The Last One

Yesterday was it. My last “long run” before the marathon. 6 miles.

I didn’t want to start it. I wasn’t ready for the last one. By 6:15 p.m. on Saturday though, I knew it was time. It was perfect weather. Mid-fifties, sunshine and a gentle breeze. As soon as my feet hit the ground I knew this run was something special. That rare, really great run. Not just great at the end or after warming up. But great all the way through. I bounced, danced, smiled, and glided up hills. I took deep, exaggerated breaths past every blooming lilac bush and floral tree (safe, now that the stinky blooms of the flowering pear trees have gone.) I soaked in the sun, mouthed along to the songs on my ipod and thought about the 5 months or so, and the week that lay before me.

The last time I did a 6 mile “long run” it was snowing. I was with a group, chasing after people twice my age who qualified for Boston and trying to find my place. I was recovering from a horrible stomach bug and just trying to get through it. The marathon was far from my mind and doubts had pretty much taken over.

This run, yesterday, was 6 miles of celebration, mixed with a little bit of sadness. I suppose that’s why I wanted to put it off for just a bit. No one wants to say goodbye to anything that’s changed her life. Marathon training has done nothing less.

The girl who began this journey did so out of some sort of call. A call to love that lonely, broken person into someone new through running. I chose to do this to honor the victims of the bombing in Oklahoma City, but in a way, I also chose this to honor my own grief for losses I experienced over the past year. Deep down I knew I needed to acknowledge that pain by living it, and then in finding life beyond it.

So I have. For some reason, I believed this ride would be worth the suffering and sacrifice. That belief has carried me through some of the most painful miles. My desire to do this wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t worth it. What I didn’t know when I ran that 6 miles in December was how powerful that belief, that faith, and that hope really is. If it can carry me up a hill at the end of 20 miles, and through 5 months of training, it can carry me through anything. It might be a wild, painful, difficult, surprising ride, but it’s a ride worth getting in line for.

There is life beyond our pain. There is hope in the deepest desires of our hearts. It’s fitting that these last runs, this marathon, is in the spring. New life is blooming everywhere. For me, it’s the new life of a person who has learned to face pain head on, and not to “tough it out” but to embrace it. It’s the new life of a person who has taken her broken pieces, offered them up, and allowed faith and hope to teach her that trusting God with those pieces is worth it. It was Theresa of Avila who said “the important thing is not to think much but to love much and so to do that which best stirs you to love. Love is not great delight, but desire to please God in everything.”

Marathon training has changed my life into something new. It has allowed me, in a quite tangible and real way, to trust love, even when it makes no sense, when it hurts, and when it leads you on a wild ride. This last run was 6 miles of celebrating that love. For everyone who has hurt, who has dared to trust in life beyond that pain and found love there, this marathon is for you.