I compete in half marathons, 13.1 miles. Sounds crazy, huh? But it’s only half as crazy as competing in full marathons, 26.2 miles. Running 13.1 miles requires quite a bit of training. Even running 3.1 miles takes a bit of training. Part of that training includes competing in shorter races. This last Sunday I competed in a 10 mile race.

In a perfect world, I would have trained for this race almost as long as I train for a half. But for several reasons I did not. First of all, my husband, who is also my running partner, had sinus surgery. Secondly, allergies hit me especially hard this spring and I just didn’t feel like slogging through 15 to 20 miles a week. We had signed up for the race several months ago with every intention of competing, but I decided that I just wasn’t going to do it. However, as April 15 got closer and I began to feel better, I changed my mind. The hotel reservation had been made–yes, we even travel to other cities to run–and the rest of our running group was going even though only one other woman was going to race. I was a little scared; 10 miles is hard. Nevertheless, Sunday morning, 7:30, I was on my way to my assigned corral.

Racing is more than a good pair of shoes, although that is the most important equipment a runner or walker needs. The next most important thing needed or at least the most popular thing is technology: iPods, ear buds, cell phones, and GPS watches. Me? I always take my cell phone in case of emergency, but no iPod or ear buds. I do use a GPS watch. So as I walked to the start, I turned my watch on. It immediately gave me the low battery warning. Then I realized that I forgotten to charge my watch because I had not been training. I was going to be without knowing distance or pace or time for 10 miles. I was going to be totally reliant on the mile markers and electronic timers and my own muscle memory for pace. I told myself, “It’s OK. I can do this.”

For every race I have a goal and a strategy to reach that goal. My first goal is to finish. My second goal was to finish in no more than 2 1/2 hours, a 15 minute pace. I use intervals which means alternating between running and walking. My strategy for this particular race was to walk for three minutes and run at a very slow pace (what I call my granny pace) for one minute. Then toward the end of the race, if I had anything left, I’d shorten the walk interval and lengthen the run interval. Fortunately, I had brought my interval timer.

Since I don’t use an iPod, I have to make up my own diversions. This race was billed as 20 bands and 10 miles. Every half mile or so there was a band, a nice diversion but I needed more. So I thought about problems and issues I have and tried to work out solutions in my mind as I walked and ran along. This worked for about 3 or 4 miles and then the miles started to wear me down.

As I ate up more distance, my muscles began to hurt and the humidity began to get to me. I had some gel and took some electrolyte pills. My groin, where my legs attach to my hips, was really tight. This was a new pain for me; I chocked it up to my lack of training. I needed something to think about, something to keep my mind occupied.

Another thing I do is study Greek. Not Greek that anyone speaks, but ancient Greek. I have a reading partner and we read the Greek New Testament together. Currently we are making our way through 2 Corinthians, chapters 4 and 5. These chapters are about our earthly, perishable bodies and our heavenly, imperishable bodies, about how as our earthly bodies are wasting away but inwardly we are being renewed. At about mile 6, I needed that reminder. My earthly body was definitely hurting. It was showing me that it is wasting away no matter how I try to take care of it. At that point in the race I needed to know that somewhere inside, I was being renewed. I drew on that to keep going.

From my brain I wrestled up a verse I had memorized in Greek, 2 Corinthians 5:17. In English, it goes like this: Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has gone, the new has come!

I thought about the rest of my running group: 3 couples who all went to high school together, except one husband (but we adopted him). All three husbands weren’t racing because of health challenges: sinus surgery (my husband), brain surgery, and chemo for malignant melanoma. One wife didn’t race because she trained even less than I did. The woman who walked the race has spine issues. I have problems too, but nothing that effects my running. We are all falling apart and getting old. It is evident that our earthly bodies are wasting away. We need the promise that inwardly we are being renewed. More than that, when our perishable bodies cease, we will have new, imperishable bodies.

Thinking about all of this and concentrating my mind on Greek distracted me for several miles. When I could see the finish line, I had some left, so I ran as fast as I could over the finish line. My time was 2:17:08, a 14:34 pace, faster than I had predicted. Not bad for an old body, don’t you think?

I have a woodpile in my front yard. To the untrained eye it is a flowerbed, a very large flowerbed. It covers about half of our yard and is planted in a groundcover of asiatic jasmine. There is also a stand of shrimp plant and a stand of turk’s cap. And it’s dotted with four live oaks. These are good. However, there is also an invasion of potato vine. This is not good.

Potato vine is a very fast growing plant that is not tempermental as far as water and light goes. It does well in little or much sun, little or much water. And it’s very difficult to get rid of. It is intertwined in the asiatic jasmine. It is climbing up the live oaks. It is climbing up and around the turk’s cap and the shrimp plant. And it has made a run at climbing up the front bay window. My husband took care of that by wrenching it’s hold from the screen and jerking that one arm of the vine out. But I know it is still there, lying in wait until he turns his back and in the blink of an eye, it will be back, creeping and crawling up the screen, trying to obliterate the view from inside the house. I hate potato vine!

I must admit that it has gotten out of hand because I have not been diligent about killing it. The year before last I spent quite a bit of time pulling it, dousing it with Round Up, cutting it back from the trees and windows. The plant was relentless and I was not. This is going to be the year that it’s eradicated, or at least mortally wounded.

As I’ve studied the encroachment of this plant, it has occurred to me that I have some potato vine kind of things in my life, things that I let grow and overrun my best intentions until they are no longer anything but dim memories of what I should do and how I should be. In my friendships, potato vines are failing to return a phone call or email until the object of that message is forgotten but the slight is not. Potato vines are failing to remember an important date such as a birthday or anniversary of a death date. Potato vines creep into my thought life as they entwine around prayers and become regrets of “if only” or revenge of “I should have said”. Potato vines creep into my marriage and choke out kindness and patience so that only anger remains.

Only assiduous work will eradicate that potato vine from my actions, thoughts and attitudes. Finding it wherever it’s growing and pulling it out by the roots or pouring on the anti-poison of loving kindness. All the while diligently watching and keeping alert to its presence.

I am ready to do whatever it takes to win my flowerbed–and my actions and thoughts and attitudes–back from the enemy. I am the hunter, the killer. Potato vine, say your prayers, partner. You are a goner.