Running for My Life
Despite no background of any kind doing it competitively, running has become a big part of my self-care routine. It is no secret to those who know me that athletics have never been my friend. In fact, I went so far as to fulfill my high school physical education credits by way of being the yearbook editor and manager. I won’t be qualifying for the Boston Marathon or breaking 400-meter dash records. I average about 6 miles per hour, which is perfectly fine by me. I am what you might call a “treadmill trotter,” with great affection for our gym’s extra-large industrial fan up above, whose spinning blades so unfailingly push lovely, cool air in my direction. Hey, the details matter and proper fan placement is a game-changer when working out, let me tell you. During sheltering-in-place earlier this spring, I missed running dearly but had to do something and so adapted to following various kickboxing and HIIT videos at home. For me, running has grown into a safe space, a kind of mental release, more than mere exercise to stay healthy or shed pounds. It is where, at least for a little while, I can empty the day’s tension and stress, and process my feelings.
An ESPN story first inspired my interest in running. It was about Julie Moss, a triathlete who in 1982 participated in her first Ironman for her college thesis. Without being an athlete or even an overly competitive person at the time, she swam 2.4 miles and biked 112 miles, ending with a marathon. Who does that? Evidentially, Julie does. While none of that is my aim, hearing about her triumph make me think about how I might challenge myself. Early-on in my running attempts, I stumbled around, with fits and starts, huffing and puffing with more walking than actual running. I am sure that my form was not great. But now I know that this is standard fare when you try something new. Disorientation and frustration are real. You don’t truly understand how to possibly chart a way forward until you dive in, and discipline yourself enough to consistently keep doing it. Even after having built my endurance over several years, there are still days when my legs feel crazy heavy. It’s like I am a robot running out of steam in a Transformer movie, trying to command my body to cooperate. There are times when I want to quit in the middle of a run or not even get up for the gym. And that is okay. While helpful and transformative for me, running isn’t a life or death matter, so I give myself room to take breaks as needed. Staying in bed sometimes isn’t a sin or anything.
But when I do make it to workout, I am often motivated by the lyrics of a favorite song and even more often I find myself reflecting on how true it is that, as they say, ‘you never regret working out once you it is over.’ When none of that works, though, I am adamant about exchanging negative self-talk for Hebrews 12:1-3, where the writer offers a beautiful challenge:
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance toward what God has for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.
Accepting discomfort is a crucial ingredient of life. If you ever want to move forward in anything, you must learn to constantly adjust and focus. Each time my thoughts shift from my own ramblings about this or that to what God has already said about me or the world, I gain perspective, and that serves as fuel, in the form of strength and encouragement, needed to keep fighting the good fight. Knowing of my flaws and temptation toward skepticism, I am filled with gratitude for how God provides a ton of examples of people through biblical history—weak and frail like me—who depended on His supernatural power to accomplish the impossible. For example, by no fault of his own, Daniel found himself far away from his family in the land of Babylon. Despite extreme pressure to conform to an indulgently pagan lifestyle, he rejected any compromise to his faith and at his own peril resisted bowing to the dominant culture.
I don’t pretend to know how long my body will allow me to run. At any moment, something could transpire that makes it impossible, unsafe, or unlikely for me to continue pushing myself in the way I am accustomed. And if so, I would need to brainstorm other avenues to get my endorphins going. Nevertheless, come what may, I am determined to “keep running toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:14) I will no longer accept being a fearful person, but instead will embrace, in the words of the late John Lewis, “good trouble” suffered for the purposes of Jesus. (Matthew 10:22) I will walk, run, crawl, and even stand still in victory as God prompts me, to serve others and leave self-indulgence behind.
Ultra-marathoner Scott Jerek rightly points out in his book, Eat and Run: My Unlikely Journey to Ultramarathon Greatness, that, “Life is not a race. Neither is an ultramarathon.” There is no finish line. As a Christ-follower, I am being renewed daily. By contrast, regardless of the grand investments I may make to fuel and refine my body, it is wasting away and will one day see its ruin. That is how the cookie crumbles, yes, but death only ends life on this earth. My spiritual life is not limited to the breath in my lungs, blood in veins, or activity of my brain. “Multitudes who sleep in the dust of the earth will awake: some to everlasting life, others to shame and everlasting contempt.” (Daniel 12:2) I will continue running until I can no longer because in the end, after everything is said and done, eternal life with Jesus is the prize I never had to earn.