There is a fair amount of fear and trepidation leading up to running a marathon. Almost every Saturday for the past five months I would find myself at the outset of a "long run," nervous and uneasy as I took the first steps towards completing a distance further than I had ever run before. Towards the end of training, when long runs would be upwards of 18 miles the anxious feeling would begin in the middle of the week. Doubts and fears and dread would start to creep into my mind -- "can I really run that far?" or "what if I can't run 18 miles? i signed up for a race where I'll have to run for more than hour after I complete 18 miles..." and yet, each week in the midst of the uneasiness I would run (and walk) and cover the necessary distance. I really loved the process.
I attended a dinner the night before the marathon where John Bingham, a well known 'back of the pack' runner and columnist for Runner's World magazine, spoke. He warned that the 2 questions that marathoners would be asked after the race would be 1. did you win? and 2. how fast did you run? This invoked a bit more anxiety as I knew my time would not be anything particularly stellar. Interestingly enough I haven't been asked either of those questions. Instead, the most common inquiry has been: What do you think about when you are running for that long? Perhaps my friends and family know me well enough to skip the first two questions.
I'm not sure that I've really adequately answered that question. I think I've said "Oh, I think about this and that" and then explained that you get to a point where all you can think about is putting one foot in front of the other and finishing. This past week I've been really processing the marathon -- there is so much to think about, certainly one of the life experiences that I will not soon forget or fully appreciate. I read a blog post on Runner's World today that I think puts some words and thoughts to the answer I've been trying to come up with. What do I think about when I run? Well, sometimes I think about how much I love the place where I live and the sights and sounds and smells that surround me, about how much I enjoy being outside, about how much I love stomping through mud puddles on a trail run after it has rained and about how grateful I am to have a day where I can be outdoors. Sometimes when long runs seems particularly difficult and painful, I'm reminded of others who are going through tough times, I think about those facing sickness or those who have been hit hard by the economic downturn, about faces I've seen in other countries who represent hunger and being voiceless and being marginalized. I pray for strength to keep going. Every once in a while though, late into a run the pain will dissolve and I feel strong and able to finish. During those moments I think of hope and strength and how beautiful both of those things are. I think of the people I love and how grateful I am that they are cheering me on as I run and in life. I cherish those moments and try to dwell in them. 
This may sound outrageously cheesy to the non-runner (6 months ago i would have scoffed at this), but a group of women running the marathon had on shirts that said "The woman who begins the race is not the same woman that finishes the race." There is strength and courage to be discovered, there is ground to cover and others to cheer on. As Joanie Benoit Samuelson, the first olympic gold medalist in the women's marathon, said at the dinner the night before the race -- "God bless you and long may you run."
