t know that I actually “need” or depend on music to get me through a marathon. I feel like sometimes music adds to a race like properly placed adverbs and punctuation in a story. My finish line song ended up being the Imagine Dragons song “Whatever It Takes.” I have made it my personal goal to interpret any song I run to through the ears of God and how He might use it to propel my next step. I downloaded this song onto my iPod shuffle with the amusing thought that it would be really cool if this came on at Mile 25. Guess what? It sure did.

Chorus:
Whatever it takes
‘Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins
I do whatever it takes
‘Cause I love how it feels when I break the chains
Whatever it takes
You take me to the top
I’m ready for whatever it takes
‘Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins
I do what it takes

I was on the verge of tears of joy on several occasions last weekend. Of course, crossing the finish line of my 43rd marathon. Did I mention that Buckingham Fountain and the start line brought me to tears? And then there was the two mile walk back to the hotel from the finish line that brought on a whole different set of tears. Self-inflicted since I didn’t want to take the shuttle. But so glad I didn’t because I would have missed out on running into a Bay Area friend on the walk back. Hundreds of thousands of runners and spectators, and I happen to spot my friend Elena.

When I finally got back to the hotel, it turns out that Dave was out on the course trying to cheer me on but couldn’t find me. GPS does not like tall concrete buildings, so not surprised that my timing device on my race bib intermittently flipped out and he couldn’t track me. I was really touched that he went to all that effort to try to find me.

I had been on a weather watch two weeks before race day. The forecast was everything from thunderstorms and humidity to high temps. It ended up being picture perfect. In fact, it wasn’t until Dave and I boarded the train back to Midway, that it started pouring down rain.

To say that the Chicago Marathon did not disappoint is quite an understatement. But even more so, experiencing God’s provision, protection, and presence from start to finish. His fingerprints all over every aspect of my four days in the Windy City – which was windy exactly when I needed it to be.

 

Many Bible verses and devotional themes focus on strength, courage, and fear. Strength and its derivatives appear in God’s Word over 360 times, courage over 30 times, and fear 365 times.

Last week I read from a daily devotional titled “Reckless Abandon.” The author (my friend Pastor Ray Noah) quoted the famous World War I pilot, Captain Eddie Rickenbacker: “Courage is doing what you’re afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you’re scared.” As I read on I developed a sinking feeling like that of eating a heavy meal too fast and too close to a run. This can’t be good. If I kept reading, it could lead to something heavy and dig deep into my soul when all I really wanted was a little dose of spiritual wisdom with my customary morning cup of coffee and toast. But part of me was curious.

After I finished reading, I realized that I frequently offer several of those “be strong and courageous” verses to friends going through challenging circumstances or seasons. I’ve even made it my starting line verse at a couple of marathons like the monsoon of CIM (California International Marathon) 2012. But during those times, was I actually fearing something? In the example of CIM 2012, did I fear for my safety, potential injury, or not meeting my goal time? In retrospect, the answers were no, no, and yes.

I suppose any challenging endeavor undertaken in less than ideal conditions requires strength and courage; however, when I look back now, I wasn’t being completely honest with myself. When I say “Lord, help me to be strong and courageous,” what am I actually asking Him to do? Or reveal?

Honesty takes courage. More than just looking in the mirror or an unfiltered photo of myself. It goes way beyond wrinkles, sunspots, gray hair, or muffin top (if you don’t know what that is, you don’t have one). I think I have to come to grips with the fact that I judge myself far deeper and harsher than anyone else could. Outward honesty doesn’t come easy. And sometimes it comes with a price. It may cost you your reputation, relationships, trust, and pride. The flip side is that those could also be the reward in the long run.

Much research has been done and articles written on the topic of fear. I’m not referring to the top ten lists of phobias including fear of spiders, flying, and public speaking. I’m talking about the stuff that might keep you from reaching goals, promotions, successful relationships, or some days just getting out of bed. I googled “most common fears” and results were mostly about phobias except for this one titled “12 Most Common Fears Holding You Back From Success” from workitdaily.com:

1. Fear Of Failure
This type of fear has its roots in the misconception that everything you do has to be 100% successful.
2. Fear Of Success
This type of fear is based on the idea that success is likely to mean more responsibility and attention, coupled with pressure to continue to perform at a high level.
3. Fear Of Being Judged
This type of fear comes from the need for approval that most people develop in childhood.
4. Fear Of Emotional Pain
This type of fear is rooted in wanting to avoid potential negative consequences of your actions.
5. Fear Of Embarrassment
This type of fear is a result of empowering others to judge you when you demonstrate that you’re only human by making mistakes and having lapses of judgment.
6. Fear Of Being Abandoned Or Being Alone
This type of fear is related to rejection and low self-esteem.
7. Fear Of Rejection
This type of fear comes from personalizing what others do and say.
8. Fear Of Expressing Your True Feelings
This type of fear holds you back from engaging in open, honest dialogue with the people in your life.
9. Fear Of Intimacy
This type of fear manifests itself by an unwillingness to let others get too close, less they discover the “real you.”
10. Fear Of The Unknown
This type of fear manifests itself as needless worry about all of the bad things that could happen if you decide to make a change in your life.
11. Fear Of Loss
This type of fear is related to the potential pain associated with no longer having something or someone of emotional significance to you.
12. Fear Of Death
The ultimate fear of the unknown. What will happen once our spirits leave our bodies?

Perhaps a runner’s top 12 list might look slightly different. I know at least one runner friend who would list fear of porta-potties as her #1 (and #2). See what I did there?

I would probably add fear of physical pain to this list. Not the kind in which you’re running with an injury or running causes an injury. I mean pain from going all out, lungs bursting type of physical pain.

For years I’ve kept a very simple running log through an app on my phone which now seems archaic compared to what’s currently available. But it’s all I need, so why switch? One thing I like about this app is that at the end of each recorded activity, it asks “Effort Level: 0 to 10.” I recently read an article in a running magazine that totally changed my perspective on how to assess effort. It had everything to do with pain and discomfort tolerance. How much discomfort did you allow yourself to experience during that run? How long can you keep up that level of discomfort?

Since reading that article, I now ask myself that last question whenever I get to a point in my runs where I think about slowing down or stopping. Can I go even faster until that tree up ahead? Can I keep a solid pace up the next big hill? How badly do I want to crush this run? What will it take for me to say “I left it all out there today?”

Over the years, God has been coaching me on closing the gap between training mentality versus race mentality. It doesn’t take a running expert to know that you need to practice what you want to actually happen on race day. But of course, that’s easier said than run.

This summer I went into a particular trail race not expecting to place top three for an age group medal. A friend of mine had fallen in this same race – which she placed 2nd in her age group – a couple of years ago sustaining an injury that sidelined her for many months. My goal was simply to not injure myself. I ended up running a solid race almost matching a previous best time from six years ago. Later when I looked at official results, I saw that I was only 0.10 behind the gal who placed second in my age group. This really bothered me and took some of the joy I had just moments earlier. Why? Because I know without a doubt that I could have given more. It wasn’t about beating out another runner; it was about knowing I left it all out there on the course with nothing I’d do differently and no regrets.

Which brings me back to my original question “What am I afraid of?”

Regrets.

Fear of becoming a “would-have-could-have-should-have” hoarder. Missing out on reaching goals or opportunities because I held back.

And if I am being completely honest here, gulp, I have been holding back with becoming more immersed in the next chapter of my career. I’ve been afraid to give 100% to new opportunities because doing so felt like I was closing the doors to an old, familiar comfy chapter – much like running the same route and drill every day. Embracing the new has been uncomfortable. However, going day to day trying to fill my schedule with activities that don’t contribute to where God’s leading is like running junk miles just so I can enter more miles in my running log. It’s like training on a completely different course than the one on which you’re about to race. And then when race day comes, expecting to magically P.R.

It has now taken me 1,362 words to say what God said in three:

“RUN TO WIN.” 1 Corinthians 9:24 MSG

Yes, that sounds scary. Almost all of those top 12 listed fears come to mind. But God also said very succinctly:

“Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9 NIV

With these two verses in my arsenal, God is equipping me to tackle my biggest fear every morning when my feet hit the floor and every race when I line up at the start. Get out of my comfort zone, trust the new training, give 100% on and off the course, leave the results to God, have no regrets. Good plan.

 

“Jesus wept.”  John 11:35 NIV

As a former elementary school teacher in a Christian school, I admit I used to joke about that famous verse in the Bible. Famous for being the shortest. Students would remind me of this fact when it was time for those long Scripture memorization quizzes. One year I thought about assigning that verse…on April 1st.

I’ve never been good at memorizing. When I had to give presentations in school or at work, I literally wrote out what I wanted to say verbatim for fear that if I forgot something, I’d veer treacherously off track.

When I was a sophomore in high school and introduced to a dynamic, loving church youth group, it was there that I first opened up a Bible. I had no clue how to go about “reading” the Bible much less how to use one for its intended purpose of knowing God better. I’m not sure when exactly I got it in my head that I needed to memorize Scripture. It just seemed like everyone at church could quote verses and even use them in meaningful, encouraging ways.

Fast forward thirty-five years…

I’m still bad at memorizing things of significant length. But with regards to the truly important stuff, God has used running as the most effective memorization tool. After all, one simply cannot tote around notes or a big heavy Bible whilst running. So He went one step better and gave me His Holy Spirit to remind me at the most critical, opportune moments of key points from His Word:

“But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you.”  John 14:26 NIV

Last week’s hill training run is a good example. I wasn’t “feeling it” when I got to the reservoir. I’m usually excited to be at my happy place, but that morning I was just feeling bleh. I thought the cooler temps would be motivation enough since it had been over 110 degrees the previous week. It was definitely cooler but still humid. I will take dry, high temps over any amount of humidity any day. As soon as I hit the first big hill, I heard footsteps behind me. Those footsteps quickly materialized into several young men in blue fire department shirts and shorts holding giant yellow walkie-talkies. It crossed my mind for a split second to try to keep their pace. Then I heard laughter. No, it wasn’t coming from those strapping young firemen. It was coming from common sense.

As they blew past me on their own training run, I was humbled as I pictured them in full gear and oxygen tanks running into a burning forest or building risking their own lives to potentially save one. With this image in my head, I prayed for their safety. Verses about God’s hand of protection came to mind. The rest of that day’s hill run was filled with more prayers as God kept bringing people and situations to mind. Verses about continual, persistent prayer, persevering through trials, putting on the full armor of God, courage over fear, peace, strength, and healing accompanied each step and breath. I couldn’t stop. At one point, it felt like my heart would burst from being reminded of so many people that needed prayer. It felt like each person was not only on my mind but now flooding my heart. There are times I cry out “God, how do you handle all this? I can’t even take the few you’ve placed on my heart today, yet you know and hear the cries of seven billion of us all at once!” Humbling for sure.

Funny thing about being humbled. It’s actually a good place to be since THIS is how God can best reach us. Perhaps this is why when I’m running I can hear God so clearly. Running has humbled me more often and more consistently than anything else. Check in on me at Mile 20 of any marathon and you’ll see. I used to think the definition of being humble was self-degradation. (“I’ll never be as good as so-and-so.” “I’m not worthy of that promotion.” “Why would anyone like me?”) Years ago I heard or read – can’t remember where – the definition of humble as “knowing who you are in relation to God.” I’ve also heard it put as “seeing yourself as God sees you.”

On that hill run, one verse kept coming to mind which I don’t usually share because I used to think it wouldn’t be very humble of me to do so. It was from James 5:16.

“The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” NIV

I realize I have hesitated to share this verse for fear of coming across as arrogant or boastful. It is because of one word in the verse: righteous. I even “version-surfed” to see if there was a more palatable word, but most still say “righteous.”

“The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working.” ESV

“The effective prayer of a righteous man can accomplish much.” NASB

“The effective, fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much.” NKJV

Knowing that I was wrong about the word “humble,” I had to look up the word “righteous” and debunk my previous mindset of the association with the term “self-righteous.” Turns out that humble and righteous kind of go hand-in-hand as I found these versions of the same verse:

“The prayer of a person living right with God is something powerful to be reckoned with.” MSG

“When a believing person prays, great things happen.” NCV

Okay, who among us wouldn’t want their prayers to be powerful and produce great things? But most people would not openly refer to themselves as righteous. However, I have found during runs being able to come pretty close as running often empties me of that which normally crowds God out and allows more of Him in.

PC: Sallie Arellano

Some days, the stuff God brings to mind intersects with an especially magnificent view. Those moments have brought me to tears. I long for more of those.

If you’ve read some of my posts from earlier this year, you know that it’s been a rather emotional one. Lots of tears. Big ugly ones. Some hormonal, for sure. But in my defense, lots of life changes went down this year. I’m also embarrassed to say I have cried at the dumbest things as well. Like that Geico commercial with the microwave burrito and “Final Countdown” song which reminded me of Meagan’s senior year final band concert.

This year God used my emotions and tears to bring relevance to the verse I used to skim over and even joked about. “Jesus wept.” It comes from the passage in Scripture detailing the death of Lazarus, brother of Mary and Martha. You don’t need to be a Bible scholar to know that this is the famous “raising Lazarus from the tomb” account. It’s even become a household football term used when a team or player miraculously pulls out a win or resurrects a career against all circumstances and odds. But I digress.

What I never paid attention to before was the moment when Jesus actually wept.

‘When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. “Where have you laid him?” he asked.
“Come and see, Lord,” they replied. Jesus wept. Then the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”’ John 11:33-36 NIV

But why then? After all, Lazarus had already been dead four days when Jesus finally arrived at Mary and Martha’s home. He had already received the news before then. Plus, being the Son of God and all, He already knew he was going to raise Lazarus from the tomb and there would be a happy ending. So why did He cry when He did? Or at all?

I’m no Bible scholar and still feel uncomfortable using the words humble and righteous, but I think Jesus wept at that precise moment for me to know how much I am loved. He wants me to know that He not only sees my tears but also feels them Himself. Why is this important? I believe it is crucial in my faith that He can and will answer my prayers. And that He will do so in ways that undeniably prove He was there when I was crying out.

Reminds me of when both Natalie and Meagan have texted me asking for their social security numbers. (You’d think being adults now that they’d write it down somewhere.) I like to mess with them a little and text back “How do I know this is really you?” They respond with a very specific, personal, and even embarrassing event that ONLY I would know about.

When I actually think about how differently I respond when I am with someone who is grieving versus reading about it or seeing it third hand from a friend of a friend on Facebook, I start to get a glimpse into how important our emotions are to God. And His presence. So important that the only way to deeply feel what we feel was to give us not just a written, duplicated version of Himself but His actual 100% undiluted self aka the Holy Spirit.

God has highlighted key words, given depth and meaning to obscure passages, as well as transformed incorrect patterns of thought during my runs. All for my benefit. Because He knows me so well. And knows I’m bad at memorizing. It brings me to tears when I think about the lengths He goes to so that I know the depth of His love.

“You just gotta push through. It’s like those final miles in a marathon…”

I can’t remember the exact conversations or even the topics, but I do recall on several occasions responding with this metaphor when my kids came to me for advice. They don’t always reciprocate with the same enthusiasm and depth of emotion as one having reached a marvelous epiphany: “I hate when you talk in running metaphors!”

Okay, in my defense I don’t ALWAYS make everything about running. Well, actually, maybe I do.

This morning’s devotional from good ol’ Oswald Chambers “My Utmost for His Highest” featured a verse from one of my favorite Bible chapters: Hebrews 12. Of course, you know by now that Hebrews 12:1-2 is the theme and namesake of my entire blog and has been the foundation of many a post these last three years. But I confess I don’t usually read beyond verse two. Why? Because the rest of the chapter isn’t about running. Or is it? Stick with me; I’m going somewhere with this…

I enjoy looking up different translations of verses.  Sometimes it’s crucial to my understanding of the context and ultimately applying it to my own life. I also love word studies, so seeing the various usages is like a buffet for my eyes and soul. As with most buffets, you tend to fill your plate with what is most appealing and familiar. You might occasionally be adventuresome and try a dab of this or that.

This morning’s featured verse of Hebrews 12:5 was from the New King James version:

“My son, do not despise the chastening of the Lord,
Nor be discouraged when you are rebuked by Him.”

I’d be lying if I said I enjoyed that particular bite. I kind of pushed it around with my fork, dabbled in it, then opened up my Bible app to the more familiar New International version:

“My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline,
and do not lose heart when he rebukes you.”

I still had room on my plate and wanted to get my buffet money’s worth, so I got back in line and this time tried The Message version out of curiosity:

“My dear child, don’t shrug off God’s discipline,
but don’t be crushed by it either.”

Hmmm…interesting. I continued eating, I mean reading.

“It’s the child he loves that he disciplines;
the child he embraces, he also corrects.”

Now this bite started to reach parts of my palate that hadn’t been reached. I found the next portion to be timely since today is the first day of school for most of my friends’ kids as well as first day of work for my oldest child, the new college graduate.

I love seeing all the Facebook posts this morning of kids on front porches or next to campus marquees, sporting grade level signs, giant backpacks, and big temporary smiles.  Now I know, it’s a little early to be talking about discipline. Save that for Back to School Night and Parent Teacher Conferences, right? But just as with running – BOOM, there it is – the discipline needs to start sooner than later. This passage seems to use the words “discipline” and “training” interchangeably:

“God is educating you; that’s why you must never drop out. He’s treating you as dear children. This trouble you’re in isn’t punishment; it’s training, the normal experience of children. Only irresponsible parents leave children to fend for themselves. Would you prefer an irresponsible God? We respect our own parents for training and not spoiling us, so why not embrace God’s training so we can truly live? While we were children, our parents did what seemed best to them. But God is doing what is best for us, training us to live God’s holy best. At the time, discipline isn’t much fun. It always feels like it’s going against the grain. Later, of course, it pays off handsomely, for it’s the well-trained who find themselves mature in their relationship with God.”

How would it be if you showed up at Back to School Night and your child’s teacher did not have any plan for classroom or student discipline? What if there was no structure or training in place to guide students from day one? How would you or your children know if they are making progress? How will they respond to consequences? Or disappointment?

Similarly, what if you signed up for a race and showed up at the starting line without having trained at all? Or maybe you had a perfectly executed training plan; how would you gauge its effectiveness? And when things don’t go as planned, how do you react?

Almost thirteen verses in Hebrews 12 about discipline and training. Of course, the last two really got my appetite going and are the whole reason I decided to write this blog post today in hopes that it might help “clear a path” for someone (or maybe it’s just me):

“So don’t sit around on your hands! No more dragging your feet! Clear the path for long-distance runners so no one will trip and fall, so no one will step in a hole and sprain an ankle. Help each other out. And run for it!” Hebrews 12:12-13

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could see the entire road ahead at all times? And even nicer if the path was clear and without obstacles? That is simply NOT an option or reality or God’s plan to grow our character.

The verse that initially made me not want to go back for seconds is now one that is beckoning me back to the buffet. First days of school and work come with huge mixed emotions. As I’ve learned the hard way in many a marathon, I need to pace myself. And exercise self-control along with discipline. And listen to progress reports from God. But perhaps the most difficult is to acknowledge when I need correction and follow-through on it.

I appreciate that one of the verses says “At the time, discipline isn’t much fun.” I don’t know that I’ve ever called ANY race or training run “fun.” Usually when I’ve heard other runners say that a race was fun, it is accompanied by finger “air quotes.” I think what we really mean to say is that the race was fulfilling. Certainly running with friends makes the journey more enjoyable. And those spectacular views along the way make painful steps worth it.

Last Saturday I ran the Bear Creek trail half marathon for the fifth year. Every year I have literally said “Never again!” Parts of this course are simply not fun! This race is always on a hot August morning with lots of elevation changes, poison oak, wasps, and a daunting exposed last few miles ending with a cruel set of steps into a creek then back up a hill to the finish line. My finish times have gotten significantly slower the last two years. This year I was determined to not repeat the mistakes of the past. Better pacing, hydration, nutrition, staying mentally strong, and along the way encouraging other runners was the plan. Mission accomplished.

As a former teacher, principal, and parent of grade school kids, I am going to make this all about running and say that the school year is a marathon. And for that matter, so is starting a new career, business venture, project, relationship, season of life…

Often I read Bible verses that don’t register or grab me at first glance. Regrettably, more often than not, I don’t push through and look for ways to understand them. The good news is that when I ask God for wisdom and discernment from verses in order to know Him better, nothing delights Him more! And it’s like – dare I say – crossing the finish line! That, my friends, is better than any PR or medal!

God’s Word has entire passages about running. If the Almighty Creator of the Universe wants to make it all about running, who am I to argue?

 

Race photo credits: Jason Lehrbaum and Jay Boncodin