Left to my own thinking, my inner dialog while running easily defaults into: You’re struggling and you’re only two miles into a four mile practice run?  You’ll never be able to finish a marathon!  You’re not a runner.  There’s a voice in my head that reminds me that I’m not athletic and I’m crazy to think I can do this.  It’s true that I was always picked last for team games as a child—understandably because I couldn’t throw or catch, and freaked out whenever a ball was thrown at me.  (I have since overcome the latter after raising two boys, but you still wouldn’t want me to throw something to you.)  I tried out for gymnastics in high school, but the coach couldn’t use someone without the ability to do basic moves like a backward roll or cartwheel.  And despite hours of swimming practice one summer, I didn’t pass the lifesaving course because I couldn’t master the dive.  So what are you doing out here today, Lilly?

Obviously, that kind of negative thinking is not going to help get me to the finish line on October 31!  I’m realizing that getting ready for a marathon involves as much mental preparation as physical.  It’s an inside job! Here’s what’s going on in my head while I run—my mental training regimen, so to speak.

Enjoy the experience.  Ultimately what matters is not when I cross the finish line, but how I get there and what it means to me when I do.  So my primary goal each time I run is to enjoy myself.  If I don’t enjoy running, I won’t run.  (And if I don’t run, I will not reap any benefits from it or develop the endurance needed to complete 26.2 miles).  I don’t call my morning runs “training.”  Training implies work, duty, obligation, grit, determination—definite enjoyment killers.  Rather, I choose to associate running with pleasure—the stillness of the early morning, the feeling of strength and energy as my body moves, the time for reflective thinking.  What a gift life is!

Open myself to the world around me.  I don’t want to be so intent on the practice of running that I forget to notice where I am.  So I lift my eyes and take in the shades of pink that the sky gets when the sun is close to the horizon, the little blue flower growing in the crack between the sidewalk and the asphalt, the old woman tending her garden.  There’s a symphony playing, but unless I listen I don’t hear a note of it.  No, it’s not my iPod.  Rather, it is the music of the outdoors and this morning it sounds joyful—as if praising the Creator.  I hear the wind rustling softly through the trees, the birds calling to each other, a dog barking an alarm that I’m passing his territory, the sound of my own breathing.  

Engage my mind.  It’s amazing how much distance I can effortlessly cover when my mind is busy with something other than how many more miles I’m running and whether I think I can make it!  I’ve found that the rhythm of running creates a wonderful backdrop for:  1) solving a problem; 2) contemplating and memorizing passages of scripture—ask me to repeat Jeremiah 6:16, Isaiah 42:16 or Deuteronomy 32:4 if you see me; 3) imagining Jesus running beside me as I talk to Him about difficult situations or people in need; 4) considering how my immediate discomfort is nothing compared with the brave fight many have had with cancer, and that my running is contributing to a bigger cause than merely finishing a marathon; 5) and talking with a teammate when running long runs on the weekends.

Chest / to the / finish. / Keep it / easy. / Keep it / light.  This has become my theme song when approaching a hill or pushing that extra distance.  Repeated in time with the cadence of my steps, it serves to remind me to straighten my posture for easier breathing and more efficient running so that I’m not working so hard.  The phrase also prompts me to visualize myself at the finish of today’s run—and tomorrow’s run,  and every day until finally I’m rounding the last turn, entering the chute, crossing the finish line, and hearing the cheers of my family, team, and spectators at the Marine Corps Marathon this fall.  Hebrews 12:3,4 uses a similar motif with regard to the Christian walk.  I love how the Message Bible paraphrases it:  “Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we’re in. . . .  Because He never lost sight of where He was headed—that exhilarating finish in and with God—He could put up with anything along the way: cross, shame, whatever. . . .  When you find yourselves flagging in your faith, go over that story again. . . .  that will shoot adrenaline into your souls!”