At mile 7 of 26.2 miles in the Seven Bridges Marathon, I felt like a bolt had been shoved into and through my knee right under my knee cap. I had never felt this pain before on any run, in training, or otherwise.

It was a constant pain shooting through my knee with every jolting step, and it only slightly subsided with a quickened pace, almost to a sprinting pace.

I knew that if I maintained the pace I was going, I would hit ‘The Wall’, athlete terminology meaning your legs will literally not pick themselves up faster than a hobbling walk.

The pain continued until around mile 20. Then, all parts of my legs hurt. I hit mile 21 where my mother and a good friend of mine were waiting with Advil to help with the knee pain.

During the duration of my pain, I was praying to God for my strength, reciting Bible verses, any ones that came to mind, and that helped take my mind off my pain.

I started to feel better, but my legs were so tired—they didn’t want to move at all.

To tell the absolute truth, the last 6 miles were a run on no fuel but that of God. I wasn’t pushing my legs anymore; I didn’t have the strength to.

It was all about relying on God.

Life is sometimes that way, too. We feel like maybe we don’t have a molecule of strength left. But when we are weakest and have hit rock bottom—that’s when God really starts to work miracles.