All week long my mind looked for excuses as I watched the weather. Things like how cold and wet it was “supposed” be with 100% chance of rain…all day.  The fact was I hadn’t run in 3 weeks and only 7-8 times this summer due to injury, ego and laziness. Therefore, I wanted to drop out. I wanted to quit. I knew my body wasn’t ready and certainly neither was my mind. Fear was overtaking me…

Yet somewhere late last week, I decided to let go of my fear. I decided to live in the moment and see what miracle God had in store for me…again. The reality was, God had given us a miracle cure for our son’s epilepsy and I was using the race to raise awareness and to honor the 1 in 26 that will be diagnosed. Therefore, I gave the run to Him. I gave the fear to Him. I chose faith over fear. “Lord, please keep me safe. Please use this race to bring hope to others. Please help me finish.” Slowly, small signs began to happen the night before…

First, my daughter came and surprised me with her friend to help be my pit crew.  Next, my wife lovingly continued to encourage me with “You got this, I believe in you. Just take your time.” Lastly, my son reminded me that “God is more powerful than any plan or will of our own and that our biggest enemy will always be the man staring back at you in the mirror.” With this, I faded off to sleep, more at peace then I had previously been.

Race morning came early…4:30am.  As expected, it was cold and wet, and my anxiety was high. Breakfast, a shower and doing a final gear check gave me little comfort. As usual, my brother-in-law picked me up at 6:30am with his 80’s playlist of workout songs blaring to take my mind off the challenge ahead. No turning back now. As I arrived at the race, I huddled under the overhang as the rain poured down, again wondering, “what had I gotten myself into” and worried how I would navigate wet feet. Suddenly a text from a friend that lived nearby broke my fearful thoughts. She was walking down to wish me luck! We stood under her umbrella and talked, calming my nerves. “Just do your best” she warmly said with a smile.

Suddenly, it was race time. Here we go! I lined up with the 5:30 hour group, knowing I would need a time cushion for breaks if I was to make the official 6 hour cutoff. You see, that was the plan: Slow and steady. As 1 step led to 2 steps, the journey began. Slowly, I believe that God encouraged me by placing other runners along side of me.  We chatted, laughed, and shared our unique journeys that brought us “here”, empathizing on the challenge still ahead.  As I looked up, I noticed that the rain I had feared had suddenly stopped. The expected knee pain that had begun at mile 6 slowly began to disappear. All I could do was keep taking steps. It seemed He was at work, carrying me, clearing my path, showing me the way. Like clockwork, every 2-3 miles I could count on soup, snacks, hydration and most of all hope from my “pit crew” (wife, daughter and her friend).

As I got to mile 15, I got a massive boost of energy from the GE Vernova team running the water station. Cheers, hugs, smiles and words of encouragement lifted me up. As I entered mile 20, it was clear…I was dead last. As the 6 hour pacer caught me, she gently said “You have to stay with me if you want an official finish time…but you can do it.” Fear again crept into my mind. Exhaustion weighed heavy. Candidly, I was ready to quit, but for the next 6.2 miles, I somehow dug deeper than I ever thought possible. Suddenly, the finish line was visible as the 6 hour pacer smiled proudly and said “Go ahead, this is your moment.” With my wife screaming from the side, “You only have about a minute!”, I went into a full sprint dropping my phone and throwing my water bottle. As I watched the clock slowly tick down, emotion filled me as my pace and heart rate increased. All I thought was, “God help me make the 6 hour cutoff time!”  In my red rain jacket and a flash of light, I felt like Lightening McQueen as I flew across the finish line (LOL) with only a handful of seconds to spare. I did it! Wait, actually He did it! In fact, it wasn’t  by my own plan or will, rather I did it because I believed through Him anything is possible.  Faith had prevailed. Cramps, tears and hugs came next…

Sometimes in life, fear can mislead us. It can trap us. It can prevent us from becoming who God intends. Fear can limit what we think is possible…if we let it. For me, this race taught me (again) to always choose faith over fear, to always take the next step when you think you cannot and to see the people he places in our lives to help us. Matt’s miracle cure is not only because we trusted in God, but because we took the steps we could along the way, finding purpose in the pain to help others. Today, I find myself filled with the gratitude of God’s miracle for my son, for carrying me through the race yesterday (and every day), and for placing each of you in my life. Always remember, it’s in the storm we build strength, courage and resilience as well are given a glimpse of what we are capable of overcoming and becoming. Stay grateful, keep stepping and keep believing we can find a cure for those unable to achieve seizure control.