Running Together

“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.