It was then that I carried you.

One of the many "Footprints" mementos I have acquired over the years.

In my last blog post, I told the story of how and why my friend Katie gave me a "Footprints" coin to carry as I ran the 2010 Marine Corps Marathon. If you know that story (or really, if you know Katie and I at all), you realize that this was a joke gift. At least is started out that way.

As you may recall, my training for MCM 2010 was full of challenges. Basically, anything that could have gone wrong, did. I got tendonitis. Then, I got appendicitis. Just as I was recovering from that, I came down with a bad cold. All in all, my training took some major hits and I was nowhere near where I needed to be, training-wise, when I stood at the MCM start line last October.

Any sane person would have postponed the race until the next year. I definitely thought about it. The thing that kept me from dropping out was all the people who had supported me throughout my training. I had dozens of donors to consider, as well as all the people who read this blog, and all of the people who had promised me their thoughts and prayers during the race. Heck, my pastor was dedicating that morning's Eucharist to me! I felt like I could not let those people down. So, I pushed ahead.

I have detailed my sufferings on that day here and here. Basically, my trouble started at mile 14. After doing pretty well for the first half of the race, my body just gave out on me. By mile 15, I was in major pain and I started using a run/walk system just to keep moving forward. "Run" and "walk" are strong words, though. Essentially, I was staggering. I started to get better around mile 20, but I hit some dark moments between 15 and 20. At that point, I really was not sure I could do it.

As I staggered forward, with tears in my eyes, I thought about the "Footprints" coin that Katie had given me. It was getting less and less ironic with every step I took. I said a little prayer, in which I basically told God "Look, you and I both know by now that I can't do this. If you want me to cross that finish line, I'm going to need your help." After that, I thought about all of the people supporting me again. I looked at my watch and realized that my church was in session at that precise moment. I thought about everyone at church praying for me and literally tried to feel them lifting me up. It didn't take all of the pain away, but it definitely helped.

I think about all of this when I talk to my friend Emily about St. Lydia's. Emily and Rachel started St. Lydia's as an experiment in a friend's home. At that point, and for many months to come, they both had full-time day jobs. St. Lydia's was their passion, but it was also a hobby. Then, over time, St. Lydia's grew enough that Emily and Rachel were able to cut back their day jobs and allow St. Lydia's to be their work.

I remember talking to Emily right before she made this transition. The same weekend, I also talked to a writer friend who was in the process of quitting her day job and devoting herself full-time to her passion. I was in awe of the courage of both of these friends- the sheer nerve and confidence it took them to say "This is what I want to do and I believe it can be my living." In the course of our conversation, Emily told me that she and Rachel had established a "prayer team" for St. Lydia's: a group of non-members who simply agreed to pray for their ministry. Emily said that, whenever she started to worry about St. Lydia's and her future, her awareness of this prayer team gave her courage and comfort.

At the moment, St. Lydia's is facing a new challenge. Shortly after moving into a new worship space, they have been forced to move out due to structural problems with the building (you can read about it here). Just as they were making a big step forward in their life together as a congregation, they find themselves essentially homeless. Emily, Rachel, and the St. Lydia's congregation are very resilient, and they are finding creative ways around these challenges. Nonetheless, it is a blow to their community.

Given what St. Lydia's is going through, I am happier than ever that I can support them in my own small way, by dedicating my NYC marathon to them. My first marathon taught me that the thoughts and prayers of people who care about you can lift you up at your lowest moments. This time, I hope that my prayer- in the form of thousands of tiny steps- can lift up St. Lydia's.