“I don't want to live my life this
way.” I have repeatedly said these words all year. But “this
way” does not refer to what many might think. Dominoes keep
falling at the church I pastor. We have lost an elder and his
family, plus our two worship music leaders and their families.
Though I joke that I am an insensitive jerk the fact is, I have
feelings. I hurt when I think about any of these people. I miss
them and I regret my part in pushing them away.
But when I say that I don't want to
live my life this way I refer to the training I started in February.
The third orthopedic surgeon I consulted had finally diagnosed the
debilitating pain I had felt for over four years in my calves. He
referred me to Excel Physical Therapy. (I absolutely recommend
Excel. Another P.T. business I patronized before did nothing for me.
Call if you want the name of that place.) Excel got me going and at
the end my trainer asked for my next goal. “To run a marathon
without walking a step,” I heard myself say.
I had never consciously thought about
running a marathon. But as soon as I said it, I knew it was true.
So the work started. I did leg exercises, balance work, upper-body
strength training, stretching, icing and running. Then I ran some
more. For eight months I gradually ramped up mileages and frequency
of running. By summer my long runs required the placing of water
along the route in advance. They ate up my entire day. I calculated
that if I had run all my miles from this year in a continuous path I
would have gone from Traverse City down the east coast of Lake
Michigan, then west to Mt. Rushmore.
I felt great most of the time. I was
not tired. I loved getting really strong. Every so often I would
have a fantastic run. I could eat as much as I liked. Even the
blood clot I got in my lung in late August did not put me down for
more than a couple of days. But I hated the relentlessness of it.
It became a mental and emotional drag. I kept after it, through
prayer and stubbornness. But I had no time to do more than my job at
church and basic chores around the house. Forget about going to the
beach. Or taking a bike ride for fun. Or staying awake later than
9pm.
Finally, race day arrived. I ran the
marathon without walking a step. I got a really good time. And I am
absolutely delighted it's over. I do not understand people who live
this way all their lives, people always in training for the next
race. What motivates them? In my darker moments I accuse them of
insecurity, narcissism, neglect of their families. In my more
charitable moments I recognize that I too have compulsions, things
over which I have no control. Maybe we all do.
And besides, I have received a
tremendous blessing. That blessing has empowered me to face the
training and the church troubles with real peace in my heart. That
blessing is the sure knowledge that I am not alone.
I ran wearing my father's ratty old IU
baseball cap and a shirt of his from a 100-mile cycling race he and I rode together in 1983. I felt his presence with me, though he
died 2 1/2 years ago. Friends from church popped up to encourage us
along the route. I prayed a few times along the way and felt Jesus
was with me.
Most importantly, my wife Linda ran
beside me every step of the way. She had run with me all summer,
after completing her first marathon over Memorial Day. She has
become an excellent distance runner. Had she run her race she would
have finished well ahead of me. But she held back and we crossed the
finish line holding hands. I know that I am not alone. I know I
never will be. With that kind of support I can face falling dominoes
and blood clots. Praise the Lord for the web of connections in which
I live my life.
