The Gabe Jenkins Blog

Four weeks ago, I asked Jeff Mayhugh if he ever runs. His response was, "No way!" What happened over the next thirty days is nothing short of miraculous. I asked him to share his inspiring story.

Running for your life - what God taught me in 26.2 miles
By Jeff Mayhugh

I have been an unashamed couch potato for the last couple of decades. Up until very recently, my heart was beating just well enough to allow me to sit in front of my home office computer screen by day, and my TV screen by night. My two constant companions were my mouse and remote control. Walking my dog was the extent of my cardiovascular exercise regimen.

Surprisingly, about six weeks ago, my wife told me about her goal to conquer the Manitou Incline; an intimidating, steep, mile-long staircase of railroad ties cut into and up the side of a mountain near Colorado Springs. On a whim, I decided to “do the incline” so I could tell her what to expect. What was I thinking?! Half-way up the face of the mountain, I was intimidated, gasping, aching, and wishing that I had never heard of the “incline.” But, the thought of returning home to my wife in defeat kept me moaning and groaning ever so slowly to the top.

The following day, I limped into church where I was volunteering to assist at my daughter’s youth service. I informed the Youth Pastor, Gabe Jenkins, of my previous day’s exploit. Rather than sympathizing, much to my horror, he suggested that we do the “incline” together. He told me about his intention to run a half marathon coming up soon in Denver, and that the “incline” would be good training for the event. I said, “Sure, let’s do it!” Again, what was I thinking?!

The fact is, I was both inspired and motivated by the thought of joining him on the incline. After all, I would be climbing that tower of stairs with someone who was accustomed to running several miles on a regular basis and training for a big race. I would be proud to be in his company. But, I thought, “I’d better do something to get ready for this, and quick!” So, the next day I managed to jog a whole mile on a relatively flat trail before my legs betrayed me. More than a little discouraged, and after a few days of recovery, I really pushed myself to jog almost two miles. It was more than painful, but I survived.

A few days later, the sequel to my “incline” nightmare had arrived. As we drove to the base of my impending doom, Gabe told me about his training program. He described how he started running 3 miles a couple of times per week, then 4 miles, then 5 miles, etc. At this point, I was becoming accustomed to feeling inferior.

As we scaled the “incline,” I managed to keep from embarrassing myself. As we reached the summit, between gasps for air, we talked about people and movies that inspired us. On the long stretch of Barr Trail that snaked down another side of the mountain back to the parking lot far below, Gabe listened to my dream of starting a non-profit organization called “A Greater Purpose.” My general plan for this charity fundraising organization, I explained, would allow me to do something more meaningful and fulfilling with my life, and encourage others to do the same. Although he raised some important questions and offered some valuable insights to the non-profit world (an alien planet to me), most importantly, he listened as I began solidifying in my mind the reasons for pursuing my lofty goal.

That walk and talk left me searching for guidance, direction, and especially, courage to pursue something larger than I would have ever allowed myself too seriously consider. I prayed. I prayed some more. And then I listened.

The response I got was not an audible voice, rather, I received a sense that God wanted to teach me something before I fully committed to “A Greater Purpose.” Or, maybe He was putting my conviction to the test. Either way, I received a tiny spark of a thought that at the time, I had no idea would later burst into a white-hot desire. The thought was this: “What if you proved to yourself that what you think is impossible, is in fact possible, if you have faith in Me?” With that cryptic question, I wondered, what impossible thing could I attempt to do to test my faith in Him? Then, just as suddenly as the question was raised, the answer came to me…run in and complete the upcoming Denver marathon! The thought seemed so ridiculous that I quickly dismissed it. After all, it almost killed me to jog two miles! Just the thought of running 26.2 consecutive miles was, well, unthinkable.

I quickly rejected the challenge and buried the notion. But as I continued praying about “A Greater Purpose,” the thought resurfaced. Although I resisted what I thought I was being called to do, something inside compelled me to see how far I could push my ever softening middle-age body. The next day, after climbing the incline with Gabe, I ran an unheard of five miles! At first, I questioned how I had done it, but deep down, I knew that I had been energized by the power of God to do what just a few days earlier was, in my mind, impossible.

I told Gabe that I would be interested in going with him on one of his training runs. The first run with him led to another longer run by myself the next day. Gabe asked if I was considering running in the marathon. Still, I resisted what God was doing in me, and responded that I would try running a few more times to see how my legs held out. Clearly, I was still hesitating to commit to what I was being called to do.

I found myself searching the internet for proof that there was no way someone who was a 49- year-old, self-proclaimed couch potato could run a marathon with only a month of training. Sure enough, I went online and found everything I needed. There were scores of 6-month training programs. Digging further, I found a few 4-month crash courses, and even a 3-month training plan for those who were willing to brutally punish their bodies. But, according to more than one expert on the subject, nobody should attempt a marathon without a minimum of 3 months of training. The human body, they stated authoritatively, is just not designed to take the abuse of a marathon without at least 3 months of training. What a relief. I was off the hook.

Even as I prayed and told God that I must have misunderstood Him, I knew that I was not being honest with Him. I could feel Him smiling, patiently waiting for me to do His will.

Still, I let my intellect override my spirit. After only a couple of miles running, I was having some major pains in my lower calves that appeared to be a tendon problem. Not only did I have expert advice, but physical deficiencies to justify not fulfilling what I felt God was expecting of me. But, I have since learned that He has an unwavering belief in me. When I told Gabe about my calf problem, he told me about a place that I could go to have my running gate analyzed and get fitted for shoes that might help. So I did. And what do you know? The new shoes solved the problem.

Finally, I gave in to what I was convinced God was directing me to do. I filled out the marathon registration form online, prayed once more for courage and His supernatural strength, held my breath, looked at my completed registration form in utter disbelief, and clicked “submit.” Let the fear of pain and failure begin.

With less than four weeks until the marathon, I sought advice and encouragement from every friend and credible source I could find. I started training runs of 6 – 14 miles, beginning by moonlight at 5:00 A.M. so I could whip my legs, heart, and lungs into shape before work each day. I needed to reach a peak 20-mile run within two weeks. This would allow time to taper down the length of my runs for the following couple of weeks and give my body time to recover before the race day.

Almost over night, ice packs and Advil became my new best friends. I would run several miles for two days and rest the next day. Of course, my “rest days” were actually “hobble around with aching joints & muscles and try to heal the entire lower half of my body days.” I could share with you the physical problems I experienced, trying to cram 3 – 6 months of training into four weeks, but suffice it to say, it was something I won’t be able to forget fast enough.

The 20-mile run I mentioned was designed to teach me to push past the pain that was sure to seem overwhelming after about 10 – 12 miles. Although it might have worked (somewhat) for my body, at mile 14 of my 20-miler, I found myself limping along at a snail’s pace in agony for the remaining six miles. This did little to boost my confidence that my body could endure an additional 6.2 miles that a marathon required, regardless of what my brain commanded it to do.

That was the point where I could decide to hang it up and resign myself to the fact that I just didn’t have enough time to transform my body for the Denver marathon, or have faith that it would not be by my own strength that I would finish the race. Although I didn’t think it was physically possible for me to do it alone, I accepted that where my strength in the natural ended, my faith in God’s supernatural strength would hold me up and carry me to the finish line.

The enemy worked me over the next two weeks. Self-doubt was now my virtually constant companion. What did I think I was doing? “You’ve never been a runner. How are you going to feel when you have to face your two young daughters and tell them that Daddy didn’t make it?” I asked myself. How would I feel when my aging and unconditioned body simply couldn’t withstand the beating of over 26 miles of hard pavement? How could I actually be attempting this? Again, what was I thinking?

But every time my fears were getting the best of me, my ever faithful friend and guardian stepped in. He reminded me that it is not by my own strength, but by His strength that anything is possible. As Jesus did, I commanded Satan to get behind me. I called on God to temper me and guide my steps, all 207,540 of them that I estimated would be needed to complete the marathon.

As the race day approached, I actually started to believe that I might be able to do it. An idea that seemed laughable to me just a few weeks earlier, was now within the realm of remote possibility. As I prayed and received confidence from Him, my desire to do the impossible saturated me. Sure, fear of failure still invaded my thoughts, but I began to dismiss the fears and insecurities that I knew were being sent by the enemy. I concentrated on my growing passion to test my faith by doing something impossible with His strength supporting me.

Sooner than I needed, but slower than I wanted, the day of the marathon arrived. I felt strong physically, emotionally, and spiritually. As I stood waiting with over 15,000 anxious would-be marathon runners at the starting corrals, I felt more alive than I could remember. The sensation brought to mind a quote from St. Iranaeus that Gabe had imparted to me; “The glory of God is in man fully alive…” Yes, that was it. I was at that moment fully alive, and God was rejoicing in me. It became clear to me that of course it’s important to do your best and finish what you start, but what God really wanted for me was to feel fully alive. He didn’t just want me to train and finish a race. He wanted me to experience something new and exciting with great expectation and joy. I realized it was time for one last prayer before I became a marathon runner.

Moments before the start of the race, I prayed that I would feel His presence throughout the race. I told him that I was not going to concentrate on finishing for the sake of my ego, to travel the distance in a certain amount of time, to beat another runner, or even concern myself with finishing the race at all. Instead, I committed to enjoying every aspect of what I was about to experience. For the next 5 or more hours, I would HAVE FUN running in a marathon! I would revel in the fact that He had brought me to this place that just a few weeks ago, seemed like a preposterous idea.

When the starting horn blew, I launched into a confident, comfortable stride. The time had come. I was actually doing it. And, it felt great! The course was lined with cheering fans as the huge herd of runners started on the long trek through the city streets. I reminded myself to contain my excitement and settle into a pace that would allow me to savor this once in a lifetime moment; my first and possibly only marathon!

With each passing mile marker, the mob of runners began to thin out, as did many of the enthusiastic screaming spectactors that marked the beginning of the race. In my mind, I heard all the voices of friends who had encouraged and advised me over the last several days. The prayers they offered filled me and made me smile while I noticed other runners were starting to look strained.

As the race wore on, rather than focusing on the pain in the various parts of my legs, I kept my attention on the beautiful city skyline, the gorgeous parks, and small groups of supporters who were around almost every corner. As I saw children eagerly holding up their hands to offer “high fives,” I sacrificed slightly quicker routes on the course to move closer to them and slap their hands, calling out, “All right! Thanks for the help!”

A few hours into the race, not only did many of the runners start looking down at the pavement with fatigue, but even the occasional lines of high-school cheerleaders ahead of me were losing their original high-powered enthusiasm. As I drew closer to them, I held out my hand to offer “high fives” and thank them. I noticed that this simple acknowledgement of what they were doing seemed to rejuvenate them. They would start screaming and jumping up and down again. We were feeding off of each other! I could still hear them cheering with exuberance well after I was several yards down the course.

There were characters wearing wild costumes and waving a variety of signs along the way. There were plenty of the traditional, “You can do it!” and “Don’t stop now!” signs. Others included, “Chuck Norris never ran a marathon!” and “Bike Rides - $50/mile!” that kept me encouraged and laughing along the way.

That was something I never expected. I was actually smiling, laughing, and having fun with people as I was in the middle of the most physically demanding challenge of my life. As it was happening, I knew that was what God really wanted for me. He didn’t want me to grind through the day in pain and agony so that I could say I’d finished a marathon. He wanted me to be fully alive and truly enjoying everything that this special day had to offer.

During the final miles of the race, I had an undeniable confidence that I was going to finish the race. There was no doubt. There was no fear. I had finally arrived at the place God had been planning for me. I imagined Jesus running beside me, proudly sporting his new Nike running shoes, smiling at me as I finally got the lesson. Yes, what I thought was impossible, was not only possible with Him, but it was a blast!

I searched for my wife and daughters in the crowd that lined the last few blocks prior to the finish line. I was anxious to finish, but even more excited about seeing them as I did it. And there they were, just a few yards from the finish line, screaming, and jumping up and down. What a feeling! Words can’t really describe it, but if you’re a husband or wife with children, you can imagine what a moment that was for me. I blew them several kisses as I ran the last few yards.

When I saw the finish line a few strides away, I put my hand over my heart and raised my other hand with two fingers pointing as far as I could reach over my head to Him. With my last breath as I crossed the finish line, I called out, “Glory be to you!”

I was physically spent, but emotionally and spiritually overflowing! God had done his work in me and taught me lessons that I will use in every aspect of this life He has given me. Yes, what I think is impossible, really is possible when I have faith in Him. And as I reach, stretch, grow, and travel, God is glorified as I truly enjoy every step, fully alive!