As of today, it has been three weeks since the Olympic Marathon Trials.  Sara and I finally returned home yesterday after a long three weeks of traveling.  A couple days after the trials we headed to Israel for what would be our first real vacation since our honeymoon two years ago.  It was amazing to see the places were Jesus lived, to meet the people of Jesus decent, to be baptized in the water He was baptized in, and to take a boat ride on the water that He walked on.  It was both a time of celebration and relaxation, as we floated effortlessly in the Dead Sea, and a time of spiritual enrichment, as we came to understand more about the context in which Jesus lived.  As great as it was to travel and go to the Big Apple I can honestly say that I am excited to be home.
 
This morning I did my first run faster than a jog as I jumped in part of a “progression” run with Deena.  Let me explain that a “progression” run with Deena is no jog in the park, rather it plays out more like a tempo run (Mike you know what I am talking about).  But it is always good to run with Deena, as I always take something away from the experience.  As we were running I was telling her what a humbling experience it can be to run a marathon regardless of the outcome.

Doing well makes me realize that God has given me a gift and even though I put in a lot work to develop the gift, it is still a gift, and not something that I have earned.  I am also humbled by the fact that so many people have invested so much in me to help me do what I do.  If it weren’t for my wife coming home early from Europe to be with me during my preparations for the trials I think things would have turned out a lot differently or if Sara and I would not have stumbled into this perfect training group, place to train, and coach, we certainly would never have developed to this level.  It is humbling to know that my success has always been a result of both God-given, undeserved talent and the investments made by the people that surround me.
 
I could write a book about my experiences leading up to, during, and after the trials.  It was the most emotional weekend of my life.  Going from the wonderful high of accomplishing a life long goal to the shocking news of losing a former teammate and friend.  I am deeply grieved at the loss of Ryan.  I hope to do something special in his memory at the Olympics.  He was one of the hardest workers I have ever met.  I hope that I can take this characteristic that he embodied and make it apart of me.  It still shocks me to think that the day before the race we were doing our last easy run before the race together as if we were going to live forever.
 
There was so much hype leading up to the trials that I was glad to have the day finally arrive.  I was pretty nervous, actually really nervous.  I wasn’t nervous that my training hadn’t gone well, or about any nagging injury, I was mostly nervous that I would do something stupid out there, like make too hard of a move too early, and screw up my chances of making my first Olympic team.  My wife and coach did a good job of keeping my head on straight as sometimes, in my opinion, the most challenging days (mentally) are the last couple days before the race.  The night before the race Sara made me some pasta we brought from home as I watched The Passion of the Christ on my laptop in our hotel room.  Despite my nervousness I knew that I was well prepared for whatever the next day would bring.

The race went out slow, as we had expected, but I was surprised when a group of five of us broke away from the field at a very early stage in the race without running particularly hard.  I was glad to be in a more manageable group.  I remember looking at our group of five and wondering who would be the first to drop off  and who would make the first move.  I really wanted to be patient and wasn’t planning on being the first to strike.  With two laps to go it felt like we didn’t have that much time left to run, while in actuality we still had a good 50 minutes remaining.  I looked up at the jumbo-tron and was surprised to see Kalid catching our group.  I had no idea he was within striking distance and when I learned of his pursuit I decided that we should do our best to pick up the pace and not let such a great runner into striking distance.  I was surprised when the others started to hesitate to follow my move and made the decision at this point that I could maintain my effort all the way to the finish.  I was also surprised to see some of my splits, being much faster than I anticipated.  I knew that this was my chance at not only making the team but also winning the trials.  This was the opportunity I had been dreaming about for so long and now was the time to take my swing.  Upon increasing the tempo I actually felt much more fluid and relaxed.  All the hill work and marathon simulations at 8,000ft were making the hills of central park seem flat.

I had time to do a lot of thinking out there over the last 9 miles.  I thought about all the long runs I had done in Mammoth, I pictured myself on green church road, in my minds-eye I saw Sara biking next to me yelling out encouragement, I thought about my favorite bible verse, I thought about the rock that Deena gave me the night before with the word “believe” etched in it, but most of time I just praised God without really thinking much about anything.  I just did what God created me to do for Him.

Now, when I watch the final mile of the race part of me gets embarrassed at my enthusiasm as it is very uncharacteristic of my nature, but part of me remembers what I was feeling when I was out there.  After years of struggle I was realizing my dream.  It was overcoming all the hard times that made that moment so sweet and sharing it with my friends, family and teammates made it even sweeter.  I will never forget running through central park that fall morning, running through my sanctuary.