It’s one of the oldest sports of all time. And all I can do is associate it with pain.
It’s running. It’s racing. It’s the long-distant haul and the sprint to the finish line.
Let’s go ahead and get this out of the way. I do not like to run. To be clear, I’m grateful for the ability to run. I’m thankful to be able to run away from the yellow jacket’s nest that I disturbed while mowing, and I’m grateful that I was able to run away from a crashing wave at the beach when it sought to flood my cozy-dry shoes.
But running just to run?
Okay, I actually did run for a while. And I did not hate it, exactly. I grew to like being out in the morning by myself with our dog and feeling the exhilaration of physical activity. But then running began to hurt my body. My knees hurt. I developed plantar fasciitis. So, I bought new shoes and ran on different terrain. Yea, I still hurt. Do you know why? Because running hurts.
Our son, Zeb, doesn’t seem to mind the pain, though. Or if he does, he masks it well.
Zeb has always liked to run. He’s quite the competitor and genuinely wants to be pushed by other runners in a pick-up, playground contest, or most recently, to run cross country for Smoky Mountain High School.
We knew he was serious about running when he began to run without being asked to do so. I mean, really. Who does that? Apparently, Zeb does. Although Rebecca and I know very little about competitive running (we’re not entirely sure from whom he gets this interest), we’ve been thrilled to see Zeb excel at racing. As another parent told us at our first meet, cross country meets are pretty terrific. You show up, yell when the starting pistol inaugurates the race, and then chit-chat with other parents for 15 minutes. Then, you cheer for the runners as they cross the finish line around the 18-minute mark. Just like that, it’s over. Not too shabby.
If watching athletes run at a cross country meet is any indication, running is one-part exhilaration and one-part excruciation. We know why, of course. Running hurts. Athletes begin the race with nervous, twitchy energy and then often end the race in exhausted heaves, flops, and groans.
Even so, Zeb loves it. He competes against two things: other racers and himself. After he and his teammates catch their breaths, they all talk about their progress toward their PR (personal record).
As Zeb’s intensity makes clear, you’ve got to be driven to the finish line to compete on the cross-country course. The Apostle Paul affirms this sentiment by stating the obvious in his letter to the Church in Corinth:
“Do you not know that in a race the runners all compete, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win it. Athletes exercise self-control in all things; they do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable one. So I do not run aimlessly, nor do I box as though beating the air; but I punish my body and enslave it, so that after proclaiming to others I myself should not be disqualified.” (1 Corinthians 9:24-27)
Paul uses athletics to teach us a lesson about life and faith.
Namely, athletes are disciplined and practice self-restraint. They are reflective of their abilities and keenly aware of the law of cause and effect when it comes to how they treat their bodies and the impact that has on their performance. In other words, they do not eat a Big Mac right before taking their mark.
Athletes do not run aimlessly or without focus. Instead, they direct their energy in a way that will help them to achieve their goals.
Also, athletes know that they must master the impulse to quit when running begins to hurt. Paul calls this “punishing the body (to) enslave it.”
These are good lessons to learn as we seek to live a Christ-like race. We will achieve great things for God when we have clear intentions and faithfully work toward those goals. We will run a more compelling race in life when we practice healthy disciplines that strengthen and guard our spirit, mind, and body. We will finish the race when we understand that running means that we must endure pain and suffering and that it is worth it not to give up.
Just before Zeb’s first meet, I told him,
“I have nothing to offer you, buddy. I don’t know anything about running. I can’t tell you when to sprint, or how to pace yourself, or how much you should drink before the race. But here’s what I do know: If you’re going to run the race, you should win the (dang) race.’
Paul agrees: “Run in such a way that you may win it.”
That’s true in a life of faithful service, just as it is on the racecourse.