The day before the race, Matt said, "Jen, you're biggest challenge is going to be staying positive during the race."
A true statement and I am thankful for his honesty. Not only did I need to hear it to run better, but it was a reminder of staying positive in my own life in general.
I had read from Hebrews 12 a few days before the race and I was intrigued and pulled toward verses 1-13. The author portrays the Christian life as a long-distance race rather than a short sprint. The author is encouraging the Hebrew Christians (who were tempted to drop out of the "race" because of persecution) to concentrate on the finish line. The finish line, of course, also being Jesus. The author then goes on about enduring hardship as a discipline. Just as training is vital to running, God's discipline serves as a basis for encoragement and perseverance in our walk with Him.
Discpline is such a hard thing to accept whether it be in training for a marathon or discplining ourselves in submitting to the Father. When I registered for the marathon in April and entered into my training for the marathon, I was able to realize how much the training was going to parallel my personal growth as a Christian.
The past few months have been a time of controlling my "thoughts". Sounds a bit cooky, but you all have experienced it. Whether it be staying positive while working out and you say "just one more push up" or "just one more mile" or staying positive at work and you tell yourself "only a few more hours of work" or when you wake up in the morning and as you step out of bed you tell yourself "today is going to be a good day." Not only have I had to learn and train myself to be positive while running, but to be positive about *everything*; to do everything in a spirit of love which ultimately changes my thoughts from discouraing to encouraging.
So, when I heard Matt say, "Jen, your biggest challenge is going to be staying positive during the race" I knew I was going to have to discipline my thoughts before and during the race to stay positive to reach the finish line.
The morning of 10-10-10, I woke up feeling rested and peaceful; anxious but at peace (finally) that all was going to go well. I wasn't thinking about the finish line, I was only focused now on the start. In fact, as I prayed that morning for the race to go well I heard the small voice inside say, "the race has already begun." So true; my race had begun months before with the countless miles of training and beyond that, just like in Hebrews 12, the "race" is only a metaphor for our walk with God.
I had a quick breakfast of yogurt, toast and peanut butter, and coffee. I popped a few ibuprofen to help with the swelling in my left knee that had been giving me trouble for the past few months and then I walked out the door.
At 5:30am Matt and I got ino his friend's car and drove toward downtown. She dropped us off a few blocks from Grant Park and the start line. It was still dark outside and the temperature was about 65 degrees. Matt asked how I was feeling and I said nothing more than a simple, "Good. Excited." I didn't need to include the "nervous" because it was already a given. I dropped off my sweat bag with bib #16169 attached and got lost in the mass confusion of where the start truly "started". The corrals spanned over three blocks and there were people everywhere. I kissed Matt goodbye as I neared the corrals and he wished me good luck with a smile and walked away in the opposite direction. I was alone - even in the midst of more than 45,000 people. I had looked down at my watch which read "6:48 am". I had to meet with my pace group at 7:00 am in the open corral. I decided that I had just enough time to do a warm-up jog. The warmup turned into a joke. I spent more time slowing down and going around people than actually running. I had enough of that after seven minutes and decided to do some quick drills in an open spot on the grass. My nerves finally got the best of me and at 7:00am on the dot, I made my way to the entrance of the open corral and walked (actually pushed and excused my way through a crowd) toward my pace group with the big blue sign imprinted with the numbers
4:30
I stood between a group of loud and obnoxious guys who all wore the same color singlet and shorts and who were running for a charity, but I don't recall which one. A girl about my age stood in front of me. She had on a bright yellow tank top and was quiet and kept her eyes fixated ahead at all times. To the right of me stood two Canadian women who wore their hair in ponytails pulled back with a red and white maple leaf printed ribbon. Lake Michigan was to the right and the sun was just beginning to come over the buildings. The minutes were slowly ticking by and I hadn't brought my ipod to drown out any noise. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the runners quieted as a gentleman sang the Star Spangled Banner. Four minutes later, at 7:30 am on the dot, the gun sounded and the race had begun. Well, not exactly for me, I was in the open corral and I walked sixteen minutes before I heard my d-tag sensor go off as I crossed the start pad and I pressed the little button on my watch to time my 26.2 miles.
U2's Beautiful Day could still be heard blaring from the loudspeakers that were set up at the start of the race as I set myself 50 feet in front of the 4:30 pace group. The song was quickly drowned out by the sounds coming from the crowd. I have never seen so many people cheering on runners. As I made my way under a bridge and into a tunnel I looked up and there were people packed side-by-side standing on the bridge looking down and yelling out to friends and family. I placed myself on the right side of the road since I had agreed to be on the right for easier spotting for Matt and my parents who were there for support. I looked back periodically to maintain visual of my pace group to ensure I wasn't going out too fast and attempted to get comfy and to remember to relax my shoulders and arms.
I quickly came upon mile 2 and tried to span the crowd for my parents who were to be waiting there. The only thing I seemed to make out was a large styrofoam hand engraved in permanent maker with "High 5". It was attached to a long stick and was held by a bigger guy with sunglasses who was yelling "yeah" as loud as he possibly could as we passed.
Mile 2 passed by as quickly as it had appeared with no sign of my parents, but just knowing that they were "out there" was encouragement enough. I could see a water station ahead and remembered Matt telling me to drink at every station. I had decided before the race that I would alternate between water and gatorade at each station which was placed every 1.5 miles-2 miles along the length of the course. I heard the volunteers yelling gatorade (For those who enjoy Water Boy, "Water sucks! It really, really sucks! Gattoooorraaaaaade") and got a good laugh not only from thinking of the scene from Water Boy, but because I basically splashed it all over my face as I attempted to run around the mass of people around me. This become a real frustration for the next 24 miles - running around this many people proved to be an energy and time waster.
A little more distance into mile 2 I heard a familiar voice call out my name and as I looked to my right, there was Matt. Matt was decked out in a brand new (and quite serious) North Face hydration pack. Matt attempted to keep up with me as he dodged the hundreds of people that stood along the sidewalk. I remember he asked how I was feeling and I stated, "good." This was the first sighting in many that I would have of Matt over the next few hours. Each sighting of Matt gave me more energy to keep moving forward and he was constantly encouraging me or asking me if I needed a gel.
I truly couldn't get over the massive amount of spectators. The next 3 miles were spent getting comfy and into a rhythm and I enjoyed watching the spectators; reading their poster boards; listening to the music blaring from balconys; and watching a few girls dance a jig to the tunes of a bagpiper. The sun was still tucked behind the buildings, but I began to wonder when the sun would finally emerge and begin to beat down its sunny fiery.
I quickly made a right-hand turn and found myself elbowing my way through the mass of runners. Without restraint, I yelled firmly "stay in your lanes around the turns" and realized that (even though I was surrounded by runners) most of them had no knowledge of runner's etiquette. The negativity had crept in, I had let myself get irritated on that turn and could hear Matt telling me "Jen, stay positive."
It wasn't hard to stay positive, the energy from the spectators, the music, the cheers, the adrenaline powered me forward and at mile 5, as I crossed the mat, I looked down at my tattoo on my arm with the target times for each mile and compared it to my watch and I was 20 seconds ahead of my goal. I glanced over my left shoulder and I couldn't see the 4:30 pace group any longer. Matt was quickly on the side lines jogging along with me and asked me my time. He encouraged me to "keep it up" and to pick up the pace around mile 8. However, shortly thereafter, I had a real need to use the restroom.
Ugh, the restroom break - a time waster...a time killer. I was still ahead of the pace group and felt strong. In fact, I was running much slower than any of my training runs where I kept a 9:15-9:30 pace. I couldn't afford to stop, but my body was telling me otherwise. After passing 15k, I saw the pora-pottys lined up and knew I had to stop. Matt was right there waiting for me and as soon as I returned from my break, he told me the 4:30 pace group was 1 minute ahead. Yikes, I lost about 2 minutes and now I had to gain it back.
I joined the "pack" and attempted to settle into a rhythm once again. The sun was now beating down on all of us with no shade offered for the next few miles. I could make out the pace group sign ahead and I knew I could "catch" them in about 2 miles. And I did just that. I had caught up with them by mile 12 right before we crossed the bridge that would bring us over the highway and begin to direct us west of the city.
Mile 12 marked another destination where my parents were going to try and spot me. I placed myself on the right side of the road, but encountered much resistance with slower runners. I enjoyed the fact that they were slower than me. They were slower than *me*. Wow! One year prior I wasn't running more than 2-3 miles every other week (if that) and, needless to say, felt awful even when attempting a small jog. I found myself having a blast while running the course. I even chalked it up with one of the pacers and he told me what he was craving for breakfast. I left him shortly thereafter and told him it was because he was making my mouth water, but really it was because I wanted to stay ahead of the pace group.
The halfway point came and went and I knew I had to run under 4:30 in order to have negative splits. At the rate I was running (and feeling), I felt like it wouldn't be a problem. I placed myself only a few feet in front of the pace group and for about one mile there were only a few spectators so I got to enjoy the pitter-patter of hundereds of runners shoes hit the pavement. I passed a runner with Psalm 73:26 written on the back of her shirt which gave me encouragement:
"My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."
I prayed for God to continue to strengthen me in order to finish the race and for my knee to be strong. It had started to ache at mile 5, but I decided to pay it no attention and to lean on the many prayers that were said for me that day.
We began to make our way through the many eccletic neighborhoods that make up this great city of Chicago. Each neighborhood had volunteers that were just as fast, efficient, and friendly as the one prior. Each water station was either "gatooorraaaaaade" or water and I found myself pouring more of it all over myself than I was getting in my mouth. I approached mile 17 and Matt was there on the corner yelling my name. I recall him taking out his camera and trying to snap a photo. I felt great and he could tell. I saw him run ahead of me on the sidewalk and I looked forward to seeing him along the course in the near future.
30k was ahead and I still was hanging with the 4:30 pace group. I couldn't seem to get past them. As soon as I would hit a water station, I would have to slow down to get a tasty beverage of choice and they kept running with someone bringing water *out* to them. I had to chase them down every 2 miles and it was beginning to drain me. I passed Matt at mile 20 and he ran up beside me and asked me how it felt to know that this was the furthest I had ever run. I could only muster a smile, because I was beginning to feel it. I was concerned that most of my energy was spent running around people and slowing down at water stations and then chasing down the 4:30 pace group once more. I decided at that point to run the rest of the race trying to stay with the 4:30 pace group.
Matt had told me to watch for my parents at mile 22, and when mile 22 came and went without any sign of them, I knew that I was going to be on my own for the next 4 miles. Yikes...4 miles. My mind was beginning to go down the road of making the next 4 miles seem like an eternity. I told myself that I only had a mile or so until I got to 23. Once I got to 23, I would tell myself I just had to make it it 24 and so on and so forth.
I pulled out the Accel gel that Matt had handed me and I had tucked into my shorts at mile 17. I am always reluctant to take gels since they give me heartburn, but I felt like I had kept myself well hydrated and ripped open the top and had about half before tucking it back into my shorts. I could see a guy holding a hose ahead on the course and I knew that I needed to place myself on the left-hand side of the road to ensure that I got to feel its sweet relief that it would offer. I held up my arms as I went through the water, but was quickly eating water as he aimed the water stream at my face. Ha! I smiled as I caught my breath realizing that if he had done that on purpose, well, then, that's just plain rude, but also hilarious at the same time.
"Just get to mile 23 and stay with the 4:30 pace group....just get to mile 23 and stay with the 4:30 pace group." I told myself this over and over as the temperature began to rise and I could see the signs (the event alert system signs indicating the status of the course conditions based on weather) at each water station move from "low" to "high". Each mile seemed to bring more and more people to exhaustion and I seemed to be passing more people walking than running. I got nervous as I passed people with 3:45 pace group signs on their back and I knew I didn't want to be one of "those people" with a 4:30 pinned to my back and finishing in 5:30.
I needed some positive energy. I needed water. I needed to be done. Matt must have read my thoughts because as soon as I passed mile 24 he was running beside me where he told me that I looked really tense. I lowered my shoulders and unclenched my fists. It was the first time that I told him I was tired. He said he would see me at the finish line and that is when I knew had done it. I was going to finish this thing! Mile 24 brought on many spectators since it was where Niketown had placed themselves playing "power songs" to encourage the runners. The announcer was shouting out encouragement and he said "Let's go runners. Only 2 miles left to go." By this point we were about 24.5 miles into the race and so mentally I had already told myself that I had *less than* 2 miles to run. I couldn't let him get away with this so I shouted out, "Less than 2 miles!" I got a few chuckles from one of the pacers behind me. She had been encouraging me for the past 6 miles and she told me to relax and to push it. My bib # was 16169, but she referred to me as "169." She said, "Dig in, 169. You can do it! Dig in, otherwise you'll regret it. Come on, you're strong. Run!"
I left the pace group and set my goal on mile 25. I passed walkers and runners. I was tired and found myself encouraged and motivated while I was motivating others. I continued to pat the backs of those who were walking and said to "keep it up". I had to do it for myself. I had to keep my mind off the fact that I was tired. I had to keep my mind off my aching knee. I had to stay positive.
A woman ahead of me had a 4:30 on her back and I looked at her as my next target for the next 1.5 miles. I couldn't let her beat me. I could see the large screen showing the finish line about a mile ahead, but I knew it was only an illusion. The finish line wasn't that screen. I had taken a "virtual tour" of the course and I knew at 800 meters we would take a sharp right turn and then run *up a hill* and then a sharp left and the finish would be 300 meters from there.
So I dug in. I focused my gaze on the woman with the 4:30 on her back and I looked for the 800m mark. It came later than I had wanted it to, but I made the sharp right turn and focused on the hill ahead. The crowd was massive. The spectators were yelling but I couldn't hear anything. The hill made my calfs burn and my lungs were on fire. We hit the 400m mark and then made the sharp left turn and there it was...A beautiful sign that read F-I-N-I-S-H. I looked down at my watch and it said 4:28:30. I wanted to try to get in under 4:29, but in reality I didn't care nor did I care about the woman with the 4:30 on her back and beating her. I just began to sprint. It wasn't even close to a sprint, but it felt like I was running with everything I had. I heard my name over the loudspeaker and "Columbia, SC".
I raised my hands and my feet hit the mat.
Tears came to my eyes and I kept thinking over and over, "I can't believe I did it."
I desperately wanted Matt to greet me and embrace me in that moment. Instead I had to look down and put my hands on my hips and keep moving forward.
I thanked God over and over for the ability to run, to walk, to have the victory to overcome such negative thoughts in order to run each and every mile between training and the race.
I snatched two bananas, two sandwiches, two waters, cookies, pretzels, crackers and a bag of ice for my (already swollen) knee and made my way to the runner reunite area. 50 minutes after crossing the finish line and a 1 mile walk later, I was greeted by Matt, friends, and my dad (who even brought me flowers). Unfortunately, my mom was stuck at the finish and was so dehydrated herself that we had to meet up with her.
Matt's simple reminder to stay positive meant more than he will ever know. Not only because of the encouragement it brought me while running, but how much more it reminds me to stay positive while not running - while living this life. It's so easy to complain. It's so easy to not like our circumstances. However, we choose our destination. We choose our paths. If we don't like the path we are on; if we don't like our current life's circumstances, well then change direction. You will need to discipline yourself to get where you want to go - the biggest challenge won't be crossing the finish line, it will be staying positive while you're running the race.
"We don't drift in good directions. We discpline and prioritize ourselves there." - Andy Stanley
