Sometimes as we run our race we falter and we get weak and it seems like we're not going to be able to continue. There was a time when I was trying to qualify for the Boston Marathon that such an event took place.
The Boston Marathon for me was the pinnacle of the sport I loved. It was the temple, holy ground. I knew the long history of THE marathon. I knew the stories of Heartbreak Hill, Hopkinton, Boylston Street and Cemetery Hill. I longed to run those hallowed streets. But to run Boston you have to earn it. It is not given away. It requires you to prove you are worthy. You have to qualify. And qualification was what drove me to run faster for farther.
I have chosen the Chicago Marathon to try and qualify for the Boston. It was an amazing day in Chicago that October morning and everything seemed perfect for me to run a qualifying time. I had been training so well. I was faster than I had ever been. I had just set a personal record running the Tulsa Run in under an hour. I started out with the perfect pace and had run smooth and under control for 2 hours. I was seconds ahead of pace and had kept the pace for nearly 18 miles. I knew if I was just able to continue this pace that I was running I would qualify. I was excited but also knew there were 8 miles to go and work to be done.
It happened insidiously at first, I began to feel a little less spring in my stride. Every overpass seemed steeper. Every corner seemed further away. I started to struggle, the pace became hard to carry and I started to feel like maybe today was not going to be my day. I had tried to qualify before only to hit a wall and taper off and miss the qualifying standard. It had happened just 13 months before in the Wichita Marathon. Wichita had left me with more questions than answers. I was beginning to think Boston was just not in my capabilities.
So there had definitely been other days that just weren't my day. I had been on pace before, for a while, but then just couldn't keep the pace. But something would be different about this day. Fate and a friend would write a different ending on Michigan Avenue. My friend, Chris Madison, was also running in Chicago that day. His father and I had worked together and run together for years. Chris was a much faster runner than me. He had posted times consistently faster than me at all distances.
Chris was a true athlete! He had been a wrestler and had a will power of iron when it came to suffering. He had become a strong runner and Triathlete as well. And on that day in Chicago he had been running a faster pace than me and he was well ahead of me. I never expected to see Chris on the course because he always ran a faster pace than me. I knew I would see him waiting patiently after the finish on that sunny Chicago day. I figured he would probably finish 15 or so minutes ahead of me.
Chris was a talented young man. He was strong, lean and muscular. He had less than 10% bodyfat I am sure. He was confident and never let up. He was a great artist and a creative aspiring musician. He was the type of man that people wanted to be around. I loved to run with Chris, I knew he would make me work hard and get uncomfortable. I could not keep up with him, but I loved to try. He was like his father, relentless and resolute. Nothing stopped Chris.
Chris had been training for a triathlon and had dreams of qualifying for the Ironman World Championships. He had competed in an Ironman qualifier in Utah and shortly after the swim was underway a powerful storm came in. Many of the swimmers were blown off course and the organizers were forced to cancel the event in the middle. They sent out watercraft of all sorts to pick up swimmers. One athlete actually drowned in the swim. When the boats got to Chris, he and 2 other swimmers refused to get in the boat. Chris had just passed half way and he said, "I made it this far, I will make it back". He ended up being blown off course more than 2 miles and had to find a dirt path back to the transition zone once he made it back to dry land. He was not a quitter!
Because I knew these things about my friend, I was shocked when I was reaching the 20 mile marker to see Chris not very far in front of me. My immediate thought was why am I so close to Chris at this point. I knew I was running a solid pace, but not that fast. And on top of that, I was catching up to him. It was obvious that Chris was not having his best day. He was struggling.
He had set a strong pace and it had cost him. Now he was starting to falter and he was losing that pace. It had become clear in his mind that he was not going to finish in the time he had hoped. When this happens to a runner, it is demoralizing. It breaks your will. The legs have started to physical give in but to a much more devastating degree, the mind raises the white flag. To some runners they might think I will just slow my pace and finish and be happy. This was not in Chris' nature. I am sure it broke his heart to have to slow down. It was a sense of failure, asking yourself why have my legs and lungs betrayed me. It is not easy to overcome. And the last thing you care about at that moment is how someone else is doing.
However, when he saw me his first response was to inquire about my pace. He knew I was trying to qualify for Boston and how important that was for me. I couldn't help but think had I been the one struggling, would I have been worried about someone else or just sulking because of my predicament. But Chris was genuinely concerned about me. He wanted me to succeed that Saturday in the Windy City. That is the heart of a warrior! If he was losing his fight, he was looking for another battle to jump into.
I told him that I was right on pace to qualify for Boston. But that I was struggling to keep the pace. I was fighting valiantly but I knew I was facing a crisis of diminishing reserves. To maintain the Boston pace I would have to run the rest of the way faster than Chris was running now. I thought it was nice to see Chris momentarily, It gave me a boost! But I also knew I would have to run past Chris and carry on alone. I did not know if I had that in the tank.
When I think back, Chris had to make a decision. He could have continued the slower pace he had settled into and probably finished comfortably, but slower than he hoped. Or he could pick up his pace to push me and eventually he would just give out and have to limp home. This would be a great sacrifice if he chose the latter. I never had to ask or wonder what he would do. Without a moments hesitation he stepped in line with my tempo and began to tirelessly encourage me. He spoke inspiration into me with both his legs and his lips. How could I even consider slowing down with what Chris was doing…for me!
Chris picked up his pace! As much as it was hurting him, as much as it was costing him, he picked up his pace to push me to my goal. Selfless! For the next 2 miles he ran at the pace that I had to run if I would qualify for the Boston Marathon. A pace that was uncomfortable. Tearing down muscle fibers with every stride. At this pace, I was starting to struggle and Chris was dying with every meter because he had smashed into the wall miles before. But he kept fighting.
He knew how important it was to me and he knew if he could give me just a little encouragement and push me along then possibly I could qualify for Boston on that day. Chris pushed himself beyond the limits that he had available that day. He pushed through suffering. One of my favorite quotes goes like this:
It's at the borders of pain and suffering that the men are separated from the boys!
-Emil Zatopek
Emil Zatopek knew what it took to venture into pain and suffering on the running course. That day Chris was truly a MAN. A man not only in strength of mind and body, but a man in humility and love for another.
He paced me for 2 long hard agonizing miles. We talked for those 2 miles and he encouraged me. He told me I'm too close to not finish this off. I had to continue to work at that same pace! Finally at about the 24th mile Chris could go no farther at that pace. His legs had betrayed him the last time. Chris told me "you've got 2 miles to go! Keep going at this pace, push it! I'll be pushing you from behind!"
And with those last words of motivation, Chris could go no more. He backed off the pace and fought to the finish. Just knowing how much that he had sacrificed to push me those 2 miles, just knowing the pain he had put himself through, gave me uncontrolled strength. An athlete who was really a stronger runner than me had breathed new life into my legs, lungs and HEART!!
It just wasn't Chris' day but he rose above that because he wanted to push me along. I qualified for Boston on that day by just 8 seconds! A precious, beautiful, amazing 8 seconds. I sprinted down Michigan avenue so fast that my legs went numb. But I would have never qualified if it wasn't for Chris pushing me along. I'll never forget that day on the streets of Chicago as I flew down Michigan Avenue towards the finish line. I knew that somewhere behind me was an athlete, a friend, a man who pushed himself beyond his limit that day to carry me along. To push my pace! To pull me up to a level that he knew I could reach.
That's what life is all about! The real man never hesitates to sacrifice for the sake of another. There are times when it's just not our day, sometimes the struggle is too real for us that day, but we have the opportunity to lift others up. Just like iron sharpens iron, it comes down to our willpower to continue to be the pacer. To push someone to greater things than they could accomplish by themselves.
Courage is not having the strength to go on, it is going on when you don't have the strength.
-Theodore Roosevelt
WHAT WILL YOU DO LIFT UP SOMEONE THAT IS FALTERING??
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