4 am ramblings

So I decided to get a screen capture of pics taken professionally during our Food and Wine Half Marathon. Many have heard about it, but few have seen the pics. If you look, you can see me at the beginning of my roll across the finish line and coming up out of the roll. You can also clearly see that I crossed before that crazy laughing pixie running next to me. A little background on this race and the picture. This was the inaugural race and it happens overnight. Starts at 10, ends at like 3 or 4 in the morning. I was unable to get the race weekend off. I closed Friday, opened on Saturday, worked all day, skipped lunch, ran the race, back into work the next day at 1:30. I ran on fumes, just pure stubbornness I suppose. I didn't run fast, just right there at that pace that allowed me to eat up the miles, even when they gave me heartburn and indigestion. People passed me, and I passed people. I started to get really sick and lightheaded after the race while waiting in line to pick up our bags. I remember sending Lindsea to go sit down or go to the bathroom or something. We were stuck in this big tent area and the smell was incredible. Not a smell of body odor, but the smell of the plastic blankets they gave us mixed with the odor of Bio-freeze which is heavy on the menthol. At this point I had no reason to be standing up. We go our stuff and headed out of the park. There was this whole after party thing but there was no way we were going to be able to do that. I stopped just outside of the Epcot turnstiles to share what little there was in my stomach with the plants. Because I'm all Eco minded like that. We got to the car and I drove us about 10 of the 15 minutes it took for us to get to my house. Then I either passed out or fell asleep, depending on how you define passing out. Either way, I wasn't conscious.
It was the same kinda deal when I ran my first marathon. I finished and my legs felt like my body was a sack of potatoes that had ran for almost 6 hours on a pair of toothpicks that had splintered. It was ironic that it took me 20 mins to walk about 200 yds after having ran for so long and for so far. This really nice guy saw my struggles and gave me a ride the last 600 yds to the car.
When Lindsea and I ran the marathon the next year, together, we tottered like nursing home escapees all over the parking lot. We were looking for a place to sit down out of the freaking cold wind of the day that started out at 27 or so degrees. We finally huddled together on a curb with our pathetic space blankets wrapped around us, Lindsea cuddled into my chest while we waited on my dear sister to come pick us up. She was racing to pick us up and get to work on time as well.
In Marine Corps Basic, we have this horrible week referred to as "The Crucible". A crucible is a container that metal is heated in that helps clean off the impurities of the metal. It is, quite literally, where Marines are forged. It basically consists of about 54 miles hiked in 3 days, with team building events built in. It is a severe test of mental and physical endurance and strength. At the end of it is this hump (a Marine term for the word "hike") that I can never remember how long it was. I think it was in the area of 9-12 miles. It's hard to know b/c they always seemed to lie about how close to the end of it we were. I remember the first part of it, 3 miles, as stumbling about at 4 in the morning, pretty much asleep on my feet. I woke up though, as we started to ascend the mountain road. That road switched back and forth about 20 times, or so it seemed. We took a bit of a rest at the bottom of the next to last bit, appropriately named "The Reaper". It was basically a goat path up the side of the mountain which goes up at a knees-touching-chest angle and then leveled out just long enough for you to get feeling back. Rinse and repeat this about 7 times.
Once at the top, we dropped our packs and ran up the colors. It was probably 8 in the morning and we sang the Marine's Hymn. From that moment on, we had earned the right to call ourselves "Marines". I got choked up, leaked a few tears, and then popped all 8 of the blisters on my feet on the way down the mountain.
I remember singing "How Firm a Foundation" in Church there, and thinking about how appropriate that song is. To this day that song reminds me of that time, and the Spirit moves me.
I feared not, for He was with me. I was not dismayed, for He is my God and STILL gives me aid. He strengthened me, He helped me, and He caused me to stand, upheld by His righteous hand. When over deep waters He called me to go, and rivers of sorrow threatened to overflow, He was with me. My troubles have blessed me and serve to sanctify me for His presence. Through fiery trials my pathway lies but the flame will not hurt me. For thus is my dross consumed and my gold refined. After many years as a poor wayfaring man of grief He sent me an angel from on high to scatter sunshine into my life.
Funny how appropriate the hymns can be in our lives, eh?
The title of this blog is appropriate as well. For we are ALL on a marathon to eternity. Sometimes we run it well, sometimes not. Sometimes we are happy, sometimes we are sad. Sometimes we are strong, and sometimes weak. To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. If we have patience and endure to the end. I can do that. I can endure. Been there, done that.
And when I near the end of this marathon, I'm pretty sure I'll look over and see my angel running next to me. Her head will be down, tongue sticking out, with that look of determination on her face as she drops the hammer for the finish line. And everything in me will respond to that challenge. My legs, my feet, my arms, intestines, spine, and heart will release every micro gram of mitochondrial energy for the one last push of mortality. And I will fall, rolling across that resurrection line into eternity, with a laughing pixie leaping across it an instant later.
I promise not to throw up this time. :)