I’ve been a runner as far back as I can remember. Track & field as a little girl. Playing tag. Capture the flag. Elementary school Jog-athons. 5k’s. 10k’s. Years of soccer.
I nixed soccer in high school and took up running full time, year round. I’m not entirely sure why. Most people I know find running boring, difficult, repetitive. True, it is all those things. The challenge in running is cultivating a posture, mind and body that can deal with such discomfort. The pain never fades, the burning never subsides, the soreness, the knots, the cramps…those don’t really go away either. They weren’t intended to.
It’s not for everyone, I know. But it’s probably one of the few things in this world all people can do. You don’t need much. Land and legs and a pulse. The rest is internal. The rest is heart.
My cross country coach used to talk to us about angels when we ran. He used to tell us that each one of us had an angel on our shoulder, spurring us on. He even bought us little angel pins to stick to our uniform during our races as a tangible reminder. I’m not sure what his beliefs were, but it became so evident to me that my spirit has 100 times the strength and staying power of my muscle. I’d run a race and think of the pain in my legs and in my lungs; only to be reminded of the little angel on my shoulder. I’d shift from body ache to divine thought.
I think of how our body follows our mind. We’re such psychosomatic human beings. Everything we do and don’t do with our body affects our soul and vice versa.
So many people get caught up in the vanity of it all. Running and working out to look good. To feel confident. To appear strong. They find their identity in it. They are praised in it. If they are hurt or injured, their hope falters. They are discouraged. I get that. But we must re-orient our thoughts. It’s not about us.
But I don’t run for vanity. I don’t run to look good. I don’t push myself because I have to prove something—to me or anyone else. I run because it does something to my soul. It frees it. It refines it. Our bodies do something in pain. They do something crazy when we push it to a limit…and then push it harder. It creates strength of mind, a discipline, and a courage, that only those who have experienced it can fully understand.
It then permeates throughout my entire life. The discipline in processing through physical pain, produces a heart that can process through mental pain. Getting up early in the mornings, maintaining a routine to face the hurt and the sweat. It goes far beyond the tangible. People who workout to simply look good or boast about it are missing the point entirely.
If you stop because it hurts. If you quit because you no longer feel like it. If you eat unhealthy because it’s pleasurable. If you show up late because you’re lazy….
Then you are only running on one engine. You’re running in flesh and flesh alone.
Flesh and spirit. There is serious friction between them. They can beat each other up if you aren’t careful. Or, one can lead the other. One is definitely stronger. The question is…which one do you follow.
Passing thresholds and going through pain is an uncomfortable place. We all know character doesn’t grow in comfort. Some may still think I’m crazy for believing that pushing our bodies, in a healthy fashion, can actually produce a heart and spirit in us that grows stronger because of it. But it’s true; it just is. If you don’t believe that, then you quit before you found out. Or you’ve never tried.
This goes far beyond physical boundaries. We aren’t talking about miles on land anymore; we’re talking about miles in our heart. We aren’t talking about the sweat of our faces anymore; we’re talking about the sweat of our souls.
Do you have the courage to voluntarily put yourself through that kind of struggle? Too afraid to start? Too afraid you won’t finish? Too afraid of the pain? Too afraid you think you “want” it, but really don’t? Your ideal self goes, “yeah.” And your real self goes, “hell no.” Good questions. For those questions are the beginning frictions of flesh versus spirit.
I nixed soccer in high school and took up running full time, year round. I’m not entirely sure why. Most people I know find running boring, difficult, repetitive. True, it is all those things. The challenge in running is cultivating a posture, mind and body that can deal with such discomfort. The pain never fades, the burning never subsides, the soreness, the knots, the cramps…those don’t really go away either. They weren’t intended to.
It’s not for everyone, I know. But it’s probably one of the few things in this world all people can do. You don’t need much. Land and legs and a pulse. The rest is internal. The rest is heart.
My cross country coach used to talk to us about angels when we ran. He used to tell us that each one of us had an angel on our shoulder, spurring us on. He even bought us little angel pins to stick to our uniform during our races as a tangible reminder. I’m not sure what his beliefs were, but it became so evident to me that my spirit has 100 times the strength and staying power of my muscle. I’d run a race and think of the pain in my legs and in my lungs; only to be reminded of the little angel on my shoulder. I’d shift from body ache to divine thought.
I think of how our body follows our mind. We’re such psychosomatic human beings. Everything we do and don’t do with our body affects our soul and vice versa.
So many people get caught up in the vanity of it all. Running and working out to look good. To feel confident. To appear strong. They find their identity in it. They are praised in it. If they are hurt or injured, their hope falters. They are discouraged. I get that. But we must re-orient our thoughts. It’s not about us.
But I don’t run for vanity. I don’t run to look good. I don’t push myself because I have to prove something—to me or anyone else. I run because it does something to my soul. It frees it. It refines it. Our bodies do something in pain. They do something crazy when we push it to a limit…and then push it harder. It creates strength of mind, a discipline, and a courage, that only those who have experienced it can fully understand.
It then permeates throughout my entire life. The discipline in processing through physical pain, produces a heart that can process through mental pain. Getting up early in the mornings, maintaining a routine to face the hurt and the sweat. It goes far beyond the tangible. People who workout to simply look good or boast about it are missing the point entirely.
If you stop because it hurts. If you quit because you no longer feel like it. If you eat unhealthy because it’s pleasurable. If you show up late because you’re lazy….
Then you are only running on one engine. You’re running in flesh and flesh alone.
Flesh and spirit. There is serious friction between them. They can beat each other up if you aren’t careful. Or, one can lead the other. One is definitely stronger. The question is…which one do you follow.
Passing thresholds and going through pain is an uncomfortable place. We all know character doesn’t grow in comfort. Some may still think I’m crazy for believing that pushing our bodies, in a healthy fashion, can actually produce a heart and spirit in us that grows stronger because of it. But it’s true; it just is. If you don’t believe that, then you quit before you found out. Or you’ve never tried.
This goes far beyond physical boundaries. We aren’t talking about miles on land anymore; we’re talking about miles in our heart. We aren’t talking about the sweat of our faces anymore; we’re talking about the sweat of our souls.
Do you have the courage to voluntarily put yourself through that kind of struggle? Too afraid to start? Too afraid you won’t finish? Too afraid of the pain? Too afraid you think you “want” it, but really don’t? Your ideal self goes, “yeah.” And your real self goes, “hell no.” Good questions. For those questions are the beginning frictions of flesh versus spirit.
1 comment:
Love this. Love you! You are an amazing inspiration to everyone around you. I needed to hear these words tonight : )
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