I am running a marathon. I am old as the hills. I have grandchildren! Paramedics carried me out of my house near death just a few years ago. With all this and more, I am running 26.2 miles in September. I said this to myself for the first time in March while standing on a chilly L platform. I was on my way home from an AIDS Foundation of Chicago ( AFC ) marathon information meeting. Every year, AFC invites people to run and raise money for their HIV/AIDS programs. Marathons have always intrigued me. So I decided to go to one of their meetings and get the scoop. When the meeting was over, I had signed up to run the 26.2 miles and pledged to raise $3,500 in donations.
Attending the meeting meant that I had to overcome my resistance to the idea that I could run. I imagined that I would be the oldest, fattest, most out of shape person there surrounded by svelte people who would be younger than my daughters. I expected everyone to laugh aloud when I walked through the doors of AFC. Despite my negative reactions, I stifled my imagination, put my expectations aside, and told myself to just show up. Don't expect anything. Keep a low profile, and just listen to what they have to say. Little did I know that showing up would show me the possibility of accomplishing something that I never before thought possible.
Seeing new possibilities meant that I had to decide what to do about them. I made that decision the night of the meeting, as I signed up to train for the Maui Marathon, and to raise $3,500 for AFC's programs. I know"scary, isn't it? A few days later, I made a couple of promises to myself. I promised that I would follow the training program to the best of my ability. I promised to attend every training run. I promised that I would not stop; that I would follow this to the end, whatever that may be. So far, I have kept my promises.
Telling people whom I knew about my decision was a logical follow through. Telling made my decision and promises concrete. It is one thing to make a private decision and a promise to yourself. Quite another to let everyone know. The first person that I told I planned to run was my partner. When she did not roll on the floor with laughter, I told my daughters. Now I am telling you. I am also inviting you to run alongside me in spirit, to give money to help stop the spread of HIV, and to learn along with me as I discover what it means to run.
In school, I was a hotshot basketball player. I played with the guys. I also love weightlifting and bikes. Plan to have my own Harley soon. I was always interested in people who ran marathons, and wondered about what kept them motivated. Run twenty-six miles! The most I have done is jog 2 miles. I believed that running was beyond my reach, especially after suffering major health problems. I have been a hair's breath away from death twice; once in New York when I had a deep vein thrombosis ( DVT ) in my upper thigh, and once in Chicago when I was overmedicated by my, now, ex-doctor for high blood pressure. I know firsthand what it feels like to believe that the breath you just took was your last. I have lived with the physical weakness that comes with recovery. Because of this, I believed that my body was too weak and too damaged to run. These were the fears that plagued me as I prepared for the first day of training, April 25. During most of March and part of April, I did what I call train for the training. I walked three days a week as quickly as I could for about 1 mile. I also started a light weight lifting routine at the local gym. Through this all, I still was not sure what to expect on the first day.
When I heard the coach say, "this is your first day of training" early that Saturday morning in April I was excited and terrified. Training started at 7 a.m. I had gotten up at 4:30"I didn't want to be late. It was cold. I heard coach continue, "Today, you are all athletes." I could not believe that I was waiting to run three miles. As I looked around at my fellow athletes, I could not tell if I shivered from cold or anticipation. After a few more minutes of introductions, we started to run in groups. Mine was the slowest.
Halfway through my three miles, I realized that this was one of the few times when success or failure was completely under my control. This time I did not have to placate a committee, conform to the expectations of a board, or compete with someone else to succeed. Success was mine to claim and define. I could either step out in faith and trust, or trip over fear and self-doubt. I could either define what success means to me, or feel defined by the success of others. Then I remembered that as a minister, I encourage people to have faith when they do not know what will happen next. I urge people to trust those who love them and believe that God is with us no matter what. I help people overcome their resistance to change so that they can see new possibilities. This means that training for and running a marathon is me putting action where my mouth has been. Every Saturday I step out in faith and trust that God is with me every step of the way, even when the way is rough.
Consequently, on April 25 at 31st and Lake Shore, I ran three miles the first time in my life. When I started running that day, I had no idea how or if I would finish. I did not know what would happen to me from one minute to the next. The next Saturday, I showed up and ran four miles. Then five. To date, I have completed eight miles! Already there have been Saturdays when I did not know if I would be able to take the next step, run the next mile. There were Saturdays when I was not sure why I was running. There were Saturdays when I came home so weak that all I could do was crawl into bed and go back to sleep. There were Saturdays when I thought I would die from running. Even though, there has yet to be a Saturday when I was sorry that I ran. There has yet to be a Saturday when I did not feel deep in my gut that I am running to my life.
Follow my progress online through Windy City Times. This is the first in a series of online bi-monthly articles about my experiences while training for and running a marathon. Help me raise $3,500.00 to stop HIV. To make online tax-deductible donations to AFC in my name, visit www.deborahelake.com .
