Running

As a veteran of the church scene, I am well steeped in the metaphors used to talk about things of God and the life of faith. One particular phrase that seems to have significant staying power suggests that following Jesus involves “walking in the footsteps of the master.”

For the longest time, I associated this phrase with the famed poem “Footprints In the Sand” as if Jesus only ever walked slowly – methodically – purposefully. But this, like many of my images of Jesus, is somewhat inaccurate.

The Jesus I read about in scripture is also a runner.

In Luke 15, Jesus tells the story of the prodigal son as a way of introducing people to the idea of how God pursues his children. The story ends with the father running to meet the errant son. Hardly the picture of a meandering God.

Even his followers appear to be more like Frontrunner 10K clinic members than slow moving couch potatoes. They ran to meet Jesus, they ran to the empty tomb, they ran to tell each other that Jesus was coming and ran to get ahead of the crowds and get the best seat in the closest sycamore tree. Even the soldier who offered the dying Christ some vinegar is reported to have run about trying to find the right stick and sponge.

The reason I have been mulling over this notion of Jesus and his followers as runners is that I too have become a runner.

It started simply as a desire to shed an extra pound or two and to stave off the genetic disposition to early death caused by cancer and heart disease.

That was three years, two half marathons, three 10Ks, two 8Ks and close to 800 kilometers ago.

Someone recently asked me why I run. It still has something to do with the health benefits. It also presents my wife and I a chance to spend scheduled time together in the middle of chaotic personal timetables.

But lately I have begun to think about what I have learned as a runner because the lessons have been many. And the more things I realize I have grasped during my fledgling running career, the more I see parallels between running and my spiritual life.

Lesson One: It is easier to run if your coach runs with you.
I have recently started another running clinic in preparation for an upcoming half marathon. But unlike previous clinics, I have noticed that this one is markedly different because our run leader/coach actually laces up his shoes and runs with us. Michael never asks us to do something that he is not prepared to do himself. He sweats with us. He runs laps of the track with us. He feels the same heat, experiences the same thirst, and gets the same blisters as the rest of us. The only difference between him and the rest of us is that he is there to lead…to be the example…to demonstrate proper technique, form and posture. He leads. We follow because he is wiser than us. We follow because he cares about our success. And we follow because he has earned our respect by being with us even though his sheer athleticism could have him competing with elite runners. Yet he remains with us…the slow, the awkward, the ones trying to become like him.

When it hurts and when there are still 8K left to go – most of it uphill – there is something profoundly comforting about looking towards the front of the pack of runners and seeing Michael – showing us by example what it means to endure and showing us the way home.

“The Word laced up a pair of Nikes and stepped onto the track to run laps with us.”

Lesson Two: Endurance is not instant.
When I started running my ego wanted to finish first every time. Sadly, my legs and lungs had other ideas. I quickly learned that cardio fitness is built over time. Each lap of the track, each series of tempo runs and each wind sprint contributes to an increased ability to perform at my body’s best. There is no single workout that will make me stronger, faster, or more agile. Instead, the benefits of each run build on the previous sweat-filled odessy that acclimatizes the body to working hard.

Getting strong is a process not an event.

This has been important as I consider faith in the early 21st century. We seek our instant gratification. We want good feelings, prosperity, acceptance and love instantly. We sometimes think that placing our faith in Jesus or joining a church will solve all the problems that ail us and that life will be blessed until the rapture.

That is until we encounter the next bump in the road.

The Bible has much to say about endurance and most of it is about enduring bad situations and hard things.

The power to endure does not materialize instantly. Rather, it is the byproduct of one workout at a time spread out over a lifetime. And of learning to trust that the training already accomplished will be enough to tackle the next incline.

Lesson Three: Slow and steady is better than fast and injured
Last night’s running clinic speaker is a kinesiologist and physiotherapist – very important functions for people who run. His point was simple – most people start out running too hard and too fast. And then they wonder why they get sidelined with injuries that not only damage their bodies, but often cripple the enthusiasm for running altogether.

I grew up in a faith tradition that stressed the radically transformed life. One minute you were a “poor, wretched and blind” sinner. But say a prayer and you were given the keys to the Kingdom, a robe of white and a crown of gold. There was little mention of the life or journey of faith. It was all about going out hard and fast - joining studies, choirs, worship teams, street theater troupes, and summer counselor programs. It was as though the life of faith became the life of frenzy. But people get tired when they go too hard too fast – and fatigue increases the chance of injury.

Frustration. Resentment. Bitterness. Pressure from within and without. Unrealistic expectations. Loss of confidence. Loss of vision. Loss of love. Depression. Walking away.

The antidote to injury is slow and steady. Always building, increasing, pushing…but in moderation and under the watch of a coach who is more interested in seeing us complete the race than flaming out too early.


Lesson Four: Running in a group produces better results than running alone.
Running can be a lonely thing. For a slower runner like me, the last 5K of a half-marathon often involve long stretches of only me, pavement, and the occasional roadside encourager who is packing up their lawn chair because the steady stream of runners has been reduced to a trickle of the weary.

Running alone is hard. There is nobody to pace against. There is nobody to motivate or encourage you. There is only the sound of heavy breaths, shoes scuffing on pavement, and U2 on the iPod trying to be convincing about it being a beautiful day.

But running with people is easier. There is a comradare shared among runners that involves recognizing the hard work of complete strangers – a wave of the hand, a tip of the running hat, an encouraging word. Running with others makes the road seem softer and the road home not so long. It makes the task less daunting as the self-talk focuses on “if they can do it…so can I.”

Running is like the life of faith in this way…although faith is a solitary thing, it is never meant to be done alone. Or as Jim Wallis (one of my favorite writers) summarizes – Faith is personal…but it is never private.

I wonder how many times the disciples wanted to give up. Step off the track, take off their shoes and head for the concession stand. I wonder if the times in between the mountaintops, the walking on water, and the mass feedings were punctuated by frustration, inadequacy, and fatigue. And if they were on their own odds are they might have drifted away back to their nets and flocks.

But experiencing things together – in a group – makes the impossible seem possible. It provides the motivation to see things through, the encouragement to endure through the hard times, and guarantees someone is there to share in the joy of hard fought accomplishments.

No wonder Jesus instituted the church. I think its because he knew the power of running clinics.

Daryl T

Coming Next...Lessons Five through Eight

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