2 Years and 20 Miles

April 1st marked 2 years since Charles passed away. I simply cannot believe how fast time is flying by, and how much I have learned and felt in the many days I have spent without him physically with me. I have been given strength beyond my own, to accomplish the things that need to be done. I have been lifted up in ways that surpass all understanding. With the passage of time, I find a sense of determination to carry on with power and courage. 

Life is short, and I intend to make the most of the life I have to live. 

A few months ago, I wrote on my calendar that I would conquer my 20 mile training run on April 1st.  I wanted to do something special, something empowering, something that required the courage to continue. I had never run 20 miles in my life, and it was an intimidating prospect. 

I have been training and running my guts out for the past 3 months. I had run quite a few longer runs, with 15 miles being my longest journey. I was tired at the end of 15, and not sure how I could squeeze out 5 more miles to complete the 20. 

The day before my scheduled 20, I was sick. Illness had been going around my house, with head junk, chills, and body-aching. I struggled to decide whether or not I should go, if I should power through the sickness, and pound out the miles no matter what. There were some other not-so-pleasant issues with my body -- having to do with being a woman -- and I thought maybe waiting another week might be a better option, so I could "enjoy" my long journey as much as possible, without passing out, or having to frequent a bathroom out on the trails. 

I determined that I would prepare the day before as if I were going to run, but I would make the choice right before running to see if I was feeling well enough to go. I was not interested in pushing my physical limits in a ridiculous and foolish way, but I did not want to be a wimp either. I prayed for a miracle, that I could feel good enough to run, that I could have the strength I needed to make it through. 

On April 1st, I woke up feeling pretty gross. It was a beautiful day outside, and I wanted to go out and conquer so badly. I ate some breakfast, and prepared myself for the run. I had everything laid out the night before and ready to go. My phone and iPod were charged and ready to roll. I spent the morning reading my scriptures, and filling myself full of positive thoughts, and lots of prayer. 

I decided that even though I was sick, I wanted to do it. I felt I could request a miracle on such a special and meaningful day, and so I prayed for that miracle. I did not ask for my sickness to be taken away, but I asked that I could have strength greater than my own to conquer despite my illness, and other  female "issues." 

I had to wait until the afternoon to run. That was a challenge, because I was anxious to go all day, and trying to find the right foods to eat for fuel was interesting... I normally do longer runs in the morning. The marathon will be really early in the morning, so fueling will be a little easier. The anticipation of the run was driving me crazy though, I just wanted to get out there and go for it! 

I loaded up my gear. I had some fuel in the form of non-caffeinated shot blocks, a protein bar, and some water.  I also store my phone and tunes in my pack. I love and hate my superhero running belt. That sucker can start feeling really irritating after running with it for so long. But having the fuel on hand is worth the irritation. I was grateful for the fuel along the way. 

It was about 3:30 in the afternoon, when I set out on my journey. I had a plan to run 4 loops of 5 miles. I did not want to get too far away from home if I started having issues with something, especially since I did not feel 100%. I also planned my loop with a bathroom available along the route, in case I needed to take care of some business. 

Ready to run! Sort of. 

As I began my journey, I felt strong. I was amazed that I felt so good. The day before I was curled up in a ball in my bed, feeling awful. I ran really strong and hard for the first 10 miles, it was beautiful outside, and I was enjoying the journey. Nothing hurt, all was well. I was pleased with my pace, and how good I felt. But then, after mile 10, I started feeling a little tired. I also needed more water, I had chugged through it all. I had a plan for Daniel to meet me at a certain time to refill my supply. I ran with anticipation towards our meeting location.

Daniel had to ride a few miles on the scooter to get to me, but he willingly did it. It was like having a superhero come to my rescue. I needed fresh water in order to keep going. Running in the afternoon made it a little warmer than I have been used to. I have not built up to the heat quite yet. Daniel saved me, he brought me what I needed to continue. And just seeing someone was encouraging too... I was getting rather lonely out there on the trails, all alone, just running.

I drank water and ate an orange (while running) that Daniel brought me, and then I said goodbye to Dan as he went home, while I carried on. I kept running in circles, and passing the same construction workers who were probably wondering if I knew where I was going, as I went round and round. I felt OK, I ate some shot blocks and a piece of my protein bar, and I powered through until mile 15. The sun was roasting me, and I was out of water again. I went through more than I had planned on. I had to call and have Daniel set out to save me again. I needed more water. Thank goodness for cell phones! 

I kept running and Daniel met me again, he refilled my water bottles, and I took a brief potty break. While I was using the bathroom, I was questioning my sanity. I looked in the bathroom mirror, and I wondered how I was going to find the strength to finish the last 5 miles. Sure, 5 miles does not sound like a lot, and it isn't... except that I had already run 15! I was very tired at this point, and very alone. Daniel, my hero, went home, and I set back out on my journey on my own. I had to finish my last and final loop. At this point, the construction workers I had passed 3 times already -- and my only company -- had all gone home. It was just me out there. Me and my running shoes. 

I kept going and I felt decent until I hit mile 17. I still had 3 miles to go, and it seemed like my body was just so weary of moving. I talked to myself, taking a mental list of how different parts of my body felt. My feet felt fine, I did not have any blisters, no chaffing anywhere -- nothing really hurt, or was wrong. I was just weary. I was so alone out there, and the trail was long. It was at mile 17 that I removed my earbuds and turned off my music. I had been running to upbeat music the whole time, and allowing the music to carry me forward, but the last few miles were going to require silence, and communication with my Heavenly Father. It was time to ask for help from above. 

I could barely move myself forward for the last few miles. It was at this point that I started to pray. I just begged for help, for strength beyond my own, to carry on. 

I did not feel a sudden burst of speed, or power, that propelled me forward. I was not picked up and carried on a cloud to the finish line. But what I did experience, was simply having the courage to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I found the courage to continue, when I felt I could not take another step. I let go of any concerns about time, or pace, and pretty much everything, and I just focused on taking one step, and then the next. I repeated in my mind some scriptures, and other powerful words, that helped keep my mind positive which allowed my feet to keep going forward. 

The last mile I spent running into the sun. There was a long stretch of sidewalk, and all I could do was look to the light, and keep moving forward. I was so tired -- so very tired -- of pressing forward. I did not want to quit, so onward I went towards the light and the finish line. The finish line was my home. 

And then my Garmin watch beeped. 

20 miles.

I ran 20 miles! 

 Check out those calories burned... crazy! 

What an awesome feeling, to make it to my goal I had set out for the day.

My pace was not as good as I wanted, but I was fine with it being sick. I started strong for the first 10, but the last 10 I slowed way down. I stopped caring about speed somewhere along the way, and just focused on not passing out, and simply pressing forward.

 I hit 20 miles before making it all the way home. I took some time to walk and soak in the moment.

When I arrived home my family was there waiting for me, cheering me on. My parents were in town too, so that was an added bonus. They had decorated a finish line just for me.

What better finish line is there, than making it home?

 My children and my parents were so excited for me, and they all came out to celebrate.

After a cool down, I felt pretty awesome... like I could run another 6.2... Ha! Eek! Seriously, I am scared of the real marathon! I know I can do it, but wow... good thing I have 2 more months to prepare. I need them.

 Here I am, celebrating the finish line. Woo! It was a miracle, truly, a miracle!

2 years ago, I sat in a hospital and watched my husband die in front of me. Since that time, I have been determined to really live, and live with courage. I press forward clinging to courage, and clinging to Christ. I know that with Him, anything is possible. 

In the fight that is life, courage has everything to do with it. 

Never give up! 

Find the Courage to Continue!