Generally, the World Major Marathons––which includes the historic Boston Marathon––are spread out evenly throughout the spring and fall. However, due to COVID-19, the concentration of road races in fall of 2021 was of unprecedented density.
The Chicago Marathon thus fell the day before the October Boston Marathon, which was my first Boston. Scrolling on social media, trying to make my pre-race nerves go away, I saw a post from a Chicago-based Catholic influencer that I almost wished I could unsee.
This influencer happened to be living on the Chicago marathon course, and she posted a picture looking out her window at the sea of runners. Her caption was a prayer and reflection on all these people below her, who have paid money that could have been donated elsewhere, and spend hundreds of hours training just to “prove their worth” on a course that will soon be over. She prayed for them to find their worth in Jesus instead.
I found myself feeling hurt, thinking, “But what about me, I did all those things but I also know my worth in Jesus?” As a new Boston marathoner and as a Catholic, I have a very different view than this post. And like many things in the faith, it’s probably a both-and, not black and white.
My marathon experience was wrapped in prayer, soaked in moments of learning to love myself, my body, my community, and my God even more. My journey was steeped in trust in the unknowing––I had a major health crisis in the year prior to running Boston. I wasn’t sure at times if I would make it at all, let alone be well enough to run again. After months of being a frequent flier at MGH and Boston Children’s, several rare disease diagnoses, and a few surgeries, I showed up on the racecourse. I cried tears of prayer. I covered my arms in Catholic temporary tattoos––including “Jesus, I trust in you” and “Verso L’Alto”––which I looked down at for strength in the hard moments like Heartbreak Hill. I had written Pat Gregorek’s name on my wrist––a Catholic BC student who passed my freshman year, and whom I often consider to be my heavenly running buddy. His fourth anniversary of going home to Jesus is the day the paper is printed.
I have always considered athletics as a way of glorifying God, as long as we give credit to him for talent and direct all praise back to Him. It’s a way of loving, challenging, and appreciating the body He made me. For me in particular, it was a process of wrestling and then marveling at the strength of the human body––as I went from failure to thrive in February, major surgery in July, to marathon in October, then to my second Boston hopefully this April.
The marathon brought me closer to nature, marveling at the ocean I ran beside or how the light filtered through the trees. It brought me closer to people too though. For both last October and now for this April, I run for the Boston Children’s Miles for Miracles team. Not only have I made some beautiful friends on that team, but my friends at BC also showed up in big ways for me too. Through both marathon seasons, they’ve helped me fundraise through a wild cookie-baking initiative. We laughed and cried and told each other cookie puns while we baked and delivered over 5,000 cookies to the BC community.
And on the big day, my friends were there at Mile 21. From the top of Heartbreak Hill through Cleveland Circle, our community showed up for me. Waving cut-outs of my face (which caught me off guard, but was hilariously wonderful), there was no shortage of hugs, high-fives, cheers, and even some friends who hopped the corral to run with me for a few yards. Your brain shuts down a little bit during a run of that length, and to have friends to remind me of what a big accomplishment this was––to beat a rare disease and then still reach my goal of running Boston senior year—was beyond special.
So, I don’t think I set out to run Boston because I was lost and searching for a way to prove my worth like that influencer suggested. I think I knew my worth, and these two Boston Marathon training cycles have deepened that knowledge. My first Boston was a truly beautiful experience, and beauty is where we find God. And I’ve got my sights set on finding beauty again this Patriot’s Day on Boylston Street.
To support Olivia’s fundraising for the Children’s Hospital, where Olivia received treatment and now runs in honor of a patient who shares the same rare diseases, visit this link to read more of her story.
(http://fundraise.childrenshospital.org/goto/livrunsboston)
Previously the Campus News Editor and Catholicism 101 Editor, Olivia dabbles in The Torch’s writing and photography. She is a senior studying theology and applied psychology and human development with a minor in journalism. She is unashamedly passionate about youth ministry, Haiti, all things charismatic, the Oxford comma, and CatholicTV––where she can often be found as an on-camera news reporter or host of the To the Heights podcast.
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- A Tale of 5,000 Cookies and A Rare Disease - February 28, 2022
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