In just three days, I’ll complete my 25th marathon. Even more noteworthy, I’ll hit this milestone at the Boston Marathon—the most prestigious road race in the world. It took me three years and five attempts to qualify for the race. I had to earn the right to run twenty-six miles through the streets of Boston on Monday. I can’t believe it’s finally here.
I never intended to run this much. What started with a simple physical challenge (to see if I could run a half marathon) snowballed into my running 2-3 marathons a year.
Despite over a decade of pursuing this hobby, I never seem to have a suitable answer for why I do it.
Mostly, I tell people that I run to stay in shape. Obviously there are limitless ways to keep healthy without running dozens of miles each week. Still, I appreciate the marathon because it rewards persistence. You run hundreds of miles over the course of months just to prepare for race day. You can’t fake this race. It demands consistency and that carrot at the end of the stick is what pushes me . . . and keeps me healthy.
But one of the reasons for my running pursuits is something I’m always hesitant to share.
A few years ago, I read an interview with a professional runner. She was asked what the most accomplished marathoners have in common. I remember her answer still today.
She responded, "the very best marathon runners have mastered the ability to suffer."
See, the human body can handle distances from ten to twenty miles fairly well, provided the person is in some semblance of shape. But once you go beyond that twenty mile distance, the body begins to break down and the athlete encounters atypical pain. This is why consistent training is important: for distance runners; with the proper preparation, a runner is able to push through the pain the appears at longer distances.
It ain't easy, no matter how prepared you are. But that’s the challenge of running 26.2 miles. You push your body through temporary hardships to see how much you can endure.
Marathons are essentially people paying race organizers for the opportunity to suffer.
I don’t share this to sound masochistic, but it’s one of the reasons I like the marathon: it hurts. There are few areas in life where we embrace the suffering. It’s part of the human experience, but one we tend to avoid.
Perhaps this is on my mind because I’m writing this on Good Friday. Christianity’s view of suffering is complex. I took a graduate course in Buddhism years ago where I studied the cessation of suffering, one of the religion's Four Noble Truths is. And yet within my belief system, I believe that the Creator of the universe came to earth in human form to endure unspeakable horrors for the sake of humanity. Followers of Jesus aren’t called to pursue suffering, yet neither are we to expect that it will cease in this life. Ultimately, we’re called to understand that it comes to us all, even to the very Son of God.
On this day, I admit that my “light and momentary” troubles lead me to, “fix my eyes, not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.”
Why I Run