My first Marathon

A man once turned to me and asked me what I wanted to accomplish before I turned 20. At first this question left me in a state of shock that it was a requirement to accomplish something by the age of 20. I mean, personally making it to this age with all the dares, pranks and jokes I have done as a teenager should be enough of an accomplishment in itself. I pondered this question for a few days wondering what he was expecting me to say. I'm sure if I would have said "all I want to do it beat teen pregnancy" he would have be thrown aback and probably would have ended the conversation right then and there. That very week a friend of mine ask me to join his club. The marathon club. The thought of running a marathon was not at all a reality in my mind and I quickly laughed when he brought up this ridiculous idea. I have never ran more than 8 miles and that in itself was horrible and seemed like it would never end. On top of that, I had just ran a 5k (which for those of you who don't know that is 3.1 miles) and was sore enough from that. Though my statements were true, my friend persisted to tell me that because I should at least join the club and run with us. I finally agreed considering that I am always looking for a running buddy and this would make it easy to find one. I wont lie, I do enjoy running and I had just gotten first in the collegiate women at the 5k running it in 20mins flat, so it was exciting to join a club with other runners who enjoyed the sport as much as I did (even if they were all male). A couple weeks into practice I realized that my hip started to hurt. I had just finished running 8miles, 5miles and another 8mile in the past three days with little rest and my body could feel it. Ignoring the pain, I pressed on. Determined to keep up with the guys workouts I push myself to a limit I had never gone before. Soon enough, it was no longer just my hip flexor that hurt, but because of the way I had ran, my Achilles Tendon was suffering as well. After getting out of class early one day, I decided to go on a run around the park. I hadn't even made it a mile and my Achilles Tendon was on fire. I hadn't felt pain like that while running in such a long time that the shock that I couldn't run was unreal to me. The ground comforted me as I tried to wait out the pain, but the throbbing didn't stop. Just like every sad movie, it started to rain and the wind started to blow. I was alone. Struggling to get back home I looked for a friend, anyone to come save me from this pain, but no one came. As I arrived home from the longest mile of my life, I felt defeat. I was a soaking mess from the rain and had an internal mess that I would have to stop running. All I could do now was pray that some kind of healing would happen. For the next 4 weeks no running happened, it seem as if my hip and tendon were getting worse with time and finally sent me to my first doctors appointment in college. Having been advised by the doctor that I needed to add a couple more weeks to rehab and that I should probably drop the marathon and shoot for a smaller goal such as the half, I left the office with my confidence in my running ability shot. For the next few weeks I aqua jogged and did arm and ab workouts. I prayed that God would give me the strength to get through it and not need to quit the marathon. In the weeks I took off, God taught me a lot about humility. I had began to think that I was the one going to run this race because I needed to do something before I turned 20. Little did I know that God was about to do some great things in my heart. With 9 weeks left till the marathon I started running again, this time though with a new focus. 2 weeks later I decided I was going to try to run 20miles even though (at this point) the farthest I had gone was 14 and that was pretty painful. The night before I prayed "God if you want me to do this, I will be able to finish this run with ease, and if not I will obey drop out." The next morning I ran that 20miles with ease and finished strong. The next weeks came and I kept running. The pain had left, but I was careful about what I did. Just when things started to go well everything turned for the worse. The weekend before the race I became very sick. I was unable to run again and that Sunday I slept for 14hours hoping that I would recover. The week up till the race I took extreme care of my body hoping and praying that it would be held before the race. God came through like he always does and by the time race day came I was feeling better. My goal for the race was either a) finish or b) finish in under 4hours and 30mins. I prayed and hoped that I would qualify for The Boston Marathon, but I highly doubted that I would make the 3 hours and 30mins it required. The night before before our team signed up and ate dinner at the hotel where reregistration was. As we ate Bert Yasso came into the dinning area and meet our club team we were able to get pictures with him and get an autograph. He wished us luck and went on his way. I tried to sleep that night but the thought that I was about to run a marathon flooded my mind and finally at 4 I fell asleep. The next morning the race was a reality. God was really letting me do this. Each mile I had dedicated to someone who has had an impact on my life. All but the first and last mile were dedicated to a family member or a dear friend. The first and last mile I was running for the Lord because he is my beginning and my end. Though out the race I felt good. I smiled at the camera and did the thumbs up sign. Mile after mile I prayed. As I reached mile 24 life was tough. Negative thoughts swept into my mind like darkness on great day. This was the hardest thing I had ever put my body through and I was looking for places on the side of the path to pass out on to. Each stride seemed to be getting smaller, but I kept praying. I felt as if God had his hand on my back pushing me, encouraging me to keep going. By the time I hit 26miles I was mentally done, but I didn't see anyone. I kept thinking "WHERE ARE ALL THE PEOPLE???" and soon enough as I turned the last corner around a building, there they were. Smiling, yelling for me to kick it in and finish. I did. I couldn't believe that I did. All I could do was praise the Lord because none of it was my ability. I had finished the Olathe OZ run in 3 hours and 28 mins. I had accomplished the task God put before me. Watch out Boston, here I come!