The Tangled Mess of Joy and Pain

I trained for months for a 1/2 marathon on April, 30. I have illibital band syndrome and three weeks out from the race, I was told to stop training. Race day rolls around two days after I lost my grandpa, so I wasn't about to give up. So I got up at 4 AM, ate my mini Clif bar, put on two braces and acted like I hadn't missed a day of training. Race begins.
I ran on pure emotion for the first 9 miles. The sweet old lady playing the fiddle at Mile 3. The homespun band and their rendition of Sweet Home Alabama at Mile 5. The family blaring Lincoln Brewster. The two happy. slightly crazy volunteers holding a sign that said "Run like you stole something".

My time was great. Then at mile 9.5, the pain kicks in. Each time either foot would hit the ground, sharp pains shot down my shins. I endured it as long as I could, then the tears came. ;) YES. Tears. I'm a crier. But not a pain-inflicted crier. More like a sad movie or serious-talk-with-my-dad type of crier. But the pain was so excruciating that I had tears. At a race of that magnitude, there are EMT's riding bicycles swarming the runners.
So, when Mr. EMT saw me crying, of course he asked if I was ok.
I gave him a semi-mean look and said, "Fine". I think he was amused by the fact that I was slightly annoyed with his question. Ten minutes later he was back with a smile. He said, "Um, maybe walk or stretch?" Oops. I think I may have rolled my eyes at him?? ;) That part is a little vague.

At that point, I could barely walk and my great time was out the door.
So, my mission changed from running a Half and getting a great time to finishing the race. Thankfully, at Mile 11 they were handing out GU (Which I love!) and my pain let up a little bit. I finished with a strong run. While it definitely didn't go like I thought it should, I did get to run to the 50 yard line of Memorial Stadium while people cheered. It was lovely.
Finish lines have a way of erasing the memory of pain and inspiring pure joy;)

yes.
I'm beginning to understand that joy and suffering are all tangled up together. To avoid one is to miss out on the other. So, to grab hold of joy where ever it is found is to embrace suffering. Better yet, to learn from pain and allow it to finish it's perfect work is to know real joy.


"Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness." -Psalm 30:11