Run with Endurance...
Starting into the final 9 miles of my ultra marathon (31.2 miles), I felt like I was reaching my limit. I had now run longer than ever before, and I was not even done. Barely a quarter of a mile out from the aid station, a sharp pain jolted through my right knee. I stopped in pain, unsure what to do. I knew the risk of continuing to run--a blown out knee--but I dreaded not finishing. I had come to finish. Taking pain killers from another runner, I gimped through the "Dread and Terror" section of the North Umpqua Trail.
As if severe knee pain was not enough, close to Lemolo Falls (about 3 miles to go) my blood sugar began dropping rapidly. I was running low on water, too. My body felt maxed, weak and dizzy. I needed an aid station! Feeling on the verge of passing out the thought of quitting was enticing. But what good would that do? Quitting wouldn't help me get what I needed any faster; it would only prolong the misery. I realized then that there was nothing to do but to keep going. There was the promise of an aid station ahead, somewhere. I just needed to keep pushing and find it.
This is not merely the telling of circumstances in an ultra marathon. It is the story of a believer in Christ Jesus. "...and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us" (Hebrews 12:1). As I have continued to push my body harder and longer in running over the past few months, this verse has taken on new meaning.
Having been distance running since I was 14 (now almost 27) I have put in my fair share of mileage. When I first started doing half marathons about 5 years ago, I thought I had finally come to know what it meant to push long and hard in a race, thinking I possessed a better understanding of Hebrews 12:1. Now having just completed my seventh half marathon this past August and my first ultra marathon this past September, it has become evident to me that the Christian life is not a half marathon but an ultra marathon.
I started out on that misty September morning feeling fairly strong, ready to run the longest race of my running career. I kept my pace easy for about 2 miles before choosing to break away from the pack. Little did I know what lay ahead in my race, and if I had fully known, would I have done it? I believe my attitude at the beginning of that race perfectly emulates many of our attitudes, particularly in the Western World, at the time of rebirth in Christ. We set "off with communications of His presence which, though faint, seem great to [us], with emotional sweetness, and easy conquest over temptation" (The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis). But this attitude rarely lasts, eventually giving way to trials. And if any of us truly understood the trials awaiting us by following Christ, would we follow Him? This is a very unsettling question for many of us as Christians. If I had been able to see into my future at age 5 when I accepted Christ as my Lord and Savior, or even at 18 when I rededicated my life to Christ, would I have been so apt to step out in faith? I don't know. But just as I became more invested in finishing my race the longer I kept going, God slowly lets us mature as we run the race of life to become wholehearted followers of Him.
I continued to feel strong throughout my first almost 8 miles. From the start of the race I was very conscious of keeping myself well hydrated. But never running an ultra marathon before, I was quite ignorant of how to eat properly during the race. I arrived at the first aide station with high hopes as I learned that I was the second female to come in. Yes! I ate a little but worried about feeling sick from eating too much and losing time and position while resting. Due to this thinking, I consistently ate too little at each aide station (a horrible mistake for a high metabolized hypoglycemic). Finally, feeling the effects of my lack of eating, I tried to down more food at the aide station just before the "Dread and Terror" Section of the trail (about mile 22). However, by then my body was too depleted of reserves to be adequately replenished. Now examining my motives in not eating during my ultra marathon, I realize how similar they are to our motives as Christians in not replenishing ourselves in God daily. We worry about becoming "too spiritual" or needing to accomplish more in our days. But just as I needed to worry less about the time "wasted" to eat and rest in my ultra, I also need to apply this same thinking to daily time spent with God.
This lack of eating directly contributed to my "hitting the wall" throughout "Dread and Terror" (the last 9 miles). My right knee had gradually hurt worse and worse throughout the race, but now pain struck at it with ferocity. I had to alternate running with walking. I tried running the "flats" (it is the North Umpqua Trail after all) and reversed my previous strategy to walking the downhills and running the uphills, merely so I wouldn't lose time in the race. Sometimes my knee wouldn't even allow that. As I "ran" I fought hard against the desire to quit. I had never felt such a strong desire to just stop in a race. To quit trying. But even as I contemplated quitting, I knew that I would always regret not finishing. I needed to keep pushing through the pain. This temptation to quit is not isolated to athletic events. It is a temptation throughout the Christian life as well. Sometimes a more constant one for some than others. The race of life is hard. Throughout this past year, I can't begin to count how many times I have just wanted to quit in life. To throw up my hands and yell, "I'm done with this!" But just as I had a foreboding toward quitting during my race, a deep anticipation of the regret that would follow, the Holy Spirit provides Christians with something similar: conviction.
Pain gnawed at my knee. Additionally, my blood sugar levels plummeted as I entered my final few miles. My "pace" slowed even more as my body fought to move forward. I needed the final aid station! I knew its mileage position. I would sometimes glance at my watch, but I could no longer calculate my pace to determine the amount of time to it. Dizziness and feebleness enveloped me. I became worried that I would faint. No! You can't faint! Willing myself to remain conscious I continued on. The aid station was somewhere ahead. I had to get to it! Finally, after what seemed like forever (excuse the cliche) an awning came into view, positioned at the top of a hill. There it was! The final aid station. How similar this experience seems to trusting to God's promises. The Bible, particularly the Psalms, speaks of their reality over and over again. His promises are factually undeniable, but believing them daily often seems less certain. We become weak and weary as we push through life, longing every step for the fulfillment of His promises. To be made whole. To be replenished. But if we received what we "needed" immediately, would we ever learn to trust, to hope in the Lord? As I pushed through those final grueling miles of my 50K, I learned that my body and mind are capable of far more than I ever imagined. I learned to run with endurance. Similarly, as we continue on in this life we learn to hold fast to the promises of our Lord and to see the faith of a mustard seed move mountains.
Heading into my last mile my knee began throbbing more than ever. Every stride sent a stabbing sensation through my joint, especially as I transitioned from trail to pavement. I could barely run. It became especially hard when the 16-year-old boy running behind me caught and passed me. My competitive nature screamed to run harder, to "fight back", but my body could no longer respond. It now took everything just to make it to the finish line. As an athlete, I dislike nothing so much as looking weak. No athlete likes being the one who "hits the wall." The one who didn't train well. The one who couldn't finish strong. This idea is ingrained in athletes very early on (I know it was for me). Finish strong. Push hard to the end. But these are not just words directed at athletes, they are words directed at Christians, too. In the Church we use phrases like "running well", "finishing well", "persevering to the end", "running strong", "fighting the good fight." Therefore, is God still honored by our "gimpy, unsteady run" when we have nothing left to give? My first reaction, from a competitive athlete's point of view, "Of course not!" How could God be honored by my inability to run strong, by my weakness? However, upon closer examination of the verses so often quoted with the above ideas (1 Corinthians 9:24-25, 2 Timothy 2:5, 4:7, Hebrews 12:1), it has struck me that these passages merely discuss running to the end, pushing through, but not how steady or strong your run should or will be.
I crossed the finish line and hobbled to a stop. I had made it! It was over! I struggled to stand amidst the pain in my legs as I accepted congratulations from others. I know to speculate about Heaven is futile for it will surpass every image that I can concoct, but I think the relief and accomplishment that soared through me in those moments are pretty close to what I will feel when I enter Eternity. To be told, "Well done, good and faithful [runner]."
As if severe knee pain was not enough, close to Lemolo Falls (about 3 miles to go) my blood sugar began dropping rapidly. I was running low on water, too. My body felt maxed, weak and dizzy. I needed an aid station! Feeling on the verge of passing out the thought of quitting was enticing. But what good would that do? Quitting wouldn't help me get what I needed any faster; it would only prolong the misery. I realized then that there was nothing to do but to keep going. There was the promise of an aid station ahead, somewhere. I just needed to keep pushing and find it.
This is not merely the telling of circumstances in an ultra marathon. It is the story of a believer in Christ Jesus. "...and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us" (Hebrews 12:1). As I have continued to push my body harder and longer in running over the past few months, this verse has taken on new meaning.
Having been distance running since I was 14 (now almost 27) I have put in my fair share of mileage. When I first started doing half marathons about 5 years ago, I thought I had finally come to know what it meant to push long and hard in a race, thinking I possessed a better understanding of Hebrews 12:1. Now having just completed my seventh half marathon this past August and my first ultra marathon this past September, it has become evident to me that the Christian life is not a half marathon but an ultra marathon.
I started out on that misty September morning feeling fairly strong, ready to run the longest race of my running career. I kept my pace easy for about 2 miles before choosing to break away from the pack. Little did I know what lay ahead in my race, and if I had fully known, would I have done it? I believe my attitude at the beginning of that race perfectly emulates many of our attitudes, particularly in the Western World, at the time of rebirth in Christ. We set "off with communications of His presence which, though faint, seem great to [us], with emotional sweetness, and easy conquest over temptation" (The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis). But this attitude rarely lasts, eventually giving way to trials. And if any of us truly understood the trials awaiting us by following Christ, would we follow Him? This is a very unsettling question for many of us as Christians. If I had been able to see into my future at age 5 when I accepted Christ as my Lord and Savior, or even at 18 when I rededicated my life to Christ, would I have been so apt to step out in faith? I don't know. But just as I became more invested in finishing my race the longer I kept going, God slowly lets us mature as we run the race of life to become wholehearted followers of Him.
I continued to feel strong throughout my first almost 8 miles. From the start of the race I was very conscious of keeping myself well hydrated. But never running an ultra marathon before, I was quite ignorant of how to eat properly during the race. I arrived at the first aide station with high hopes as I learned that I was the second female to come in. Yes! I ate a little but worried about feeling sick from eating too much and losing time and position while resting. Due to this thinking, I consistently ate too little at each aide station (a horrible mistake for a high metabolized hypoglycemic). Finally, feeling the effects of my lack of eating, I tried to down more food at the aide station just before the "Dread and Terror" Section of the trail (about mile 22). However, by then my body was too depleted of reserves to be adequately replenished. Now examining my motives in not eating during my ultra marathon, I realize how similar they are to our motives as Christians in not replenishing ourselves in God daily. We worry about becoming "too spiritual" or needing to accomplish more in our days. But just as I needed to worry less about the time "wasted" to eat and rest in my ultra, I also need to apply this same thinking to daily time spent with God.
This lack of eating directly contributed to my "hitting the wall" throughout "Dread and Terror" (the last 9 miles). My right knee had gradually hurt worse and worse throughout the race, but now pain struck at it with ferocity. I had to alternate running with walking. I tried running the "flats" (it is the North Umpqua Trail after all) and reversed my previous strategy to walking the downhills and running the uphills, merely so I wouldn't lose time in the race. Sometimes my knee wouldn't even allow that. As I "ran" I fought hard against the desire to quit. I had never felt such a strong desire to just stop in a race. To quit trying. But even as I contemplated quitting, I knew that I would always regret not finishing. I needed to keep pushing through the pain. This temptation to quit is not isolated to athletic events. It is a temptation throughout the Christian life as well. Sometimes a more constant one for some than others. The race of life is hard. Throughout this past year, I can't begin to count how many times I have just wanted to quit in life. To throw up my hands and yell, "I'm done with this!" But just as I had a foreboding toward quitting during my race, a deep anticipation of the regret that would follow, the Holy Spirit provides Christians with something similar: conviction.
Pain gnawed at my knee. Additionally, my blood sugar levels plummeted as I entered my final few miles. My "pace" slowed even more as my body fought to move forward. I needed the final aid station! I knew its mileage position. I would sometimes glance at my watch, but I could no longer calculate my pace to determine the amount of time to it. Dizziness and feebleness enveloped me. I became worried that I would faint. No! You can't faint! Willing myself to remain conscious I continued on. The aid station was somewhere ahead. I had to get to it! Finally, after what seemed like forever (excuse the cliche) an awning came into view, positioned at the top of a hill. There it was! The final aid station. How similar this experience seems to trusting to God's promises. The Bible, particularly the Psalms, speaks of their reality over and over again. His promises are factually undeniable, but believing them daily often seems less certain. We become weak and weary as we push through life, longing every step for the fulfillment of His promises. To be made whole. To be replenished. But if we received what we "needed" immediately, would we ever learn to trust, to hope in the Lord? As I pushed through those final grueling miles of my 50K, I learned that my body and mind are capable of far more than I ever imagined. I learned to run with endurance. Similarly, as we continue on in this life we learn to hold fast to the promises of our Lord and to see the faith of a mustard seed move mountains.
Heading into my last mile my knee began throbbing more than ever. Every stride sent a stabbing sensation through my joint, especially as I transitioned from trail to pavement. I could barely run. It became especially hard when the 16-year-old boy running behind me caught and passed me. My competitive nature screamed to run harder, to "fight back", but my body could no longer respond. It now took everything just to make it to the finish line. As an athlete, I dislike nothing so much as looking weak. No athlete likes being the one who "hits the wall." The one who didn't train well. The one who couldn't finish strong. This idea is ingrained in athletes very early on (I know it was for me). Finish strong. Push hard to the end. But these are not just words directed at athletes, they are words directed at Christians, too. In the Church we use phrases like "running well", "finishing well", "persevering to the end", "running strong", "fighting the good fight." Therefore, is God still honored by our "gimpy, unsteady run" when we have nothing left to give? My first reaction, from a competitive athlete's point of view, "Of course not!" How could God be honored by my inability to run strong, by my weakness? However, upon closer examination of the verses so often quoted with the above ideas (1 Corinthians 9:24-25, 2 Timothy 2:5, 4:7, Hebrews 12:1), it has struck me that these passages merely discuss running to the end, pushing through, but not how steady or strong your run should or will be.
I crossed the finish line and hobbled to a stop. I had made it! It was over! I struggled to stand amidst the pain in my legs as I accepted congratulations from others. I know to speculate about Heaven is futile for it will surpass every image that I can concoct, but I think the relief and accomplishment that soared through me in those moments are pretty close to what I will feel when I enter Eternity. To be told, "Well done, good and faithful [runner]."
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