Life presents both exhilarating highs and devastating lows. I have one young friend who, in a matter of weeks, went from running races to needing a pacemaker. And another who traveled across the country with the love of her life only to discover the relationship was over.

These kinds of uncontrollable features of life propel many of us into never-ending attempts to secure an existence free from such exhausting extremes. We seek out careers with medical benefits and secure retirement packages. We participate in self-improvement efforts meant to make us happy and put us in control of our lives. And yet, despite all our careful precautions life has a way of undoing such plans in surprising ways.

Challenges and disappointments will persist. Rather than engaging in acts of avoidance and mitigation, participating in running, particularly the marathon, can provide a poignant metaphor for and a meaningful way to confront life.

Sometimes described as the distance to hell and back, the marathon (which is actually 26.2 miles) possesses particular qualities due to this substantial distance. The preparation itself requires numerous miles and an unfailing commitment to daily workouts to build the capacity necessary to complete the distance. The length of this race also entails significant risks of injury, including dehydration, heat exhaustion, and even sudden heart failure. Yet, the sense of exhilaration and accomplishment at the end of such an endeavor is beyond description.

Most importantly, running a marathon pits us against the very real physical and mental limits of our existence in ways that allow us to reflect on how we can and ought to engage with the disappointments we all experience.

I will never forget the lesson I learned during my first marathon. I had trained well and thought I might be able to run it with a time of 3:15. It all went as planned until mile 18 at which time a debilitating fatigue overtook me (a feeling often referred to as the “wall”). I pushed through this mental and physiological weariness until mile 20 when my legs simply refused to run at the pace I had been maintaining up until that point. By mile 22 I could hardly move my legs beyond more than a slow jog. I stopped and walked at times but found that starting to run again after walking breaks was too painful, so I just kept running (or rather hobbling). Eventually I finished; thrilled at having prevailed.

What I later learned was that my muscles had reached their lactate threshold (the point at which the acidic byproducts of muscle contraction are being produced in the muscles faster than they can be removed). Which, at that time meant no amount of positive thinking or self-talk could have made my legs go any faster. All that was left for me at that point was the grim and painful push through the obstacle.

The magic bullet regarding this issue came about from researching specific training techniques that condition the body to manage these acid build ups during a race. Forms of speedwork (fast paced runs at tempo speeds or sprints at relatively short intervals) have proven very effective and I have never experienced such muscle failure in a marathon since.

Just like with my first marathon, we do and will continuously encounter very real impediments and challenges in life that cannot be wished away. Some may even be debilitating but they can all be embraced. At times, the best that we can hope to do is endure and continue. At other times, careful study and proactive responses can enable us to overcome the challenges. There is much we can learn from disappointing life events; however, at other times it may not be beneficial. Running as a metaphor and practice provides numerous opportunities for reflection and insight into living a meaningful and vibrant life.