Yesterday I ran my second marathon. 22 miles of feeling-pretty-good, followed by 4.2 miles of I-would-like-to-die-please. I suppose that's typical. As this was not my first marathon, I didn't have the worries of whether or not I could finish, but I did worry that I wouldn't make my time goal (which I didn't), and after realizing that desired finish was impossible (around mile 23), I worried that I'd love this race less than the first one.
But I suppose marathons, like every other race, tend to take on the qualities of joy/sorrow that the time period of training and completion has inspired. I have the first-half-marathon memory, the fastest-half-marathon (coupled with the half-marathon-with-the-kid-sister) memory, the half-marathon-the-day-after-the-breakup memory, the half-marathon-in-a-downpour memory, the first-full-marathon memory. And now, I have the marathon-with-Kristen memory.
Kristen is one of my dearest friends. It's a friendship that has only developed in the last couple of years, but it has been a huge, happy blessing in my life. One of those friendships that after it's made, you can't quite remember how you lived without it. She's a better, faster runner than I am, but she'd never done a marathon, so I was happy to weasel her into signing up for this one. We didn't run together often, but we talked about it all the time. We supported each other through injuries (this was not a good year for ankles) and various mental and physical hurdles, and we celebrated the milestones that build a training program (survival of the 20-miler is a big one).
But, more importantly, she is someone I could share my post-its with. In 2009, for my first marathon, I wrote two verses on post-its. One post-it had Isaiah 40:31, one had Hebrews 12:1. They were always the verses that meant the most to me while running, and carrying them along lifted me at the moments I needed lifting. After the race, I stuck the smeared, ugly surviving scraps on my fridge, where they rested until yesterday. I gave Kristen my Isaiah 40:31, and I kept Hebrews for myself, promising myself that if a poor, flimsy post-it could survive a marathon, I could surely survive another one, too.
I have been blessed by many wonderful female friendships, each of them dear to me, and a handful more lasting and powerful than others. I cannot say that my friendships with practicing Christians are the more important ones, because that is completely untrue. My best friends, Christian and non-Christian alike, have loved and carried me in ways that are counted as blessings in my life, regardless of whether I thank God for that and they don't. But it is a special, intimate joy to be able to share God with someone who means so much to you, for it to be an uncomplicated, easy thing, to pass a piece of paper with a bible verse written on it to a friend and know that she values the words and what they are capable of as much as I do. I don't have to say, "this is why this is important to me." I could articulate it if I wanted to, but to have the explanation be unnecessary is a remarkable thing.
So the marathon-with-Kristen memory is deeper than that. This is the marathon-I-shared-my-post-its memory, which is infinitely more special.
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