My Name is Rindi: October 7, 2017

Four A.M.!! Two crazy sisters--ready to run a marathon!!

The most interesting thing happened to me and my body while running the marathon. My legs and knees reached a whole new level of pain. I’ve never felt anything like it. I told Stalee that it was nearly a level 10, but I was still reserving that for the woman in childbirth with a broken femur! So I guess I was at a level 9. :) Every time we slowed or stopped at an aid station to grab a drink or an orange, or for someone to make a quick bathroom stop, my legs would start to seize up. It was a gripping, excruciation pain. I could not even walk. To get started again, I had to awkwardly limp, then hobble, and then sort of run. It sent my pain level off the charts. The last few times I stopped and then got started again, I actually started to cry.

A really good strategy for marathon runners, especially first-timers, is to walk through the aid stations. It’s a good chance to catch your breath, get a small break, refuel, and then continue on. I’ve heard this advice countless times. I’ve only run one marathon and it was four years ago, so I’m pretty much a first-timer. But as we tried to follow this strategy, it soon become extremely apparent to me that this was causing me severe problems.

For a couple of stations we decided I would just keep running, while Stalee and Kari stopped and then tried to catch up to me. That didn’t work very well because they had to run faster than they wanted to in order to catch me and I just ended up running alone a short distance in front of them. So I would finally stop and let them catch me. But that just hurt way too much.

I was really anxious. I now had serious doubts about me finishing the race. I also was so panicked that I would ruin Stalee’s race. Somehow I discovered that my pain lessened the faster I ran. On one really steep downhill, I just let loose and ran really fast. My pain became somewhat tolerable. Stalee felt like that was too out of control for her. We were having a huge dilemma. It seemed like one of of us would risk our whole race if we ran the way the other one needed to run. But we had promised each other that no matter what we would stay together. No matter what.

We stopped. I tried to stretch. I tried Icy-Hot. Stalee helped my shaking hands put anti-cramping pills under my tongue (which probably saved me). I hung onto her a little, and then tried to start running. It was so awkward and painful. I started to cry a little. Stalee said to me, “Just go.” So I did.

I ran hard and cranked up my speed the best I could. I think we were at Mile 16 or 17. I had a long way to go, but I had one mission in mind: I could NOT stop until I crossed that finish line.

I began an entirely new battle. It was between me and my mind. As long as I ran, and ran a little faster than I thought I could, my legs just kept on pumping. But if I even thought of slowing or stopping, my legs started to give out on me. I had many miles to go. And a few more hours to run. But no matter how tired I got, I told myself, I could not stop.

I have never had to dig that deep for that long to accomplish something so physical. There were so many times that my mind was just exploding with the pain from my legs, and I was wishing I could stop and rest. But I knew that the relief would be fleeting, and the pain of stopping would be worse than the pain of running.

Stalee told me later that as I charged away from them—a woman on a mission—Kari asked her if she thought I would quit. I was so thankful that Stalee gave her a resounding, No! She believed in me. And somehow, I believed in myself.

I wasn’t really running that fast at all. But it was faster than I felt I could run. And I passed SO many people. It felt like all I did was pass people for miles and miles. When there was a hill, and people stopped to walk, I charged right past them. It just felt better the faster I pushed.

By the time I came to the last few miles, I could hardly feel my legs. Oh, I could feel the pain, but I couldn’t really feel them working beneath me. My hands were tingling and numb as well. I started to feel like I couldn’t keep running. I got really choked up, but that made it hard to breathe. I just wanted to finish. Maybe that sounds crazy to everyone else. But I have given so many hours, so much sweat, so many tears to this goal. It mattered so much to me that I accomplished what I set out to do. If I could have walked or limped my way across the finish line, I would have. But I just couldn’t even walk or limp. I finally stopped under the shade of a tree by the city buildings. It was so tempting to stop! Immediately everything started cramping up on me. It felt like I might go down to the ground. Terrified, I started to run. It involved shrieking out in pain and looking like a crazy lady for quite a few steps, but eventually I found a rhythm that would take me home. It hurt. Every step hurt. And I just prayed and prayed and prayed that I would make it. Tears were in my eyes. All of a sudden I felt this warmth go from my head to my toes. Somehow I came around the last corner. Somehow I was getting closer to those balloons. I was scanning every person in the crowd. Where could my family be?

And then I saw them. I saw those waving arms and heard their cheers. I saw someone holding up Lance so he could see me. I saw all my kids cheering for me. I saw my Mom. My beautiful Mom. I saw Greg holding up the camera. I saw Sunee and Clint and all their kids. I got really choked up. I raised up my arms in triumph. For a few minutes, I really couldn’t feel my legs. But bless those wonderful legs—they just kept carrying me.

And then I was done.

I was alone, and I was crying. I think I was in shock. All the workers kept asking me if I was okay. I kept telling them that, yes, I was okay. Just that it had been hard.

I ran for five hours. That is a very long time to run. But I will cherish my medal for ever. I did it.

My next thought was for Stalee. I was so concerned that I wasn’t there to help her, especially if she was struggling like I had. It was with complete relief that I saw her coming down the homestretch. She was strong and feeling great. She had run her race. And she did an awesome job. We rushed into each others’ arms. We hugged and cried and got our pictures taken. She had been so worried about me, looking at every ambulance she passed and hoping I wasn’t in it!! I’m so thankful she felt great. I never would have forgiven myself for leaving her if she had struggled.

I will cherish this memory even though it was so hard. I cherish that part, too. It was an incredible boost to my spirit to be able to conquer an extremely difficult challenge. It gives me momentum.

I’ve marveled at the fact that I just couldn’t slow down or walk for relief. It was so counterintuitive. How could running faster and pushing harder have been the very thing that eased my pain? As I was talking it over with Greg, he told me, “Motion is lotion.” I guess sometimes moving can ease the pain.

I’ve thought so much about that. Motion is lotion! I think sometimes in life the temptation to sit down and quit can be so strong. It sounds so much easier. But it is a false and alluring thought. We will only get stuck in our place, unable to get moving again, unable to handle the trials washing over us.

We have to keep going. We have to keep trying! We have to give just a little bit more than we think we can give. We have to crank up our cheerful music, put on our best smile, thank every single person who hands you an ice cold water bottle when you need it most, and just keep pumping those legs.

But we also need to pray. Divine help will come. I don’t know how or when, but it will come.

I was so touched in General Conference when I heard the words, “Hard is good.” Yes, life can be really hard, but hard is good! We came here to be tested. Do we really believe that to be true?

I have such a strong testimony that God will make so much more of us than we ever could if we will just let Him lead the way. He knows us. He loves us. He will always be there to help us. But He also knows that hard is good. It shapes us into the person only He knows we are meant to be.

Our job is to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Our job is to keep moving. Our job is to keep believing—in ourself, in God, in His Plan. It might hurt. It might hurt more than we ever dreamed. But He will get us there. And He will even carry us there if needs be.

I am lacing up my shoes. I can’t wait to see what I can become.