So, I ran a marathon...

I still can’t actually believe I did it. I ran a marathon.

I’ve had a few days to process my thoughts and feelings about all this. So I thought it was probably time to write those thoughts down. So here it goes.

I honestly didn’t think I could do this. I was about 75% (or maybe 99%) sure that I could not do this when I signed up. I did not think my body was capable of running long distances. I’ve had back and hip problems for most of my life. I was positive I was going to get injured in some way that would force me to quit.

The first day that I really felt like God was asking me to run this race, I told him the million reasons why this was a bad idea. I told him that I just didn’t want to. But as I went about my day, trying to ignore the tug in my heart, a line from an old song kept popping into my head. “If you can make something out of my life, I won’t stand in your way no more…”

And there it was. I had an offer in front of me. I could let him use me - to make something out of my life - or I could keep standing in the way. Doing only what was comfortable, what was easy, what I wanted to do or felt like doing.

So I did my best to get out of the way. I said yes. And I let him use my little feet to tell the story of millions of women across the world whose babies don’t have access to clean water. Who spend their days walking miles and miles for dirty water that will make their family sick, that might take their babies from them.

I’ve been stretched far beyond my comfort zone. Not only physically, but emotionally and spiritually as well. I had to learn to trust him more. I had to ask people for money. (Which, for the record, I hate doing.) I had to run.

Over the weeks and months of training, it finally dawned on me that there was a possibility that I could actually do this. That I might not break myself - but instead push myself farther than I ever thought possible. That I might actually run a marathon nine short months after giving birth to my second child.

And, as it turns out, I did.

I ran a marathon in 4 hours, 47 minutes and 47 seconds. My goal was to keep my pace at under 11 minute miles. My average pace came out to be 10:59.

I haven’t made it much of a secret that I did not love training for this race. I do not love running. I apparently can run. But I don’t enjoy it most of the time.

But marathon day was different.

Maybe it was because I went into this race as a celebration run. We hit our fundraising goal of bringing 200 people clean water the night before. As much as I was sure I couldn’t run this race, I was equally sure that we could not raise $10,000. But, once again, I was proven wrong. We went farther than I ever thought possible.

Before our team dinner the night before the race, Ashton Eaton (aka the world’s most athletic man?), said something that really encouraged me. He said that the person who ran the original marathon was running to tell the Greeks of victory. That the marathon, at it’s core, is a celebration. And we were going to run this race to tell those kids across the world of their victory. That they were going to have clean water for the rest of their lives.

So I went into this race imagining running towards 200 kids. Towards their moms. To tell them that they were getting clean water because of the support you’ve given.
This race felt unlike any training run I ever had. Maybe it was the million or so people cheering me on, many by name. Maybe it was the 40,000 or so other people running through the streets with me. But….and I almost hate to admit this...it was actually....fun.

I loved it.

There. I said it. I loved running the marathon.

I still don’t love running. I’m still not a runner. I’m still the whining runner.

But for those 5ish hours, I didn’t feel whiny at all.

As I passed mile 26, with just .2 to go, someone on the side of the road locked eyes with me and said “Sam, you just ran a marathon!” and I started sobbing. The crowd around them seemed to notice that I was getting emotional and they all started chanting “Sam! Sam! Sam! Sam!” And I could not handle it. It’s really hard to breathe and run while crying. I didn’t want to be crying in my finish line pictures. So I pulled myself together and ran across that line with a smile on face. I put my hands in the air and then promptly broke into sobs again. I ran the marathon. And 200 moms never have to worry about the water they’re giving their children again.

Thank you for making that possible. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for believing that there’s no such thing as other people’s children. Thank you from the bottom of my little heart for making all these miles worth every step.

"The work is done. What we were told to do, we did."


Side note:

People who bring food for the runners are hands down the best people in the entire world. By the time we started running I had been awake for more than five hours. My almond butter toast and banana had completely worn off and I had eaten through all the snacks I brought with me. I was starving before we even crossed the starting line. Someone held out a box of donut holes around mile 13 and I could have kissed them. So next year, when I go to cheer on all the runners, I’m bringing snacks.