The Half Marathon

The past two weeks I visited a few places in the south. The purpose of me being there was to run the (half) marathon, and then be in my friend Forrest's wedding. It was quite an eventful time for many reasons, but I'll focus on the half marathon for now.

I flew into Atlanta for the half marathon and to help my friend James unpack from his recent return to the ATL. I hung out for a few days with James and his roommates Drew and James, and then it was time for the half marathon. I was not looking forward to it because I hadn't run in nearly 2 months.

Race day started off pretty poorly. I had only gotten about 4 hours of sleep the night before, and when I woke up I had a lot of congestion. The weather was cold with the promise of rain. Not exactly ideal, but we were excited none-the-less.

Fast forward to the start of the race. James and I are wearing ridiculous running shirts and shorts, along with hot pink hats. For breast cancer...duh. The race begins, and there are literally thousands of people beginning to run. We sneak in at Corral C with the serious runners. I probably won't do that next time. We started at a pace a little faster than we were all comfortable with, but eventually just held back and let the serious runners pass.

I was very worried about my knee, but I had gotten a new brace the day before and had high hopes. I was basically expecting a miracle.

I had joked with James and my sister that if I was feeling good, I might split off and run the full marathon, but I had absolutely no reason to believe it was a possibility.

By mile 3 or 4, I was feeling great. A little bit of race day adrenaline was kicking in and my knee was feeling up to the challenge. I began seriously considering going for the full marathon...26.2 miles.

Around mile 6, my knee started hurting. It wasn't a dull and gradually increasing pain like before. It hit, and it hit hard. I had to walk for a little bit. I knew that the full marathon was completely out of the question, now I was wondering if I could even complete the half.

We began walking more than we were running about that time. James and my sister were extremely gracious about the pain I was in and didn't care about their own times. We all just wanted to do it together.

We were in no hurry at all. When we had to pee, we stopped. When we wanted a drink, we walked till we were finished with it. There were even a few times when we began looking for a coffee shop because we were all a little tired...we didn't find one though. I began getting pretty frustrated. We tried running a few times here and there, but the pain was just too much. Luckily it was mostly just in the right knee.

My parents came to Atlanta that weekend to see me and to be there for me, my sister, and James on race day. They waited at a CVS around mile 8. As the three of us were getting closer to where my parents would be, a shooting pain went through my knee that almost made me collapse. I began thinking that it might be a good idea to stop when I saw my parents, and ride back with them.

When we got to where my parents were, I wasn't feeling good about anything, but James and my sister assured me that they didn't mind walking the rest of the way if need be. Even though I felt ashamed about my condition, I decided to accept their offer, and go the rest of the way. I just wanted to finish it.

The next 5.1 miles were awful. lots of walking, a little running, and lots of pain. As we got within a quarter mile of the finish line, I suggested we pick up the pace and finish running rather than walking. After about 20 feet, the pain was so great that I felt like stopping, but I pushed through. I was angry. I was going to finish that dang race running no matter what. We finished, and I remained angry.

Over the course of this injury, I've definitely been praying about it. There are some days when I ask God "what are you trying to tell me in all of this". There are other days when my attitude is more of "well, it is what it is...". Then there are still other days when my attitude is "Dang it God! Why is this happening to me?"

I've recently been reading a book called The Prodigal God. In the book, Tim Keller talks about the "parable of the prodigal son" highlighting not the younger "prodigal" brother, but rather the elder brother in the story. You can read about these two brothers in Luke 15:11-31.

Part of Tim Keller's point is that while the younger brother recognized his sin and need for forgiveness, the elder brother did not. He had lived a morally "good" life and felt that he "deserved" certain things because of it. He put his faith in his self as a savior, and not the savior Jesus.

It's easy to look at both these brothers and point fingers at things that they've done wrong, but I've become more and more aware of these same qualities in myself. Specifically qualities of the elder brother.

Not that I would have been able to admit it before, but I've seen that when I do "good things" I hope, and even expect, to be rewarded. That is to say "God, look at all these things I've done...now why is my knee hurting? Why hasn't money come in like It "should" be? Why...are things not going perfectly?"

It's not the way God works. He works for the good of those who love Him, and sometimes that means knee pain. I don't know why, but I know this: God is committed to the continuous process of sanctifying us (making us more Christ-like)...and growth is usually very difficult. I've learned lessons in this marathon thing that I suppose I couldn't have otherwise learned, and I thank The Lord for that.

God is Prodigal (definition: recklessly spendthrift) in that he has given to us that which we don't deserve. Forgiveness.

Check out The Prodigal God by Timothy Keller