This past weekend I ran the Munich ½ Marathon. I don’t know if I should use the word, “ran” that might be stretching the truth a little. I think I should say hobbled, shuffled, hopped, stammered, and a quick look at my dictionary tells me I even shambled or waddled like a duck. This race was going to be my crème de la crème of my previously run ½ marathons. I had trained hard, I knew what to expect and I knew with certainty I would not die in Munich (a fear I previously held during my earlier races). The morning of the race I woke up dawned my “cute girl” running tights and headed to the start line smiling at the 32-degree weather. I felt the peace of the Lord on me and I liked it.
Starting through the line of people and hearing the cannons fire us to motion made me giddy with excitement for what lay ahead. 13.1 miles of culture and scenery in Munich. Passing many of the major landmarks, like the Frauenkirche, the Glockenspeil, and ending in the famous Olympic Stadium. My heart dropped at mile 3. I felt a strong stab go through my knee like a familiar angry ex-lover it started to rip pain through my body. I have a reoccurring knee injury that loves to be, well reoccurring. It hit hard with an angry force like a category 5 hurricane coming for your beach house. I knew by mile 4 I was in trouble. I started to pray to the Lord. Pray that he would touch my knee, that he would heal the pain, that he would let me finish. I told the Lord that I had trained, that I had prepared and now I needed healing.
At mile 6 I saw Jeremy standing with the kids smiling and waving by the roadside. A personal fan club is really very nice. As soon as I saw them I was forced to fight off the tears and put on the happy mommy face. Jeremy took one look at me and started asking what was wrong. I just smiled and kissed the kids and with my big girl voice quivered out, “I don’t know if I’m going to finish”. He nodded and I hobbled forward reentering the race. A little after this is when the pain stopped me dead in my tracks. Now you have to understand that I know, I KNOW that I should stop at this point. I can practically hear my mother telling me to stop right there, not to go one step further, that this could be the time I damage my knee permanently and never run again. I know all of that, and trust me I could hear my mother saying that as I stood in the middle of the road fighting back tears and nausea from the pain. But, I cannot quit.
It’s not in me. Don’t get the wrong impression of me. I am not a competitor. I am not moved forward by the crowds of people, the other runners passing by me with ease, or the thought of a PB (personal best) time. Those things truly don’t “do-it” for me. It’s the knowledge that I quit, the humming sound of failure that drifts through my mind playing its self-deprecating tune of being beaten by lack of drive. I don’t like that song on my personal radio, so I choose to change the station to the little engine that could, “I think I can, I think I can, I think I…” You get the picture. So dragging my left knee in the locked position, with my head held low in a determined stance and whispering prayers of fortitude to the Lord I proceeded to “shamble” for 7 miles through the streets of Munich.
By the time I reached mile 8 I was a lone wolf accompanied only by the beaten, half-starved, overweight, well-aged, dregs of the ½ Marathon. It was me and my teammates making up the proud group of last-place finishers. Seriously, I was trying to just do the airborne shuffle while the 90-year-old woman beside me ate and entire schnitzel and pretzel mit butter, washing it down with a good Munich beer! Before you ask, she beat me as well (after her lunch on the road).
During the long minutes that made up the hours of my ½ marathon experience in Munich, I prayed….a lot. I prayed that the Lord would take the pain and give me a “super-hero” moment. I picture myself running hair in the wind, legs ripping in front of me, arms wide in exhilaration…and I prayed, “let me be super-women, let the pain go and let me fly”. Ok, you might think it was dramatic, but I saw it as a simple request from a mediocre mommy of two who happens to attempt ½ marathons. Then on mile 11 something amazing happened.
The pain got worse. I only had 2 miles to finish. The thought of my kids waiting with smiles and hugs for me did help push me forward, but by now I was hurting bad. I tunneled through the maze into the Olympic Stadium noticing the faces of pity and doubt that passed me from the stands. All I could think was, one front in front of the other. I’m almost there; it’s almost over Lord! Lord, let my knee hold, let me cross that finish line. And then I did. And it was over.
Two days after the half I find myself praying about that experience. The crying in the car, the icing and elevating, the up-coming doctors appointment for my knee, the smile on Jeremy’s face when I made it. I asked the Lord, “What was that?”. He answered, “That was Life”. Then I saw it. You see, I was praying through out the entire thing, I was praying that I would be superwoman, that the pain would just vanish and I would run like the wind, but the Lord was speaking more than I was praying. He was teaching me about I Corinthians 9:26, Acts 20:24, Isaiah 40:31 and mostly Hebrews 12:1, “let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.” God did not come down upon a magical glowing cloud and insert a healing potion into my knee. He did not even take away the pain. The pain stayed, so I prayed harder, until my last prayer was, “Lord let my knee hold, let me cross the finish line”. That is how I want to live my life, I am not ignorant to this world. I know life will hurt, I know trails will come, I do not expect the Lord to magic eraser them away. I only hope to “run with endurance the race that God has set before me”. So I will continue to pray that prayer I whispered to my father in Munich as I set my eyes on the finish line, “Lord, let my faith hold, so that I can cross the finish line at the end of this life”.
Acts 20:24 However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me--the task of testifying to the gospel of God's grace.
Words to live by! Imagine the volumes of material you'll have for each of the marathons you will continue to run..physically, emotionally, spiritually, mentally. And, I see you in about 30 years eating a pretzel and drinking a grosse bier as you meet another milestone.
ReplyDeleteLet the learning continue