Today, an “Achilles’ heel” is a phrase we use to describe a fatal flaw; a point of weakness in someone who otherwise seems strong. After running my first marathon, I’ve been reflecting on what I learned from the experience – of facing challenges and my own Achilles’ heel.

If you know me, you know I love running. For me, running is both exhilarating and relaxing at the same time. Running can fatigue, but it can also energize. Running well requires commitment and discipline; but when it is done well, you get to experience the joy and freedom of movement.

I love to run, and I also love to make plans and set goals. I’ve done multiple half marathons, so this year I decided to level up and train for a full marathon. Spring came and I started running more, but something in my body felt off. After pushing my pace and increasing mileage too quickly, I felt tightness and fatigue in the bottom of my left leg. Dark bruising confirmed my diagnosis – Achilles tendonitis, which I got for the first time 10 years ago, had come back again to haunt me.

Resting wasn’t improving anything, so I started going to physical therapy. They had me go all the way back down to my base, starting with slow, short runs, and building back up from there. I was worried about not getting enough mileage in time for the race. I had to make a decision: I could go my own way and continue in pain or embrace the treatments and trust the process.

Over the summer, the physical therapy and training regimen worked wonders. The pain disappeared, my strength returned, and my mile times were spot on. I started running with a partner, who is an experienced runner himself. I’ve always run alone, so initially running with someone else felt foreign. It was difficult to match our paces and I struggled to keep up. By running with a partner, I learned the important lesson of controlling the run and going at my pace. To prevent further injury, I had to be careful not to go beyond my limits.

As the summer went on, my Achilles healed up. Then, there was smoke in the air from the fires, so I had to adjust my training plan. Just two weeks before the race, my Achilles flared up again and I was worried. I was faced with another choice – I could let this physical weakness take me down, or I could take steps to heal and try to do the race. I went back to PT and worked on taping and regaining strength over the last few weeks of training.

The morning of the race, I woke up at 5:00 am to prep for the 7:30 am start. We drove out along the coast of Bellingham Bay, into the chilly fall morning through trees shrouded in dense fog. I shivered in my running shorts but knew once I got going that I would be warm.

In a blink, I was at the starting line and headed off down the course. By the time the race began, the fog lifted and golden sunlight took its place. My eyes took in scenes of tranquility throughout the race, like the smooth, motionless bay that looked like a sheet of glass, with cranes posing on rocks, silhouetted by the rising run. There were farmlands and fields, complete with a large herd of curious cows. The final section wove us through small, quaint neighborhoods in Bellingham and past another waterfront before ending in a town square.

Running my first marathon was an amazing experience for which I am incredibly grateful. The race itself was filled with answered prayers – first, the Lord cleared the air of wildfire smoke so it was easy to breathe and my lungs were not damaged. My injured Achilles tendon kept going and my athletic tape stayed on for the whole race. I prayed often that it wouldn’t rain on race day – I was blessed with beautiful, warm fall weather. The race went as perfectly as it possibly could have, which was amazing. The beauty of the natural world around me, the gift of physical health, and the ability to run in joy and freedom all led me to humbly express gratitude to God.

I learned so many important lessons about life (and about running) through this training period and the race. There were many times I was tempted to compare myself to others – to believe the lie I was too slow, not good enough, or not a “real” runner. I used to get down on myself for not being able to keep the same pace as other people. I eventually realized that these lies and thoughts were not serving me, only holding me back. I had to let those go, be content with running at MY pace, and not worry about anyone else. Running is just as mental as it is physical; you have to train both mentally and physically to succeed.

Another thing I learned was how to humble myself and ask for help. Making the decision to go to physical therapy was significant for me, but I am so glad I did it. Their training and techniques helped me succeed at my goal in ways I couldn’t on my own. I also learned to take advice from more experienced runners, some of it being counterintuitive, like how getting more sleep and taking rest days actually helps you perform better on your runs. I had to accept that I don’t know everything yet, and there is still so much out there for me to learn.

I’ve heard it said that “Life is a marathon, not a sprint.” Running is the perfect analogy for life because you have to play the long game. You have to start slow and trust the process. You experience levels of fatigue you’ve never experienced before. You feel like you can’t move your legs one more step, but you do, which causes you to dig deep and find your “why”. You will discover your “Achilles’ heel” – a weakness that you can embrace and work through or let it bring you down.

As a runner, I have experienced weakness, both mentally and physically, in deeper ways than ever before. While I have some measure of strength on my own, I didn’t have what it takes within me to achieve this goal. In my moments of greatest weakness, I have learned to boast in the Lord’s strength.

When I feel weak and like I want to quit, I can call on Him and ask to be filled with His strength. When I want to give up, I can remember what Christ gave up when He died for me. I run because my body can do amazing things, but it was designed by Him. I run because I get to experience nature – feel the sun, breathe the air, see the animals – and remember it was created by Him. When I run, I experience great joy, which returns me to my true source of joy in God. I am grateful for physical health, for the breath in my lungs, and above all, grateful for every mile.

“Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” 2 Cor 12:7-10