Why I Finished Last at the Maryville Marathon

As a reminder from last week’s column, I experienced an interesting journey a few weeks ago. I trained for and completed a full marathon. In “How I Finished Number One at the Maryville Marathon”, I outlined some of the pitfalls I ran into as I strove to complete this “race” (a term I use loosely to describe accepting defeat from the first step), and some general thoughts on the subject. Not to be outdone in the realm of odd “wisdom” on the subject, I have more to say. Keep the good (and glorify God), delete the bad (and blame me)…and here we go.
I finished last at the Maryville Marathon for a good reason. First I would be remiss if I didn’t lay out two counterfeit causes for my 7th place out of seven finish in my age/gender category. I didn’t finish last due to poor self-esteem. Our culture has raised to cult status the concept of self-esteem. Missionary Paul Washer refers to self-esteem thusly: “And to give you a thing about us being more feeble and not having the self esteem, our country and this world is overrun with this disgusting malady of self esteem. Our greatest problem is that we esteem self more than we esteem God.” Self-esteem, in our Post-Christian American culture, is in some ways a potential false backbone to an otherwise invertebrate existence. We carefully craft everything we say so as to not offend (unless you are a Christian or are Christ Himself). We stave off the wickedness of prayer in schools, we dumb down winning in sporting events, and we politically correctly filter everything we say or do to foster maximum self-esteem in ourselves and our kids. I certainly understand this mindset. I have been made fun of for being overweight off and on for years. In my early teen years I was asked by well meaning (?) girls “since I was so nice why couldn’t I have been cute like my brother?”. No one likes to feel bad. My point is that we have hyper-stressed the shielding of every poor soul to the pain of defeat/rejection to the point that we have created beings so utterly shocked at their failure that they walk away in bewilderment when Simon Cowell rightfully compares their singing to a mad cow disease-ridden bovine. We need to find the balance between self-esteem worship and preparation for reality. We spend so much time dwelling on ourselves and our felt needs that we value self over God and make decisions in life accordingly. Sure I am not thrilled about weight problems and the physical/cosmetic toll it has placed on my body. Nevertheless, my self-esteem didn’t cause me to finish 7th out of 7. (Read Romans 12:3; Phil. 2:3.)
Secondly, I didn’t finish last because I lacked faith. My believing me to be a runner does not make it so. Many a televangelist (I won’t mention specific names, but one whose name rhymes with Ole Josteen comes to mind), will tell you that if you have faith, you can bind God into a contractual whipping boy to do your sovereign will. Name it and claim it/ health and wealth “theology” makes us a “god” and, if we have enough faith we can do absolutely anything, including win marathons. If we fail, it is our fault as we don’t have “the favor” (i.e. enough faith). Justin Peters’ wonderful ministry is dedicated to a Biblical examination of this ilk (email me with questions). I do have absolute faith in Jesus Christ and the merit of His death, burial, and resurrection to take the punishment for my massive sin debt. I have repented of said sins and believe in Him solely thanks to His grace. I have faith, therefore, that amazingly I will have eternal life in Heaven when I die. I did not, however, have faith that I would win the marathon. I look at my stretch-marked carcass and compare it to the chiseled physiques of my adversaries, and I knew it would take a miracle for me to win. I also knew if God had granted me a miraculous win (one on par with the parting of the Red Sea), I would have became even more prideful and would have sinned. God spared me, and vicariously you, the stumble. (Read Eph 2:8-10.)
To conclude, the reason I lost the race is simple: I run like a drooling tiger-marked, geriatric challenged wildebeest. I am not gifted in running. Hurting my foot didn’t cause me to lose. I knew these realities from the start. I wanted to teach my kids perseverance in the race as well as the value of hard work, but I had no delusions of grandeur. My only hope (nearly realized) was a massive monsoon/whirlwind to sweep away my competition to a safe location at, say, Taco Bell. In the end, without a meteorological event, I finished last…but was blessed in the process. Thank you both Filthy Rags readers/dogandponyradio.com listeners for praying for me! I may run in the Bass Pro race in November, but, if so, it will be a much shorter 10k for a nice souvenir t-shirt and another opportunity to share Christ with people. God Bless and Keep them Doggies Rollin’!

How I Finished Number One at the Maryville Marathon

June 12th was the placeholder for one of the most interesting events of my life. I had spent the previous four months training rigorously with the end goal in mind to do one pivotal thing: run a marathon. On a historical note, the marathon race commemorates the run of the soldier Pheidippides from a battlefield near Marathon, Greece, to Athens in 490 B.C (Note: I am relatively certain he was running from bullies making fun of his name contrary to historical references to the contrary). The trek involves running 26 miles and 385 yards to parallel Mr. P’s Paul Reverian pattern. I would like to briefly state the Christian significance of this run to me. I may stretch Scripture in a way only paralleled by late night televangelists and Christian Bookstore junk counters here, but I pray God can somehow get Glory from these thoughts. In machine-gun format, here it goes:
The weather: I had spent months dwelling on the prospects of a 95 degree day with humidity. Much of my training had taken place in the comfort of either my cool basement on the “treadmill of doom” or on the roads in the springtime. Changing the climate (back off Al, that’s not what I mean) to a more seasonally appropriate one was certainly a matter that tested my faith. Come race day, God put a beautiful spin on this concern. Rather than a scalding day like I deserved or a 60 degree paradise that I prayed for, God brought a severe thunderstorm. The first half hour took place in a toad-strangling, lightning sizzling downpour. The rest of the day, minus a brief shower late in the marathon, was in the high 70s and cloudy. God is Good.
The consequences: The weather’s consequences, other than a more comfortable run heat-wise, were two-fold for me. First, it fried my MP3 player. I had trained for months with sermons from my favorite preachers playing to keep my mind off the pain. God clearly had other ideas. I ended up essentially praying for the entire marathon. Not a pharisaical showy, uber-religious minus substance type of prayer, but prayer nonetheless. Second, it led to me trusting in God on every step. Funny how you hear yourself run when you listen. You hear every breath as well. Your mind doesn’t tune out or focus on an external thing like a sermon…it just listens. I am not one to say that I (or most others for that matter) hear audible voices from God, but in my soul I sensed God with me every step of the run.
Pain: I ran the first half of the race (there was two 13+ mile laps over the hills and through the woods to reach the Grandmother’s place/finish line) at a slightly more brisk pace than I usually ran. I was running with the big dogs or little ones in this case. Then it happened…I stepped on a providentially placed rock in the bull’s eye of my arch of my foot. I felt like I had had my foot dissected by a clumsy seventh grader who hadn’t finished scalpel-safety training. My foot, being protected by my size 13 Reeboks, wasn’t cut, but the damage was done. From that step to the end of the race I slowed down drastically as every other step sent a sharp pain through my body. Foot pain is no stranger for someone who used to be 400+ lbs, mind you, but this was different. It threw my stride off which hurt my hips which left me waddling like the Emperor Penguins we saw the next day at the Omaha Zoo. This reminded me of a danger that we all face in our spiritual race, if you will… that of pride. Any hope of avoiding embarrassment time-wise was quickly dashed as I lumbered along like a wounded hippo waiting to be lion food. Pride, for runners, is something to be extremely conscious of. The runners there spent hundreds on clothes, equipment, and external things only to finish with stains ruining their garments from blood (apparently it’s a “runner’s thing” to bleed out of every rubbed/worn spot….sorry for the image.) Regardless, it was easy the previous few months to spout off the fact that I was running this race to all who would hear it. Pride lurks and is sinful. Proverbs 11:2(KJV) says “When pride cometh, then cometh shame: but with the lowly is wisdom.” And Proverbs 29:23 reiterates “A man's pride shall bring him low: but honor shall uphold the humble in spirit.” I needed the attitude adjustment to my pride that this well placed rock afforded. (Note: I would title this piece “How I Finished Number One at the Maryville Marathon” because I was given runner number one either because I signed up first of because I am alphabetically favorable as an A.). Tack to Pride the idolatry one can easily fall into from spending too much time training (sorry family), and the sport, like many perfectly good pursuits, can cause one to stumble.
Conclusion: I would say that the run was a good experience for me. I was surrounded by a loving family and friends whom I deeply appreciated for coming. I grew in my love for the Lord through trusting Him in His faithfulness in the quiet of the race despite my unfaithfulness in pride and otherwise. My racing days are likely now over as I move to another, more edifying pursuit, that of teaching myself Biblical Greek. Thanks for your prayers and support to all and I hope to see you again here or on the radio program Wednesday nights at 8:30 on 107.7 or at dogandponyradio.com. God Bless!