This is one of the toughest race reports I’ve written. I ran the Cascade Express marathon on September 7, a race capping 12 solid weeks of training. The temperature at the starting line was far too warm. I struggle in races and general training in hot weather, so I struggled for most of the 26.2 miles. The gradual downhill allowed me to hit a Boston Marathon qualifying time, but I don’t anticipate making the cutoff this year.
But the sweatfest and potential loss of my Boston streak aren’t what make this recap difficult.
My entire life has flipped upside down this summer. For years I was traveling a path of selfishness and pride. I saw the major problems in myself, but instead of surrendering them and accepting help, I hid my real self and tried to fix things on my own. Typing these words out, I can see how obviously flawed my approach has been for years.
I had so many warning signs and red flags. For years. But I refused to address the root issues or even acknowledge them. My life was a runaway train, careening toward a cliff. I desperately wanted everyone to think I was completely fine, while deep down I hated who I am and my inability to heal myself.
In my heart, in my head, and with my actions I was unfaithful. I believed in a God who exists somewhere out there but couldn’t possibly care about my problems. My insecurity, my fear, my self loathing, my disastrous life choices, my shortcomings across the board.
Then halfway through my training block for Cascade Express, my life train took a nosedive over the edge.
Before that moment, qualifying for Boston and running from Hopkinton to Boylston Street next April were the most important things to me. My self worth was wrapped up in running and being a Boston finisher. And I was hiding all of the ugliness inside.
But everything changed. From my lowest point, slowly, God revealed glimpses of His plan. Forgiveness and grace, words I’ve heard countless times throughout my life, now have meaning for me. I have been given another chance when I know it’s undeserved.
So when it was time for me to line up in Snoqualamie Pass, Washington, at the starting line for Cascade Express, the hot weather didn’t really matter.
The race began, and I knew immediately that I was going to have a rough day. I hit the halfway point, and I was already soaking wet from sweat and felt like I was overheating.
And in those middle marathon miles, I had peace and comfort. I felt a confidence that no matter the outcome, my life was finally on a better path.
Almost immediately I felt a side stitch. I battled that pain under my right ribs for the final 11 miles of the race.
While running down the trail, I knew I needed to write these words. It is painful to understand how I’ve hurt others, and how I’ve made things worse by attempting to fix my problems alone. And it’s painful admitting these things to other people.
My entire life I have cared so much about how people see me or what they think about me. But I understand now how that has worked against me and the ways it set me up for ruin.
I have signed up for Boston. I’m so happy that I was able to fight through a rough racing day to finish with a 4:56 cushion. But I also know the cutoff will likely be tougher than last year’s 5:29, so my finisher streak is probably over.
And it’s OK.
In the words of Switchfoot (which I heard right at the perfect time during Cascade Express), “we were meant to live for so much more.”
I don’t plan on stopping marathon training or racing any time soon. For years I have grown beards while training for a marathons where I would be attempting to qualify for Boston. My time at the Cascade Express Marathon will qualify me for Boston in 2026 as well as next year, so by my own rule I won’t need to grow another Boston beard until next September when the 2027 window opens. I think I will most likely continue my tradition then. I’ll still be out there training and racing and occasionally looking like a lumberjack. But I hope outside of running that my life looks radically different.
Recovery and transformation won’t just happen. I’ve asked for help, and I’m finally ready to accept it.
Theologian Charles Spurgeon said “had any condition been better for you than the one in which you are, divine love would have put you there.”
Not a single ounce of my body believed those words at the start of August. Just a few weeks later I am convinced.
While I was running through the Cascades I was overheating and struggling to hold my pace. And God told me He will be with me through the flames. Whatever it looks like and whatever the outcome.
For years I felt comfortable in hiding away. I kept my true self in a world of shadows and lies. A place where I could pretend my life was amazing and prevent others from seeing the darkness and pain.
Now it’s time for me to trust and move all the way into the light. No matter what it looks like.