Run Your Own Race

I’ve been mulling over this season of dreams and going back to the desires that captured my heart from the moment I gave it away to Christ. I’m not talking about ambitions, but dreams that came back to life. I put nearly all of them away when I joined the Coast Guard, and now that I am in the home stretch of my military career, God has revealed much about who I am and what I can expect from Him.

I’ve had a childhood dream linger in my thoughts for years, and this past Sunday, I made it come true. Growing up in Hawaii, I always wanted to run the Honolulu Marathon. I remember sitting in front of the TV when it came on the news and thinking how much fun it would be. I would tell my friends about it, and they were completely uninterested in it, and would rather talk about pogs or recess. I didn’t really vocalize it too much, though. I guess it was the notion that if I said it out loud, it wouldn’t come true. I thought, though, I would never be able to do it after the accident. When I was 8 years old, I was accidentally run over by a van. The rear left tire went over my waist, and I distinctly remember this vivid image of a blue van going over my body. I pass that very site from time to time, and it still gives me goosebumps every time I go by. I remember my mom being frantic and crying over my bloodied feet and limp waistline while we were on the way to the hospital. I remember looking at her the whole time but I don’t remember crying at all. I guess it was the self-assurance that I was taken care of was enough to numb the pain. to make a long story short, I ended up getting a hairline fracture in my pelvic bone, a small crack on my femur, and a pulled ligament. My youth played an advantage for me as my bones were ‘young’ enough that they could heal to full recovery – of course, after 6-8 weeks in a body cast. I remember afterwards being the subject of many sermons by my dad and other pastors, citing the healing from God. I believe God healed me tremendously that day, as the fracture was only 3 centimeters from a vital part in my spine that would have prevented me from walking again, and that the crack in my femur was just north of an area that would have caused permanent damage to my right leg.

My mom still goes silent sometimes when we talk about it. I know it hits a mom-chord with her that she doesn’t want to relive again. Since then, I’ve taken up sports and activities that were fun, but really, allowed me to use my legs. I had a second chance with them and I didn’t want to miss one second. I had another scare with a volleyball injury to the knee, but it came around as well.  I gave up running and resorted to swimming in high school since it gave me some pressure off my knee and legs. It was fun, but I knew I wanted to do more.

Joining the military, certain parts proved challenging. I knew I wouldn’t be able to run as fast as others, as my ligament wouldn’t be as pliable as it could have been and the pressure of anything on my knee was grueling. Years passed, and swimming wasn’t doing much for my knee and legs in terms of conditioning, so I hit the road again, and after years of not putting on running shoes, I hit the trail once more. I remember my first PT Test run. It was pathetic. I could BARELY make the Coast Guard standard, and was huffing and puffing at the end. It was only a mile and a half. Still, I wanted to set out and get back into shape. I remember during a drive home back in 2004 from work, it felt like God was piercing my heart to ‘go back’ in my mind. Memories flooded my mind, and I felt like I was in some sci-fi thriller where random images pop up out of nowhere. After praying on it, I felt like this memory of the Marathon kept lingering in my mind, even on to the next morning. It wasn’t anything significant, but a vivid memory of me sitting in front of a TV wanting to do the Marathon. I knew then on that I needed to fulfill this ‘promise’ I made to myself over a decade ago. While I was in Hawai’i, I volunteered at the Honolulu Marathon for years, helping pass out water and hold the dividing line. For whatever reasons during those years, I never mustered up enough self-discipline to do it. After beating myself up over it, in 2008, I told myself I would do it in 2011 and my goal would be to not stop at all. 2011 would be my last year in the military, and although at the time I was debating on reenlisting, I wanted to secure my goal.

I moved to Virginia in 2010, and the travelling abroad started up. I made the decision to get out of the military, and I knew I had this last chance to do it while I was in uniform. So I started running. I ran all over Newport News Park, and York County. I ran all over Brasilia, Malaysia, Trinidad, Bahamas, and Vietnam. I ran until it hurt, and kept going. I told myself to move forward and push beyond anything I’ve experienced before. This was new territory for me.

This past Sunday, at 4:50 am, I said a prayer of thanksgiving. I was thankful that after all these years, I was finally at the starting line of a race that I believed for years would be a sight I would never see. I was thankful that I was healed. I was thankful that I was alive. I drank my last sip of water, and as the fireworks went up to signal the start of the race, it was a bit emotional for me. I didn’t know it would be so moving to start. 

I’ve never gone past 15 miles straight nonstop before, and I normally start to struggle at about 9 miles. Maybe it was the adrenaline of being in the race, the overwhelming aloha and support of the onlookers and cheer sections, God, or a combo of the three, but 9 miles came and went, and I was feeling more than fine. I said hi to friends as I passed them and kept my head in the game as best I could. My knee started to give way about 15 miles into it, and I was in pain, but I pushed through. I could see many start to pass me as I brought my pace down to a SLOW jog, but I kept telling myself. “RUN YOUR OWN RACE!”

I came down the corner of Kapiolani Park, and the Finish Line was ahead of me. As I approached the Finish Line, I felt as if the weight of the world lifted off my shoulder for a moment. I had a sudden burst of energy and bolted to the line, all smiles, dripping wet. 5 hours, 23 minutes, and 43 seconds of straight running. Never stopped. Never gave in.

I limped to the park afterwards, and had a brief moment with God. He carried me the entire race, and my strength came from him. It was by far the proudest moment of my life and something I will never forget. It was a bit bittersweet as I only wish I had friends or family there to celebrate it with me, but I know they were in church at the moment. I guess being alone was a good thing. That’s how I’ll look at it.

Never give up on your dreams. That is really it. Nothing more, nothing less. Never give up. God may provide them, BUT YOU HAVE TO MAKE IT HAPPEN!

Hope to see you next year at the starting line

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