Chickamauga Battlefield Marathon

   At 11:21 am on Saturday morning, I crossed the finish line of the Chickamauga Battlefield Marathon. It is a moment in time during my 31 years of life that I had been working towards since July 27th of this year, but really something I had been plodding along and contemplating for many, many years. It is a moment in time that I will not soon forget or replace.

  A marathon is not something that one plans to do the week before, or at least it is not something that most plan to do the week before. I hope not. If you look on the internet, in libraries, in bookstores, in magazines, or talk to runners or coaches, they will point you towards 20, 18, or 16 week training plans. So, in the smallest amount of time, you are talking about 4 months of one's life in order to train for this ultimate race for mere mortals. Yes, I know that here are 31 mile races, 50 mile races, 62 mile races, and the infamous 100 mile races, but I am not talking about those. I do not know for sure the percentage of the population that makes up these "ultrarunners", but I can only assume it is more than small; especially since only 0.1% of the population has completed a marathon.

   So, going back to the moment that I began with: me crossing the finish line. It was a moment that I had spent 4 months preparing for. I had run in the intense heat, in the rain, in the early morning hours, in the late night hours, in the cold, etc. I had charted my way through a 16 week, 112 day training calendar. No, I did not complete every run. No, every run was not my best, but I did complete 98% of the runs and what was required of me. I wrote down the details. I went through two pairs of shoes. I drank countless amounts of water and gatorade. I fretted over each run. Frowned at my watch after running intervals on a track. Celebrated two more miles added to my long run. Worried about a short run gone bad. Smirked over the seemingly lightness I felt after what I thought would be a rough run. In short, I was filled with what is known as the, Spirit of the Marathon, for four months. I know this sounds a little excessive or even cultish, but if you have trained for it and run it, then it may not.

   They say running a marathon will change your life and I am not ready to say that or not. I still feel I have so much to process about what exactly happened a couple of days ago. There were miles I hated it. There were miles that I enjoyed. There were moments when I was completely lost in the facts of motion, moment, and time all surrounded by the beauty of the battlefield. It is these moments that I will treasure the most. I lost count of what mile I was on and thought only of falling leaves (I caught two that day!) and how blessed I was to have people praying for my every step, and a beautiful wife to cheer me on in the cold, and a God who created such a magnificient world for me to enjoy, and this same God who would care about something so simple as a run and a short, balding guy trying to complete it.

  And complete it I did. Ordered the sticker today in order to quietly brag on my car. I am now a 0.1 percenter, or that is what Paula Radcliffe called me when I plugged up my Nike+ SportBand after the race. However, crossing the finish line was nothing like I thought it was going to be. It was more like I hoped it would be. It was exactly like finishing every run that I had completed since I got back into running when I was in my mid-twenties. They had all led to this. It was like a parable coming to life. It was the journey of a million steps finally arriving at the destination. It was a journey that had begun as an effort to make it around the block, through a 5K, through the mountains of N. Alabama, through the streets of Dothan, several 10K's and 15K's around the streets of Macon, and even some half marathons. They had all led me to this place: the finish line.

  I cannot tell you how nervous about the race I actually was. But I know God was out there with me because from the moment I stepped into the crowd of racers before the cannon went off until I crossed the finish line I felt so calm. I felt this voice inside of me telling me that there is nothing to be afraid of today because today I will finish what I had set out to do. I will say that for 23 miles it was almost the easiest run I had done in all of my training or maybe ever. I did not care about passing or being passed. I would slow my breathing and speed up and it felt like nothing was taxing. Miles 23-26 were painful. My mind kept saying what I had left in small increments and my legs and lungs kept telling me it would be okay to go home now, but I slowly prodded along. When I came into sight of the finish line, I took off. It was there to be had. There is a popular t-shirt that they sell at XC meets that says, "The faster you run, the sooner you're done." That became a little mantra of mine. However, 26.2 miles gave me a lot of time to think about all the little things I tell my runners. Some of them I will never say again. Some I will say even more now. And the one that comes to mind is, I tell them to never, never get back into the bus/car/suv, etc and know deep inside that they still had some to give out there. It will haunt them. I know from experience. I tried my very best to live by this for 26.2 miles. And when I crossed that finish line and hugged my wonderful wife. I knew that there was nothing left. I had given my all. It was wonderful. It gave a the smallest glimpse of heaven. I hope I will have done the same. I want to have nothing left.

  Trying to decide if I am hooked or not,
     David