The Ultimate LA Tour: LA Marathon

I almost dropped out of the LA Marathon at the last minute this year (for the second time!) and I am so, so glad that I didn't, because it turned out to be my favourite marathon so far. 

It seemed like the natural choice, given that I live in LA, and also because I'd been registered to run it before. The last time, after I raised money to run for the charity team, I decided to match the donations and go run a marathon in Rome on the same day instead (how could you blame me). Rest assured, though, to everyone who supported the cause because I did run the 26.2 miles I pledged to run albeit a year later. 

I nearly didn't do it this year again though, for a myriad reasons which I'll rattle off; First, I only signed up  because I got an email that it was reaching sell out and I had FOMO, I had soreness in one of my glutes for a month that wouldn't go away, I was already planning on running a marathon in Toronto in May with my sisters, their first, and I didn't want to injure myself ahead of that.  

Not only did I not want to miss that, and this is going to sound dramatic, but running is such an enormous part of my daily life that if I were to get injured I would seriously not know what to do with myself. Also, I was missing my two big toenails from my last marathon! One of them was completely gone and had been for a while, I was less worried about that one, but the other was only attached on one side and it seemed like that might pose some issues.

With all of the reasons seemingly directing me not to do it, it was still a tough call to decide whether to give it up. I tried asking the question to God, and it felt like He was also telling me no. But was I sure that that was God? Or was it just my own fear? If it was God's voice trying to protect me from making a really stupid decision, why would I want to ignore his warning? 

On the day before the marathon, I came to the decision that I would not make a decision, yet. That I could continue to listen and gauge how it felt right up to the race. I went to the race expo, just in case, to pick up my bib (and get the marathon shirt!).

I made all last-ditch attempts to try to heal, including supplementing with curcumin (an anti-inflammatory), tiger balm, foam rolling, and soaking with epsom salts. At the expo I saw a booth for KT tape that piqued my interest, passed it over, and then walked all the way back around to the entrance after I'd left to check it out again. 

They had a diagram showing how it worked. It claimed that the adhesion pulled up on the skin and away from the muscle, allowing for increased blood flow and healing. Make what you want of that, but I was willing to give it a try. I got home and taped a big X on my sore butt.

I kept trying to listen to God's direction, and then I thought about something that David Ghiyam said in one of his recent podcast episodes. He was speaking about effective decision making and a way to help discern God's voice. 

He gave an analogy from his own life about having to choose between picking up a friend from LAX late one night after he'd gotten into bed, or saying no and choosing to rest before a seminar he was going to give the next day.

On the one hand he wanted to be a good friend to someone who really wanted to see him and needed his help. It would have been an exercise in living out the values he 'preached about' in his seminars.

On the other hand, not being rested could have left him under prepared, compromising the value that he would bring into all of those peoples lives the next day. 

What he prescribed before making a difficult decision like that, before even bringing the question to God, was to let yourself get excited about the idea before you automatically say no. So he did that, he got himself excited about getting out of bed and putting all of his clothes back on, about going out and doing a favour for a friend and catching up with them until 2 am. 

Then he brought the question to God. The answer would either be a no, an empowered no that wasn't out of resentment, or a yes, for a reason that would later be revealed to him. 

He compared it to the biblical story of Abraham, who waited for twenty-five years for God's promise to bear him a son that finally came true when he was 100 years old. After Isaac was born, as a final test of Abraham's faith, God asked him to sacrifice Isaac. Abraham agreed and took his son to the mountain, and bound him on the altar, but just before he killed his son an angel of the Lord appeared and stopped him. 

All God wants from us is our heart. It's an extreme example, but it gets the point across. Instead of trying to force my own desires and ignoring the consequences, I decided to consider the option of not running the marathon. And that definitely got me excited. 

How lovely that would have been, not to wake up at 2:45 to drive to the hectic parking situation among 25,000 runners. Not to have to then board a 30 minute bus ride to the start at 5am and wait in line in the cold for another couple of hours to use the portapotties. Not to have to run 42 kilometers (or 26.2 miles). The whole thing was seemed like an enormous hassle. 

What if instead I did my regular, peaceful morning run in the mountains? With no lines, no portapotties, no chaos, and capping it at a cool 10k. 

In the bible, God's voice is often referred to as the still, small voice. And it's said that it's easier to hear it when you're calm. It's hard to be calm when you're racking your brain worrying about making the right decision. 

When I considered the outcome of both scenarios, a peace did come over me. I smiled, because that is the presence of God, who tells us that we are always going to be okay. Even if the anxiety produced by making a hard decision makes us feel like we're somehow in danger.  

I went to sleep early that night in that comfort, knowing that I would continue to listen to Him and that nothing was more important. If in the morning I woke up in pain or got to the race and it wasn't right, I could stop at any time. I could even run the first half of the marathon or walk for a portion of it. 

When I woke up in the morning I woke up rested and pain-free. I drank lemon water and made celery juice (a caffeine-free way to boost my metabolism) and then made a bagel (my marathon-morning treat). I put my race shoes on and got out the door to drive to Century City. 

On the bus ride to the start I took a moment to do my daily bible refresh, and the scripture quoted that day was from Joshua 1:9. It said, "... Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest."

I had forgotten, which I sometimes do, that nothing is impossible for God. That He is the great healer and giver of strength, that He can move mountains. So I prayed in Jesus' name that He would keep me safe, and I arrived to the start at Dodger stadium with all of the thousands of runners. 

I met a couple of first time marathoners who commented on the energy when we arrived and how excited it was making them. It was really special, the beginning of something so long-awaited, the thing everyone had envisioned and trained for, the pinnacle. 

I didn't try to rush to make it into my corral because I wasn't eager to achieve a certain time, I wasn't even committed to finishing it. Normally I would put myself in with the 3:45 pacers, but on that morning I decided to take it easy and not look at my pace. 

So, I got into the long line to use the portapotties for a second time. I can say from experience that the magic number is to go twice. I've experienced so many problems from having to go to the bathroom on the course. 

Having stomach issues while running can be excruciating, like I experienced in Rome. If you do stop, you risk having to wait in line and you risk your muscles seizing up and shutting down, making it much harder to finish.

When I finally got into place I was starting with the 6:00 pacers, and the enormous crowd slowly funneled its way toward the start line. Then we crossed. 

That made me happy. I love running. And I love running on a cool, sunny LA morning. I love running long distances, especially on a guided course which requires no brain power or stopping for any traffic lights. I love running en masse, knowing that we're all experiencing it together. Knowing how long everyone trained, knowing the hard journey that we're each embarking on. 

Knowing that for some it was their third or fourth or fifth or twentieth or thirtieth or fourtieth. Some runners bibs were marked as legacy runners, signifying that they'd run every single LA Marathon since it's inception forty years ago. 

I wasn't feeling any pain, and what I noticed at the start line was that practically everyone had some kind of small injury or concern that they were dealing with. There was KT tape all over the place! It's never perfect. 

Not only that, but I noticed all of the differing body types. People who, if you were to look at them, wouldn't look like someone who could run a marathon at all. There were some people with crazy running forms, like knees that go super inward and even touch at every step. People running barefoot!

I never looked at my watch to check my pace or see how many miles I had left. When I got to the halfway point, I didn't speed up to get negative splits. I didn't even feel the need to race the last 5kms. My 5km record on Strava was during the last 5kms of a marathon, isn't that crazy? 

I put my earbuds in at one point but then took them out. It didn't feel right. I did not want to miss everything that was going on around me. The dragon dancers in Chinatown, the Koshin Taiko drummers as we passed the Disney Concert Hall, Sidle Drumline when we got to Silver Lake. All of that drumming really gave me an appreciation and understanding for why it's such a big part of college sports and even in the army.

When we ran past Silver Lake, I realized that it was actually the first time I had ever seen 'Silver Lake,' and it wasn't what I was expecting. I don't know what I imagined, a built up concrete reservoir I guess, but it looked like a little majestic oasis. It was really a sight to see. I thought about how beautiful LA was.

The next stop after the tour of Chinatown, Downtown, Silver Lake and Echopark was going to be Hollywood, and even though I knew that's where we were headed it was still surprising when we reached it, because it's a far trek from downtown. 

We passed a few of the Scientology buildings along the way, too, including their own production studio, which no tour of LA is complete without.

Hollywood Boulevard that time of morning was totally bare except for us runners, so there was a clear view of all of the stars on the walk of fame. We passed the Pantages theatre, the Chinese theatre, and the Dolby theatre and then ran along Sunset, right across the spot I used to run up to get to Runyon Canyon when I first moved there. 

We got to that cool spot in WeHo/Beverly Hills where the Oppenheim office is (apparently this is the Sunset Strip). LA was looking really attractive. The tall billboards, the Sunset Tower hotel and the streets that climbed up into the hills, views of the palm-lined streets below. 

I saw a woman walking who was still dressed up in her fancy outfit from the night before, face looking a little worse for wear. She did not seem delighted about seeing all of us. I was feeling nice though, and at that point I knew that I was going to do the whole thing. 

We seemed to effortlessly float down to Rodeo Drive, which was pristine. I mean really it was spotless. The Gucci, Balenciaga and Louis Vuitton storefronts, and that cute alleyway that randomly looks like it's in Europe. Notably there were no aid stations in that area, probably because they didn't want it to be seen with all of the paper cups on the ground. 

I knew how close we were then to Culver City, just around the corner, and I knew the marathon ended there. I was astonished because we were getting so close and it still felt like nothing! Sadly for me, we were nowhere near finishing, and maybe if I'd glanced at the course map I would have known that. We still had to run all the way down Santa Monica to Brentwood before coming back to the finish. 

It was like a sick joke reaching Century City and seeing the finish line and still having six miles left to go. We ran on the opposite side of the road from all the runners who were so close to the finish line. We ran next to them the entire rest of the way, following turns and eventually getting into Brentwood. 

That part of the race kind of sucked. We went down some random roads and through underpasses, and the sun was getting really hot. Still I've felt so much worse. I was fine, just ready to be done with it. Finally it did come time to turn around, and we reached mile 21, 22, 23.

Throughout the race there were pillars to show which mile you were on, and each of them had an inspirational quote like 'when you have no strength left in your legs, you run with your heart.' Every time I read one it nearly made me cry (I was also PMSing!).

Some of the signs the spectators made were entertaining too, like 'do it so he sees your story,' 'it's giving 'runner',' 'you also could have tried therapy,' and 'toenails are overrated.' 

In addition to the official marathon aid stations, there were tons of bystanders giving out water, food, candy, pretzels, even mini vaselines and cooling spray. There were also vendors giving away fully-loaded hotdogs, and ice cream cones from Salt and Straw, and one girl on instagram took a video of herself eating everything! Other people gave out cups of beer and other alcohol. Seeing that made me upset,  but I think that's my own problem. 

Mile 24 was pure joy. It started with a bagpiper playing the song, A Scottish Soldier, one that I knew from when I was a kid. I kept humming the words to myself as I ran past and kept going.

We made it to mile 25, and further along some very nice lady was doing us a service by declaring that we had only a third of a mile left, even though I kind of didn't believe her.

But eventually there it was. I could see the finish line, five hundred feet ahead. The crowds started closing in on us and screaming at us. When I passed the finish line, it still felt like I had energy left. I didn't feel like I was dying. 

Some of the hardest, most excruciating times in my life have been on the marathon course. And I'm happy I experienced those, but lately I was feeling like I should retire from them after marathon 10 because they've just been so hard on my body. 

I can remember when I adopted the mindset of viewing a marathon as a 'race.' It was before my very first marathon when, at the start line, I started hearing talk about qualifying for Boston. Since then, even though I've always loved running and found it enjoying, the marathon became something different, a time to suffer. 

This time was different, though. All I had was a beautiful, enjoyable tour of the city, which is what I was hoping for before I ever ran my first marathon.   

When the marathon was over I walked calmly through the finishers area to collect my medal and my bag. I went to Eataly and admired all of the pizza and panini, and ordered myself 'un ciccio', an Italian puffed pastry with a very generous dollop of whipped cream in the middle.  

When I made it home I went out for a walk around the neighborhood. The pain in my hip was gone.

I'm filled with gratitude. I love you God. 

 

By the way, thank-you for reading this. I learned recently that people are actually reading this. I looked at the analytics and saw that there were thousands of viewers every month from all over the world, when all the while I'd been treating it like an online diary.