Chicago Marathon: Prayers and Piriformis

"The will of God will not take us where the grace of God cannot sustain us." 

Jim Ryun Olympic silver medalist and world record holder

I have been on the down low about this coming weekend, probably because I have not felt really great about this coming weekends marathon. 

Sunday is Chicago Marathon, 26.2 miles. You might think "Ah, that's no big deal for you..." But it is a big pain in the a$$ right now, literally.

Holy Moly my emotions are on overdrive. The last few weeks have reminded me exactly why I HATE road marathons. They BREAK me. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. 

Up until about 3 weeks ago, training actually had me encouraged and fairly confident for a steep goal I had set for myself. Sure, I experienced the usual aches and pains (because let's be honest, at 51 years old, I wake up with these even without running,) but I was in a good place with my body and I thought my body wasn't overly angry at me. 

 

Then came the slow fade as my body quit forgiving me. NO more chances. The icing on the CAKE...Growlers Gallup 10 mile run. I can run 100 miles, and my body forgives me more than a 10-mile run. This race literally was a pain in the a$$- my piriformis is so angry at me. 

So here I am 3 days out trying to convince myself of new goals and then also trying to find peace with them...though I'm not even sure what those goals actually are. 

I always try to find the silver lining in my misfortunes, a little lesson, and always try to hear what the Lords trying to say to me. 

It seems the only thing I keep hearing is "Marathons are your nemesis, if you weren't broken you will be!"

I have stuck to the taper in hopes that Motrin counts as cross training and recovery. Today, I ran 4 whopping miles, and I would have to say "healed and recovered where NOT how I would describe my run! 

But I scheduled a massage in hopes they could fix any damage I had. It was more like a medieval torture demo, I was sweating and clenching my teeth. 

In closing, Here I am, like most of my pre-race posts-living on a prayer. It's becoming morbidly habitual, back at it again, living on a prayer again and the same slightly delusional hope: Lord, some clarity would be great, it you could untangle those thoughts, healing would be fabulous, and peace- please, the Peace that passes all understanding. 

THE RUNDOWN:

Many if you wonder WHY I keep doing this, knowing injury is part of my gamble. But this morning, on my 4-mile run, I was reminded of ANOTHER reason I continue to run. 

The air was crisp, pure October in Michigan. The sky was a soft, endless blue, and the dew drifted, dissolving in the first light. As the slow mist lifted, glory came alive around me. 

Even as my body felt broken, my heart was whole. Because this is where I meet the Lord-out in His masterpiece, surrounded by beauty that outshines the pain. This is what triumphs over the trial.

His Glory is Great

I would Love some prayers. And any opportunity to Shine His Glory in this marathon. 

Date nite to see Red Clay Strays

In Peace, Not Pieces, 

Anita

Running on Empty

"When your running on empty, God's grace is the fuel that carries you." Billy Graham

The Ugly Finish

 Four hours on the expressway, a solo trip after work from Michigan to Indiana. The sky was painted blue without interruption, just like my wild and crazy thoughts. 

The traffic on 69 was moving fast and steady, the cars pushing well past the speed limit, again like my tangled thoughts. These thoughts moved quickly, weaving in and out like the lanes of traffic. 

My oldest son was moving to North Carolina, my heart was heavy, it was my deceased mother's birthday, and it was the anniversary of me ringing that cancer bell.  

I was headed south to meet a group of women for a Prisilla Shirer conference, and the solo drive was the only thing that made sense to navigate my head space. 

It would be a simple weekend, yet I knew even before I arrived, that these hours would not be ordinary. In the space of just a couple evening, our hearts would draft close, bonded as sisters in Christ through laughter, prayer and the power of His Word.  

10%

Priscilla spoke about something she called the 10%. This is a concept I've often joked about with my husband, but this came across a little different. 

"Where is your FAITH in the 10%?"

My ears were pierced, and my attention was intentional, this is the 10% I see so many I love including myself lose steam. 

That four-hour drive home was the same beautiful drive only my thoughts were flowing differently. 

The 10% concept was driven home when I realized the gas gauge crept lower and lower. 

When the warning light flickered on, it was a sharp reminder: I NEEDED FUEL. 

Still, I pushed it further than I should have. 

My car had warned me.

Andy had warned me-"Don't wait, the gas stations are few and far between." Yet I kept driving, ignoring the signs, until the worry set in and my thoughts started racing. 

And I thought with a subtle laugh....

This is exactly what happens when we let our spiritual tanks run too low. 

• The Warning Signs of Low Fuel: a short temper, a weary heart, a prayer life that grows thin. Just like the dashboard light, the spirit nudges us, but we often brush it off. 
• The Distractions of Running Empty: Instead of focusing on where God is leading, we're consumed with whether we'll even make it another mile. FEAR replaces FAITH and anxiety takes the driver's seat. 
• When Fear Settles in at 10%: The question isn't just "Do I have enough?' rather "Am I trusting Him with the little I have?" Even in the warning zones of life, FAITH must stay steady. 

The RUNDOWN

And sometimes, when the tank is low, it's not just about pulling in for fuel, its about slowing down. I was so busy keeping up with traffic I wasn't paying attention to how quickly my tank was emptying. 

I eased off the accelerator when the gauge was in the red, hoping to stretch the gas a little farther. I laughed again as I saw the correlation. 

I felt this same thing only physically on Sunday night. 

Growlers Gallup 10 mile race. When I arrived home that afternoon from the conference I had a race in Detroit just a few hours later. 

The race started at 4pm, it was 85' and I was surrounded by fast runners. Our friend Donny was going to try to pace me. By mile 6, I was completely depleted, running on empty, and ready to quit. Donny slowly began pulling farther and farther ahead and I knew I couldn't hold that pace. So I slowed down. I didn't finish the way I pictured, but I still finished just different, steadier, and with enough left in the tank to cross the finish line.  

Sometimes the warning light comes on and instead of pushing harder the best thing to do is to ease the pace, trust God with the miles ahead and let Him refuel us along the way. 

1st place in my age group

"But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength; they will soar on wings like eagles, they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."  Isaiah 40:31

 

In Peace not Pieces,

Anita

Its just easier than...

"But Jesus Himself would often slip away to the wilderness and pray." Luke 5:15

When my body breaks on the trail, I know how to respond to it. 

Give me the honest ache of muscle and bone- the fierce language of physical pain and I can keep going. 

I can push myself into a path of unknown, I can cover miles of unplanned, and I can tumble through angry terrain and let the hard work carve me down to TRUTH. 

Let my heartbeat pound like a battle cry,

Let desperation pierce me.

And I will meet you another mile. 

I can sweat until my shirt clings and I my eyes sting and I taste the end is near.

That is the kind of grief I can manage: finite, accountable, earned. 

But the kind of pain that lives in yesterday- the slow, quiet undoing hope-is a different kind of torment. 

Grief and disappointment will try to bury is, be our undertaker. It wants to tuck me into a confusing sleep where mothing makes sense. 

The sweat of despair on the day, or my soul crying in hopelessness.

The pain of the mundane, the distractions, the disappointments of yesterday's hauntings and today's realities want to bury me and leave me lost in a slumber of confusion. 

SO I RUN. 

I run into the woods, through the backroads and into the wind because the path lets me speak the language I know. I can cry out among pines and rocks and hear an answer that feels like God's own breath. 

Out there the pain has edges, its work I can breathe through, a mountain to climb, a pulse to follow. 

I can manage the mountain and the agony it takes to conquer it. 

But that mountain of mishaps, the mountain of miscommunication, that mountain of mistakes I curl inside myself. 

Even Jesus went into the wilderness alone: "But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed" Luke 5:16

In His solitude, He sought His Father. 

In Mine, I DO the SAME. 

Let it HURT.

Let it STING.

Let it BLEED and teach me how to rise again. 

This is why I run when it hurts so bad. 

Not to escape sorrow, but because in the honest, intimate aching motion of my body I find a way through the sorrow and a clearer place to listen for the Voice of The LORD. 

THE RUNDOWN

Even Jesus "often withdrew to lonely places and prayed." 

Let's say it like it is: Pain is heavy, but it is not wasted. 

Let us be reminded that solitude and struggle can draw us closer to the Lord. And we al need more Jesus. 

Out running or in my writing, pain has its place-as it does for you. 

Pain can strip us down, make us vulnerable and desperately afraid of the raw honestly revealed, but it makes space for the Lord to manage the pain that I cannot. 

In Peace, Not Pieces, 

Anita

Flip the Script

 "You can't always choose the outcome, but you can always choose to keep moving forward." Kara Goucher

A few weeks ago, I got injured. I had been so excited for my comeback at Marquette. The last time I ran Marquette was in 2019 when I was finishing my chemo from breast cancer. Then this year, I couldn't wait to go back strong and try to crush it. 

Same area, 6 years later..

When I realized, I wasn't going to have the race I hoped for due to injury, I prayed and pouted. I grieved my expectations and then made peace with them, remembering not my will, but Thy will be done. I didn't use my setback as an excuse NOT to try, nor did I let go of faith that the Lord would still show up. I kept hope, but I also carried peace-the kind that surpasses all understanding. And honestly, that peace had left the deepest imprint on my heart.

Even my client Jean asked me when I was injured, "Why don't you just not do it?" But for me, giving up was never an option.  It wasn't about proving something-it was about showing up trusting God, and running the race set before me, however it looked. 

The truth is, I didn't make my goal. And that could have left me drowning in emotional carnage-disappointment, discouragement, frustration, all heavy things we often feel. Sometimes life feels like lament, and other times like loss. But more often than not, when we step back, we realize it can just as easily turn into laughter. 

Because the truth is, we often take ourselves too seriously, and when we do, we risk missing the silver linings God has tucked into the struggle. We get stuck on stupid instead of seeing the sacred. 

This whole perspective was stirred in me again through my pastors sermon this past weekend: Don't waste your tragedy. I gave it a little different spin. God can use the pain and the pieces for His purpose and you can still shine in that darkness. 

The Rundown:

It's your race, your journey. Whether on the trail or in life it may not look like what you planned. Truth is life doesn't always give us everything we want. But learn to flip the script. When surrendered, even loss can turn into laughter and lament can move to life giving lessons. 

"And the peace of God that transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." Phil 4:7

In Peace, Not Pieces, 

Anita

Marquette 50 RECAP. Fight to the finish

"It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lives at all."  J.K. Rowling 

I had a couple dreadful obstacles I was praying would not occur on race day, one of them showed up and one of them miraculously never appeared. 

The Wednesday before race day I came home around 9pm from work limping, my knee was trashed. Andy looked concerned and without thought, grabbed me pillows, ice and Motrin. The truth is that my knee got injured 3 weeks prior on a training run in Marquette. It was swollen, angry and locking up on me. I had come to grips with my injury the night before the race. I had prayed fervently, asking, almost begging others to pray for me but ultimately owned that I had a good chance of DNF-ing my 50 miler race. 

My other fear was rain, running on those rocks in the rain made me tremble, however, that fear dissolved when it stormed Friday night. 

MARQUETTE 50. 

Race start: 5:30am

Temperature: 67'

STARTING LINE. 

"...I believe this race is one of the hardest races in the Midwest..." the race director shared as we were ready to head out into the darkness. 

"5, 4, 3, 2, 1, GO!"

I was way closer to the front of the pack then I knew my legs should be going, however, I had been informed to get out in the front as quick as you can or you will get caught in the bottleneck. 

"GO ANITA"

That voice of overflowing encouragement echoed through the trees. Two seconds later "Let's GOOO NITA!!" then of course my favorite seconds behind those, "I LOVE YOU NITA!" Laughing with all the runners I yell back, "HI, I AM NITA, HE LOVES ME!" We all laughed, a laugh and love I would need to carry me another 49 miles. 

Truth is, Andy wasn't planning on going. But as my biggest fan he would be crewing me for the next 13 hours. 

The First 11 LOOP. 

The first 11 miles was a small loop of sweat. The trail was tight with both the 50K and the 50 miler racers. You had to keep up or get off the trail. I was confused at the amount of sweat that was dripping off me. It was so muggy even my thoughts were sweating. 

Running felt foreign, between the darkness and the dampness I felt out of my elements. 

 

The First 20mile LOOP.

 I felt good knocking ot the first loop, but I was already having a full-board meeting with my bad decisions. I had soaked through all my clothes which is a first for me. I just kept drinking. The course was well marked, and the aid stations were great. But I began getting free commercials of runners on the side of the trail wincing in pain from cramps. Concerned that could be my future self,

I drank more!

The falls began adding up. I had a beautiful roll that made me look like a stunt man but the voices inside me were thanking God for helping me miss the jagged rocks or gnarly cluster of roots. 

Each mile, I wondered how much pounding my knee could withstand before it sidelined me. 

More so than pounding it was the pivoting trying to avoid all the life altering rocks and roots. 

This loop would have to be done 2 times, clockwise and counterclockwise climbing, Sugar Loaf, Sugar Cube, Top of the Mountain, Bareback and Hogback. By the time I would finish the race I would have climbed 9 peaks. 

My confidence was cracking even though I felt fine,  I was debating whether I was brave or just plain dumb. 

The Second 20mile LOOP. 

Andy had made it to several aid stations, knowing exactly what I needed. I actually felt more confident to knock out the next 20 miles. 

God was performing a miracle with my knee, and I was not going to question His healing power over that lame limb. 

The terrain on the peaks were treacherous and I found myself very conservative in hopes I wouldn't provoke my knee or anything else.

I would run as quick as I could when I could to try and make up time from my pathetic climbing skills and it was working UNTIL one of my nightmares came true... 

At first it was a trickle I questioned. I thought maybe it was my sweat dripping off my sopping wet hair, or maybe it was from the trees. I didn't have to question it long when the skies opened up and the thunder growled. Even in the deep woods I was getting pelted so hard I couldn't even see. I tried to feel for my hat, tucked in the back of my pack but the rain blinded me, with a couple minutes of stopping I retrieved my hat and found instant relief. 

A flood of fear infected my brief confidence. I doubled down on my prayers. "LORD, please protect me on the rocks, keep me safe, upright, please please please..." 

Yes, I begged.

Thunder and lightning manifested the sky. I took the climbs even more conservative, slipping and sliding both up and in total trepidation down. I went down on my butt and I went up climbing some on all fours. 

After over 2 hours of rain, it stopped but the trail was destroyed. 

Finishing it up. 

I knew I was not going to be able to recover my time in the rain, I had calculated I lost between 20 and 25 minutes in those two hours. 

BUT my KNEE FELT so strong, so I ran harder feeling the Lord's strength and perseverance in me. 

I also ran sick. At mile 42, I began dry heaving. Andy had put tailwind in my flask by accident, and it makes me sick. 

I swallowed a GU chanting to myself "MIND OVER MATTER". I knew I needed to drink but all I had in my flasks were the dreaded TAILWIND. I kept running through my churning stomach. 

I ran with a couple people here and there but at aid station 47 Andy was there. He got me in and out with fresh water and a phone call telling me I was probably not going to be able to make up my time.

I might not make my goal, but I was going to give it hell trying. 

Holding back the bile that had built up in my stomach I kept moving.  I had 2 big climbs that knocked me back into reality but I ran better on those muddy roots than I had been. 

At mile 52, Andy and Mark showed up on the trail to help me to the finish, I picked up that pace with both of them chasing after me. 

Everything was chaffed, soaked and burning. I pulled off my vest and passed it back to Andy as I dug in that final mile. 

THE RUNDOWN:

FEAR-Fear of falling, slipping- my worst nightmare came true,,,THE RAIN. 

I was alone in the woods. The thunder shook and the rain pummeled me, even deep inside the woods I felt vulnerable to the elements. 

There was so much uncertainty at the outcome of the race. I had math-ed out my miles without these elements of disruption.

Over 30% of the racers didn't FINISH. 

But not only do I put my FAITH in God, but the Lord also gave me ANDY. 

Andy never stops believing in me. We have been together since we were 15 and this man still chases after me! He chased me at another race, feeding me pretzels, exchanging my water, kissing me goodbye and encouraging me in my desperation. 

This race like many others would look a lot different without Andy being there for me. Andy got up at 4am, chased me through the woods, got rained on more than once because he believes in me, because he loves me and I am so happy to have him. 

And humbly thanking the LORD for His provision and truly miraculous power over my knee. I am still in awe at running 50 miles in that terrain and my knee NEVER hurting.

I may not have hit my A goal, it wasn't the finish I pictured but it was the finish I fought for. 

CONGRATS to my friend Erica who took 1st female overall! 

In Peace, Not Pieces, 

Anita

Just to be Clear: Marquette 50m

 

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid, do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9

This coming Saturday I am running Marquette 50 miler. I am a bit rattled. 

But for starts the course is two loops through the rugged trails of the Upper Peninsula. I will be running across all four mountain tops, Sugar Bear, Sugar Cube, Top of the Mountain, and finishing on Hogback to end the suffering. 

It is going to be hot and I am showing up INJURED which has robbed me of my confidence going into the race. My last Marquette training run three weeks ago ate me up pretty good and it was only 21 miles. To add injury to insult that following Monday on a local training trail run I exercised more than my legs, I attempted to climb a tree. The old Bertha broke with all my weight hanging from her and I fell backwards, I have had a angry wrist for 3 weeks. I am way to old to be climbing trees and clearly not the sharpest tool in the shed. 

The truth is, this whole training cycle chapter is a patchwork of chaos. 

I started my taper early- in Alaska, on a family vacation. Nut in true "runner math' fashion, I somehow connected 65 miles last week. Granted, I counted every run, hike and walk through the Alaskan Frontier!  

Not so shocking was the 4,444 feet of elevation I had for the week up and down mountain that I left tear stains on. 

JUST TO BE CLEAR

"For me the greatest beauty always lies in the greatest clarity."

Life is full of moments where we ask people to follow us and often times it is places we have never been. Its part of the adventures of life. 

I am always leading people with a smile and some ridiculous bright idea to unknown outcomes. I can't always offer certainty, but I can offer clarity. 

Clarity comes from an honest place if I am being honest.

But certainty can pretend. 

RUNDOWN:

Pray I don't trip and fall. 

RACE CLARITY

• Distance: 50 miles (two loops) 
• Course: describe as moderate to difficult
• Goal Time: Sub 13 hours (15min/mi pace)
• Conditions: Forecast around 75'
• Training test:
• 21 miles in 5:25 (15:29 pace)
• 2,956 ft elevation
• Projected Race Finish
• Goal A: 12h 50min
• Goal B: 13h 30min
• Goal C: 14h 15min

HONEST PLAN

UP UP UP 

• Run with the best the Lord gives me.
• Stay UPRIGHT, I can not afford to fall on my wrist.
• Stay conservative in my pace, I am going into this race broken.
• TRUST the LORD with it all. 

"The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps. Proverbs 16:9

Me, Sarah and Erica on top of one of those mountain!

SO JUST to BE CLEAR: I am not 100% sure how this race will turn out. But I know my plan, my mindset and my prayers. And that's enough to move forward.  Because while uncertainty is unavoidable, being unclear is a choice I don't want to travel. Being unclear adds more fear for me. I don't need to have a set expectation, I can be flexible, but I have to have a plan, a plan that pivots. 

Clarity doesn't guarantee a perfect outcome, but it does allow me to take the next step with a little more confidence. That's all we really need, one clear step at a time. 

In Peace, Not Pieces, 

Anita

    

Then Sings my Soul.

I was holding the universe arrogantly, confidently, pridefully when death boldly came in to wreck my world. 

I touched it. or maybe it touched me. 

It invited me, held me, captured me, and wouldn't let go. 

Death. And it wouldn't let go. 

Death whispered gently to me, luring me into his arms. 

Day to night, I felt the grips of life release me. 

My spirit drunken by its grip, vulnerable to the power it possessed over me. 

***** 

I sang the words as if I was the only one in the auditorium. 

"Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee

How great Thou art, how great Thou art.."

With tears streaming down my face, unaware of those worshipping around me, I sang wondering why death lost its grip on me. 

There is not a day that goes by that I will ever forget the smell of death, the taste of death, the invitation to death.

It is the peace of death that haunts me- that quiet place you feel yourself warming up to, the one you've' spent so long fighting, only finding yourself beginning to welcome. 

I don't hold the universe haughtily like I did before cancer, with a tight grip fists and reckless pride. Truth is I have learned to not hang on to a lot these days. 

I hold close to My Lord. And I know He is the one that holds me. 

Thats what DEATH will do to you. It will wreck you, break you, dissemble you. 

You succumb to it all the while fighting for something. Fighting for all the things you think matter, all the dreams you believe are substantial, you're fighting your past, your present and you convoluted future as if you possess the power to overcome your future demise. 

Oh, you silly human. 

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear not evil, for You are with me; Your rod and your staff, they comfort me."  Psalms 23:4

In the shadow of death, I learned what it means to be held.

To be carried.

To be Known by ONE. 

Life is beautiful. And fragile. Live it intentionally, with forgiveness, love, compassion. 

May these words encourage you and be an invitation to hold people close, NOT things, not ideas or not even yourself...Sometimes we cling to tight to OURSELVES. 

IN PEACE, NOT Pieces,

Anita