Reflections on the 2011 Boston Marathon

I learned a lot about what it means to run with faith this past weekend. For most of my athletic career I have been confident because of the workouts I had accomplished and because of the good races leading up to my most important race of the year. However, this year a couple of weeks prior to the Boston Marathon I had to consciously make the decision to let my faith determine how I was feeling about my running and not my circumstances. It was a decision to let my faith in God and the promises He has made to me regarding my running be where my enthusiasim to race and confidence came from, and let me tell you, I had never been more excited on the starting line as I was last Monday.

I absolutely love the Boston Marathon. I have been hooked on it ever since I first came to Boston to watch the race in 2008. I love the history, the runner buzz in the city, the character and trying nature of the course, and the incredible crowds along the way, but one of my favorite parts of the entire race weekend is making the walk from the church where the elite athletes are held prior to the race to the starting line. The race staff part the sea of runners creating a small pathway to the start with the thousands of other runners crowded around. For me this is when the Boston Marathon begins. Walking through the crowd gets me so amped for the race that I could probably skip my warm-up all together and just walk to the start. I high-five as many runners as I can yelling words of encouragement along the way. When we were standing on the starting line I was thinking about how God had created me for moments like these and I believed He would be guiding me as I embarked on the journey to Boylston St.

I have never been shy about leading and with the conditions as ideal as they were I was not about to let one mile slip by, as I knew that something special could happen today. It ended up being a special day indeed. Usually when I see consistent splits in the low to mid 4:40s in a marathon I try and ease up a bit, but on Monday my approach was different. My faith was leading my thinking, not my mind. I checked my watch a lot less than previous years because I wasn’t thinking a whole lot about my time. Every time I went to the front my thoughts went to what God had prepared me for and how He was with me (as He is with all who choose to be with Him). For the first time I can honestly say that fast splits didn’t intimidate me. Jesus said, “…if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible to you.” (Matthew 17:20). I was believing God for a strength to run the race of my life.

When we came through the half way point in under 62 minutes I wasn’t surprised. Though it felt like we had been running hard for a long time it also felt like we were heading for home. I told myself that I really wanted to make it to my fellow Steps teammates (who had set up a cheer station for our runners at heartbreak hill in the lead). After a hard surge was made at around 15 miles and I was dropped from the lead group I worked hard to catch back up as we made the turn at the fire station, which marks the beginning of the Newton Hills. It was redeeming to be with the leaders at this point in the race, as I had never made it this far with the lead group.

One thing I have learned from racing marathons is that when you get dropped and then catch back up to a group, don’t settle with them. Go past them and keep your momentum going, as my physics teacher engrained in my head, it is easier to keep momentum than to create it, so I went back to the front and tried to push the pace once again.

I stayed in the lead through 20 miles but feel just short of my goal of making it to heart break hill. “God has prepared you for this moment” is what I thought to myself during the last stages of the race. When I passed by the mile to go sign and I saw my split it was the first time that I realized I had a chance to break 2:05. That last mile was hard. My legs felt like led and I had been running with Geb for the last two miles or so. As we passed through the only quiet section of the course (running beneath an overpass with ½ mile to go) I could hear my breathing for the first time, which sounded labored, as expected.

There was no celebrating coming down Boylston this year (Sara had told me prior to the race that I could celebrate after I finished) as I was chasing a time and Geb, who had made a hard move just before we made the turn onto Boylston. As I got closer to the finish I could see the clock counting down and I wasn’t sure if I would be under 2:05. I am pretty sure my sprint didn’t look like much of a “sprint” at this point but it was everything I had.

My favorite part of running a marathon is collapsing in Sara’s arms after fighting a hard fought 26.2 miles. I was in shock as we celebrated together. While, I hadn’t won the race (I am still believing that it is only a matter of time) I felt like I had. Considering the rocky training over the last 6 months marked by stomach problems and injury (It wasn’t really until the last 6-8 weeks that I was able to train unimpeded) I couldn’t have been more pleased with the results. God was faithful to me and I could feel His sense of joy and even pride to watch me run, not because I ran fast, but because I ran full of faith.