Running with God Across America

By Jeff Grabosky

What makes a person undertake a solo and unsupported 3,700 mile run across the United States? For Jeff Grabosky, it begins four years prior to his crossing with a series of tragic events. Jeff prays his way through his darkest days, and the prayers are answered in a remarkable way. Jeff responds to the call on his heart to run across America to encourage people to pray. Jeff prays for thousands of prayer intentions sent to him from all over the world as he averages well over a marathon per day. The story of the transcontinental journey takes you through a wide variety of challenges on the road, in his mind, and in his heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477128848

Jeff Grabosky

Jeff Grabosky grew up in the town of Holmdel, New Jersey. He went on to attend the University of Notre Dame, where he earned degrees in both finance and theology. In 2011, Jeff completed a solo and unsupported coast to coast run across America of three thousand seven hundred miles. Jeff currently coaches, works at a local running store, and also gives motivational talks. While anxious to discover his next big adventure, Jeff enjoys spending time with his family in Northern Virginia.

Book preview

Copyright © 2012 by Jeff Grabosky.

Library of Congress Control Number:          2012910726

ISBN:                  Hardcover                        978-1-4771-2883-1

ISBN:                  Softcover                         978-1-4771-2882-4

ISBN:                  Ebook                             978-1-4771-2884-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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Contents

PART I

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

PART II

THE BEGINNING

UP AND OVER

RUNNING THROUGH TROUBLE

IN GOOD COMPANY

FORWARD ON FAITH

PUSHING THE LIMIT

THE HOME STRETCH

EPILOGUE

Reviews

Jeff Grabosky ran 3,700 miles across America to clear his head, put his life back together, and pray for the intentions of others. Along the way, he confronted a long and lonesome highway and his own rocky emotional terrain. This book is ‘Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance’ for believing Christians.

-Brett M. Decker, Editorial Page Editor, Washington Times

Jeff Grabosky is living proof that we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us (Phil 4:13). Powered by prayer, Jeff ran from despair to hope… and then A-Cross the entire country. His miraculous journey will inspire you to pray and believe that God-sized works can indeed be accomplished through us (1 Cor 3:6). As a lifetime Catholic runner, I felt called to meet Jeff when I discovered his route passed nearby in Illinois. Our meeting has God’s fingerprints all over it. A high-five for Jeff’s redemptive running (Heb 12:1-2)!

-Dr. Patrick Castle, LIFE Group president, National LIFE Runners coach http://liferunners.org

Can you imagine running across an entire continent, for the most part alone (along with 80 pounds of gear in a well-worn baby stroller)? Well you don’t have to do it of course—or even just imagine it. You can experience this amazing physical and spiritual odyssey in the comfort of your easy chair by reading Jeff Grabosky’s Running with God across America. As you can tell from his title though, Jeff was never really alone. Read this book to learn why he did it, how he did it, who he met, who he prayed for and with, and to learn how you too can be inspired to go that extra mile for God.

-Kevin Vost, Psy.D., author of Catholic books including Memorize the Faith! & Three Irish Saints

Dedication

To my father, Jerry

my late mother, Valerie

my sister, Kristina

and my brother, David

I am so blessed to be a part of a family

that has always believed in me

PART I

Introduction

CHAPTER ONE

You can only come to the morning through the shadows.

J. R. R. Tolkien

Nights were the worst. Each time the sun went down, a part of me hoped I would not be around when it came back up the following morning. I had never felt so lost and hopeless. The feeling of despair sank deeper with each passing moment, making it impossible to think I could ever be happy again.

Everything seemed to be working against me. On one particular December night in Chicago, I was even depressed about my height. I tried my best to stretch out my lanky, six-foot-three-inch body. It was no surprise that I was unable to get comfortable. My only escape from life was in my dreams, but I could not even manage to fall asleep. I cursed my height as I sat up to turn on the heat for a few minutes. It was useless. The numbing cold returned as soon as I removed the keys from the ignition and lay down again in the backseat of my Honda Civic. I curled up my legs and pulled my coat around me as tight as possible.

I had parked in a church parking lot for the night. I felt safe there. It was an effort to get as close to the Lord as possible. I felt abandoned in so many ways but held on to the hope that God would never leave my side. Everything I owned was in the car with me, but the only thing I truly possessed was a small amount of hope that things would get better. At that moment, I had a difficult time imagining how the situation could get any worse.

As I had done a hundred times already that night, I replayed in my mind how my life had fallen apart. It was difficult to think back to only a year earlier. I had married my girlfriend of three years and bought a house soon after the wedding. My parents and two siblings had all visited me in my new home. Working in auto insurance was not ideal, but my coworkers were awesome, and I earned a good living. My life was not perfect, but I was surrounded by those I loved. My outlook on life was very optimistic, and there were even plans of having kids one day. Life was good, and the future appeared bright.

I had always adored my wife and loved her very much. We met during my sophomore year at Notre Dame and instantly connected. We had a mutual love for sports, we made each other laugh, and we both played the saxophone. Both of us had been raised Catholic, but she had almost completely stopped going to Mass when I first met her. After we started dating, she began attending Mass with me each weekend. I loved how we talked about our faith together. I especially enjoyed seeing her become part of a local band after graduation. Our relationship was not without its flaws, and we certainly had our arguments, but we always worked things out. This led to our marriage in November of 2005.

By May, after only six months of marriage, I knew our relationship was in trouble. I saw the trouble began with alcohol. It was an issue our relationship faced before our marriage. At one point, my wife had given it up for a few weeks to prove to me she could go without it. However, it became a problem again and quickly progressed to drugs. I believed I was a coward because I stayed quiet on the issue too long. When I finally said something, it was too late. My wife abruptly stopped attending church. We became very distant from each other. The aching in my heart was ever present.

I was too ashamed to ask for outside help. Instead, I tried to be a better husband. I cleaned the house, mowed the lawn, cooked dinner, and did the laundry. I thought it would give us more time to be together. I told her I loved her every day. I even tried to show my support for her musical interests by attempting to help her book an event to play. Nothing worked. The distance between us continued to separate us from each other.

One night while sitting on the couch together, she told me she was thinking about a divorce. When I asked her if she would be open to marriage counseling, her response crushed me. She completely unloaded on me with statements that I imagined she had been holding in for some time. She told me that she was already in love with another man. I had suspected the person she was in love with, but to hear her say it broke my heart. She told me that she never took her faith or our wedding vows seriously. I stared blankly at my wife, wondering who I was talking to. I had no verbal response. I knew things were over by the look in her eyes. My calm demeanor fell apart when I nearly broke my hand as I punched a wall on my way out of the room.

For days, we avoided each other. I knew she wanted nothing to do with me. I did my best to make plans for how I could somehow save our marriage. There was no time to put those plans into place as I received a call only days later. It was a call no son ever wants to receive. My mother’s liver was failing. She had been fighting cancer for five years, and her battle was about to come to an end. I flew home immediately to New Jersey to be with my family for her final days. I made it back there in time to pray with her. She said goodbye to each of us and told us she would be waiting for us in heaven.

I could not handle watching my mom slowly fade away in our living room over the final five days. I tried to see her in brief visits throughout day. I also tried to hold it together but would lose it as I drove around town, making all the preparations for her funeral. I secured her final resting place and made the arrangements for the wake. I could not stop the tears from streaming down my face as I picked out her casket. I was close to my mom, and it was excruciating to watch her die. I finally went into the living room one night and told her everything on my heart, even though I did not know if she could hear me. I told her how much I loved her and thanked her for being such a great example. I then gave her a kiss on the forehead and went upstairs to bed. I prayed that the Lord would take her so she could finally be in peace. Before I awoke on Sunday morning, she died as my dad finished praying the rosary with her one last time. I heard his slow, heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. I knew she was gone.

The following days were numbing. My siblings and I gave the eulogy. My wife came to the wake but was so cold to me and barely said hello. It made the day even more unbearable. I carried my mom’s casket at the funeral and then finally said goodbye. On the night of the funeral, I talked to my wife over the phone. She told me that when I came home, she would be going through with the divorce.

I got on the plane the next day and headed back to our house. It was my hope she would have a change of heart, but that thought was far too optimistic. Within two weeks, there was a separation agreement drawn up, and I was out of the house. She told me I would be hearing from her lawyer about the divorce.

I could barely take care of myself. The feeling of sadness was so deep that it overwhelmed even my appetite. I often went the entire day without eating anything. I found a nearly finished apartment still under construction and put a deposit down on it. However, the landlord continued to tell me it would be ready the following week from the moment I met him—it never was ready to move in during the two months I waited. I had no energy to find another place and was worried about spending the money I had in case my wife came after me financially. As such, I spent the nights in my car. During the weekend, I would slide into the back row in church. I sat there, feeling incredibly lonely. I believed God was somewhere in my personal disaster. I prayed that I could see him anywhere within the troubles of my life. As hard as I tried, I did not see God in my life at the time. I held on to my faith for dear life as everything around me continued to come crashing down.

Eventually, some of my coworkers noticed I was in rough shape and let me stay on their couches while I figured things out. They were so kind to me during a time when my entire world was falling apart. Sometimes I was so ashamed of the situation that I would tell them I had a place to stay when I really did not. I was miserable and felt even worse for having such a bad attitude about life around such great people. This is how I ended up in my car for yet another cold night.

Since I could not sleep and was exhausted from repeating the recent events of my life in my mind, I decided to pray. I had so often asked God for things I thought I needed. It took a complete collapse of my life to bring me to the point of asking the Lord to place me where he wanted me to be. I meant it with all my heart. I desperately wanted to hear an answer to the prayer—I felt I had nothing else to live for but that answer.

CHAPTER TWO

Do not pray for easy lives. Pray to be stronger men.

Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers, pray for powers equal to your task.

Phillips Brooks

I continued living through my daily battle while awaiting an answer to my prayer. I heard it loud and clear late in December when the landlord told me again that it would be much longer than he anticipated before the apartment would be completed. I told him I wanted my money back, and he obliged. I called my sister Kristina who was living in Alexandria, Virginia. She had a two-bedroom condo, and I asked if I could stay with her while I tried to piece my life back together. We had always been close, and she told me to move as soon as possible. After speaking with my employer, I was able to secure a transfer to an office in Alexandria. Things were coming together perfectly, and I felt as if the Lord’s fingerprints were all over it.

I moved just after New Year’s Day in 2007. I was so excited to see my sister after my long drive. It was priceless to be around family after the events of the previous few months. I was still very sad but already felt much better than at any moment since our mother had passed away. Kristina had a plan for me. She took me to sign up for a gym membership before driving me to the outskirts of Washington DC to go for a run.

I had been a runner in high school and had even run a marathon my senior year of college. However, my legs were very rusty. In the prior two years, I had run only a few times. I received a six-mile tour of DC on foot that day. My troubles were soon forgotten as I struggled for every step. At one point during the run, I prayed for strength because I did not think I would make it back to the car. I somehow finished the run and felt stronger for sticking it out during the times when my body wanted to quit. I thought that if I could get through the physical struggle of running, then perhaps I could also make it through the struggles of my life.

Instead of allowing the pain from running to act as a deterrent, I decided to embrace it. I ran through the heartache of the divorce. I ran through the difficulty of the annulment process. I did not run with music but rather prayed as I ran. Prayer was how I made it through both my runs and the frustrations of my life. I eventually tackled a marathon in 2008—something I had sworn to never do again after my first marathon four years earlier. I trained hard for it and raced with a purpose. The marathon was completed in memory of my mother, as I had raised money for cancer research during the months of training. Finishing that marathon changed my life. I did not race for myself but rather for my mother and anyone else who had to face cancer. The feeling was so powerful that upon crossing the finish line, my first thought was that I wanted to do more. The idea entered my mind that it would be awesome to run across America one day to bring attention to a cause. I knew it sounded crazy, but I simply filed it in my mind as something to consider in the future.

CHAPTER THREE

We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.

Martin Luther King Jr.

Ever since I first asked God to place me where I was needed, I had noticed yearnings in my heart to continue praying in that manner. The first prayer of that nature was a desperate cry for help in the middle of the night at a church parking lot. It was a catalyst for a stronger prayer life. I believed God had a plan for me, and I simply needed to follow the yearnings he placed in my heart. I desired to be close to the Lord and to follow his will. That is why I decided to change my life in the summer of 2008.

My job in the insurance business was going very well, and I loved my coworkers. However, I had entered the field to simply earn a living. During one of my weekend long runs, I felt a strong calling to leave my job. After more prayer and discernment, I followed my heart and resigned from my job to work as a camp counselor for the summer. Working with kids for two months was awesome, and I loved every minute of it. When the camp ended, the director told me that I should be a teacher or enter a field where I could work with children.

I made great friends at the camp and was sad to leave it behind. I was also nervous because I did not have another job lined up. Upon my arrival back in Virginia, I decided to start looking for a job as soon as I ran a race with my siblings. My brother Dave had moved to Alexandria over the summer, so the three of us were all together in one city. It was just two days after I returned home when Kristina, Dave, and I headed out to pick up our packets for the race. I had woken up that morning with a pain in my chest area but dismissed it as a phantom ache. However, when I tried jogging across the street as we made our way to the packet pickup, I doubled over in pain. I knew something was not right.

My siblings took me to a nearby hospital, where I learned that my left lung had collapsed. The doctors cut into my side and reinflated my lung, but I had to stay overnight. I was upset I had to miss the race but was thankful to be in relatively good shape despite some lingering pain. I was not feeling great as I went for a follow-up visit a few days later. After taking an x-ray, I understood why I had not felt better. My lung had collapsed again. I was sent into surgery immediately, where they removed part of my lung and attached the rest of it to my chest cavity. I came out of surgery in a great deal of pain and spent the following week in intensive care as I recovered.

I received so many messages of encouragement and welcomed many visitors as well. My dad flew up from Florida, my sister and brother came to see me, and my former coworker Matt even showed up with pizza one day. I was happy to have so much support, but inside I was still trying to figure out my life. One of the nights in intensive care, my nurse asked me why I looked so sad. I told her that I was tired of seeing my dreams and hopes come crashing down.

I was very frustrated with the situation because I was unemployed, was in pain, and had missed out on racing after a summer of hard training. My prayers sounded more like begging in the days and weeks after the surgery. I yearned for a purpose in life. Eventually, I told the Lord once again to make my life an instrument of his peace. I no longer cared about my personal dreams. I felt that I was chasing my own ideas of success. Too often I was praying for God to make things in my life about my will. However, when Jesus taught us to pray, he instructed us to pray that God’s will be done. I thought about this for some time and decided that I needed to pray to God for graces that would help me conform to his will. Even though I had recently made choices to detach myself from the world, it was not until this moment that I completely turned everything over to the Lord. I wanted God to use my life to display his grace and love. Once I made that prayer from my heart, my life began to change—drastically. God answered my prayer—and it turned out his plans for me were greater than any dreams of my own.

CHAPTER FOUR

How you think when you lose determines how long it will be until you win.

G. K. Chesterton

As the weeks after the surgery progressed, the incisions began to heal. I was still in pain, but I felt the urge to get out and walk. My doctor said I would eventually be able to run again, but that promise seemed a long way off as I stepped out the door to go for a walk. I mapped out a two-mile loop from my sister’s condo and took those first painful steps. It was difficult not to feel defeated. I prayed for strength because it was clear that even a short distance was going to be a battle. My chest was tight, and it felt as though my body was forcing me to hunch forward. I had to stop a number of times to catch my breath and allow the pain to subside. After nearly forty minutes of walking, I finally returned to my starting point and collapsed on the floor. I was exhausted but was proud of myself for not giving up.

My goal was to get slightly faster each day. I pushed myself very hard and always returned home completely spent. It was extremely difficult, but I improved gradually and started to jog parts of the loop. Within two weeks, I was able to run the entire way. Each run of the loop was an all-out effort. I thought my days of running quickly were surely over but found great satisfaction in giving everything I had every day. I thanked God to be healthy enough to still be active. I realized life was a beautiful blessing, and I owed everything to the Lord.

Running was difficult, but it was the high point of each day as I continued to recover. My pace began to improve, but I kept all my runs under five miles for the next five weeks. The confidence I gained made me feel like I could do anything. I often prayed to God for direction in life during those runs. Almost as if God was sending me a direct answer, I felt called to do two specific things with my life.

I explained the callings to my family as something I believed I was supposed to do. The first yearning in my heart was to go after something big athletically. My mind drifted toward another marathon, but it did not feel quite right. I remembered hearing of some endurance runners who participated in one-hundred-mile ultra marathons. For some reason, my heart leaped with excitement. My legs had difficulty at the time running less than five miles, and I had only run two marathons in my life. The thought of running nearly four marathons in a row scared me very much. However, I believed it was something I was supposed to do. I found a one hundred miler on the weekend of my birthday—less than four months away. I started planning an intense training schedule and signed up for the race in mid-October.

The second calling I felt was to find a job I would enjoy as opposed to searching for one that paid well. Without hesitation, I started looking for a job in the running industry. I was fortunate to find a part-time job with Potomac River Running, a family-owned running store in the Washington DC area. The owners treated me like family from the start, and I made quick friends with the other employees at the store. It was an amazing feeling to actually love my job.

I also worked part-time for the Advancement Office at the Dominican House of Studies in Washington DC. Since it was located across the street from Catholic University, I was able to attend daily Mass at the crypt in the basilica. I felt like God was drawing me closer to him. While I did not know what the Lord had in store for me, I believed I was on his path. For the first time in over a year, I felt peace in my heart.

During the autumn season, I also moved into an apartment with my brother. It was located directly next to a running trail. I pounded out the miles during the limited amount of my free time. I had to break down so many mental and physical barriers during those months of training. Every time I felt as though I could go no further, I prayed. Prayer got me through a marathon distance training run in the beginning of November. It helped me conquer a thirty-mile training run on a cold and windy night in mid-November. I had a leg injury that kept my miles down during the winter, but I came back with a personal best time in a January marathon. One week later, I prayed my way through a thirty-eight-mile run, which was the furthest I had ever run. I then began to lower my mileage to prepare for the February race.

I traveled down to Texas for the race of my life. My stomach was in knots as I stood at the starting line. Some people had told me I would not be able to finish. I was only months removed from my lung incident, and my longest training run was only a little more than a third of the overall race distance. I said a quick prayer before it began. I asked the Lord to help me make it through because I did not think I could do it on my own. The reason I was at the starting line was because of my belief that for some reason, God wanted me there. It was a huge leap of faith, but I trusted in God. Suddenly, we were running on the dark trail. My battle was under way.

The race was brutal. I ran when I could and walked when I could not run. My goal was to finish before the thirty-hour cutoff. I fought pains, exhaustion, and failing muscles along the way. However, I kept my eyes on the finish and finally crossed the finish after twenty-eight grueling hours. Because of the date of the race and running overnight, I actually finished a year older than when I had begun. I turned twenty-six years old during the race but felt as though I had aged in wisdom beyond my years. My thought before the race was that I could do anything, as long as God was at my side. After finishing, I knew it was true.

I returned to Virginia feeling extremely proud of myself. I longed to share my feeling of accomplishment through the sport of running with others. Within six months after finishing the race, I was managing one of the running store location full time. Each day was awesome and a new experience. I loved helping people realize their goals, and each person I helped had a unique story as to why he or she was running. By the time autumn came around, I was coaching over thirty novice runners for a half-marathon through a charity program. I was so happy I could run the race with them in December. It was priceless to see the joy on the faces of my runners when they realized they were going to finish. It brought joy to my heart, knowing they had attained their goals.

The experience of running with the people I trained was so inspiring. I watched many of them overcome personal obstacles to reach the finish line. I was so invigorated by the experience that I decided to go for a twenty-one-mile run after returning home from the race. It felt great.

After my first ultra, I thought I was done with long races. However, I felt a restlessness in my life. The thought of running a one-hundred-mile race a second time was exciting and still scary. The same race I ran previous year was less than three months away. I knew it sounded odd, but it felt like I was supposed to run it again. I trained as hard as I could in those few months. I put in a forty-miler in December and a thirty-seven-miler in January. By the time February came along, I was beyond excited for the race. It was another difficult race, but I was healthier and very confident. My coworker, Joan,