Whatever It Takes

​4 years ago today, I ran my last marathon. The memory of the pain I was experiencing in that finish line moment has long subsided, but the lesson - the much needed lesson - has carried on.

I ran the marathon with my friend Tiffany. It was her first marathon. She'd committed to running marathons before this one in 2021, but it just never happened. This one, though - she was determined to let nothing stand in her way of becoming forever a marathoner.

Throughout the training leading up to this, she would frequently say, "Whatever it takes."

And I dare say, that day, we did whatever it took.

For many reasons, most meaningful metaphor for life has become the marathon.

Maybe that’s because the marathon mirrors the way life exposes us.
It reveals every weakness, every fear, every corner of ourselves we’d rather not confront. There’s nowhere to hide at mile 22. Whatever is in you - good or bad - comes out. Trust me!

In many ways, life is the same. We don’t get to skip the hard miles; we just learn to show up for ourselves there.

Maybe it’s because the marathon forces honesty. There’s no pretending your way to 26.2 miles. No shortcut. No façade. Life, especially these last several years, has demanded that same honesty from me - to face my truth instead of pretending I'm strong.

The marathon helped teach me that pretending doesn’t get you to the finish line; truth does.

Maybe it’s because the marathon is a slow becoming, not a single moment. No one accidentally runs a marathon. You become a marathoner long before race day. You become one in the lonely early-morning miles, in the discipline of lacing up when no one is watching, in the quiet promises you keep to yourself.

For me, healing has been that same slow becoming - a thousand small, unseen steps that eventually add up to something that looks like progress.

Maybe it’s because the marathon is where I learned what “capacity” really means. Not capacity as in talent or physical ability, but capacity as in what we can endure, adapt to, and rise from. My first marathon and each after showed me I had more in me than I believed.

Life has shown me the opposite too - that sometimes we have far less than we pretend.

Both truths matter.

Both shape us.

Maybe it’s because the marathon is impossible to run alone.
Even if your feet are the only ones hitting the pavement, you’re carried by the people who trained with you, believed in you, prayed for you, and waited for you. Tiffany’s “whatever it takes” didn’t just get her across the finish line, it got me across too.

I’ve come to realize that's true for most of us - most of our finish lines come the same way: on the strength of the people who stay close when the miles get dark.

Whatever it takes.

Or you know, maybe it’s simply this:

In the marathon, as in life, the goal isn’t to feel good - it’s to keep going. And sometimes “whatever it takes” isn’t about finishing strong. It’s just about not quitting.

I am proud of this 4 year-old memory popping up this morning. Proud of Tiffany and proud of me.

But more than that, I am reminded:

Whatever it takes.....