The Race Set Before Me

My summer can be summed up in about three activities: biking, studying Khmer, and running. I had wanted to run a marathon, and with the school year behind me and more time, I decided this would be the most ideal time to train for one. And train I did, until this past weekend when it all came to a head at the Angkor Empire Marathon.

A part of the course- Angkor Thom Gate

Waking up on race morning was a surreal experience. I had my race bib pinned to my shirt and my pre-race snackfast all ready to go, but it still felt like the moments of awareness before waking up from a dream. Was I really doing this?

I love the feeling of race day- the explosion of excitement and nervousness when the gun goes off. The feeling of accomplishment when crossing the finish line. The onlookers cheering. The regular folks in their cars or on their motos wondering why on earth there are a bunch of police officers everywhere and these people with numbers on their shirts just running.

I’ve grown accustomed to all of these. But the marathon was a new experience for me. Running this marathon taught me that I am horribly inadequate on my own. I blazed through the first half of the race, but just before the halfway mark, I got an unexpected boost of confidence from a crowd member who specifically called me out to tell me how I was doing in comparison to others. I would not have finished in record time if she had not told me how I was doing and helped me convince myself not to let another woman pass me.

Then the pain hit. 26 Kilometers in, my foot cramped up, and I, unwilling to quit or drop out, slowed to a near stop and panicked. How would I get another 16 K done?? My muscles were starting to feel very tight and very sore. My dream of crossing that finish line seemed lofty, but I was nowhere near willing to give up. Again, a boost came from a fellow runner. “Slow down, walk it off!” he said- a reminder that this was an expected part of the run. I took his advice and then trudged on. When I finally got to the 32K mark, I told myself I could sneak another look at my watch- just to see how I was doing. I did sneak a look, but I also thought “I can’t do this. Another 10K? This is crazy! Why did I do this? I really want to be done now.” I told myself to just keep running. Just. keep. running. The kilometers began to feel farther and farther apart. Every one felt like it doubled in length. just. keep. running. Paul’s words to the Thessalonians ran through my head. “God, I just want to say that I finished the race, too,” I thought. I wanted to pain to be gone, but I wanted to finish. I didn’t want to give up just because it was hard. But the pain. The pain was real. It was more than I imagined. More than I had ever experienced. It was overwhelming me and I knew I had to surrender this race, surrender my goal time to God. I knew by then I’d make my 4:05 goal, but the 3:55 I had in my head after I saw my first split, that was gone. I’d be lucky to get a 4:00 at this rate. So I did give up- but I didn’t quit. I heard the words from Philippians about pressing on toward the goal, toward heaven, toward Christ, and gave everything I had in me to God- let him work it out.

And he did. When I crossed that finish line well under the 4:00 mark, a huge smile lit my face and I threw my hands in the air. I thanked God- for his faithfulness, for his presence, and for his power. Because my finish wasn’t all my finish- it was his.

Running this marathon allowed me to see how much I can achieve when I really put my mind to it, but also showed me what it’s like to be in pain and to take that pain and my dreams and all that I am and place it on the altar. To give up to the One who strengthens me every day for the Race I’m still running. May I press on, knowing that even in the painful moments, even when I feel spent, I have Christ.