This morning I ran a 5k. My time was 40 minutes 47 seconds. It is faster than my last 5k, but not as fast as my first 5k (March 1, 2014 – 39 minutes 57 seconds with a port-a-potty break at the 2 mile point). To say the least, I am little miffed at myself. After all, I ran a half-marathon just six weeks ago. To rub salt in the wound, there was a 60+ year old who beat me by 45 seconds – and it was his first 5k!
Cathy has been super-supportive of me running. On the days I did not feel like going out, she would challenge me and ask me why I am not going out. She went out for my two 5k’s that I ran last year, and she was there for my half-marathon (it was 39 degrees and raining the entire time), and it was miserable for her. Today, though, she said to me, “You’re on your own.” She slept in instead of getting up and going out there to stand and wait on me to run. I don’t blame her.
My race was bad for several reasons. I started out too fast and burned myself out. The weather was hot and humid, with very thick air, and my asthma was kicking in overtime. I had not slept well the last two nights. Lot’s of good reasons, right? Frankly, sounds like a lot of excuses. Here’s the truth. Leading up to the half-marathon I was running 3-4 times per week, 3 milers each outing, and then a 6, 8, 10, 12 milers on Saturdays. Since the race, though, it has been a couple of 2 – 3 milers during the week and a 6 on Saturday. The real reason I did not do well today is because I have lost my fervor. I am not running as hard and often as I was just 3 months ago – in much more miserably cold conditions.
I should have known better. Learning to run is like living the life of faith. There are good days and bad days. There are days when it is easy to roll out of bed and hit the streets. But when it is raining outside, and that alarm goes off, you are tempted to just roll over and go back to sleep. That half-marathon was easy as long as it was downtown, with all of the people on the sidelines cheering. But when it turned south and went into the residential neighborhoods, it became much more difficult. It was all you. You’re on our own.
There are days when it is easy to act and respond like a Christian. It is particularly easy to be a Christian in church. When the music lifts, and the preacher inspires, it is natural to live in the glow of a Godly faith. But on Monday when you have to face another work-week, the alarm goes off, and you hit snooze. You do not want to face the week of stress, pain, and struggles.
But I wonder. What makes a better Christian? Is it spiritual sensitivity that moves in the heat of worship, or is it when you are sweating it out while beating the streets. Faith on Monday makes the worship meaningful, just like the rigorous training on the streets made me complete that half-marathon.
Paul wrote this. “All athletes are disciplined in their training. They do it to win a prize that will fade away, but we do it for an eternal prize. So I run with purpose in every step. I am not just shadowboxing. I discipline my body like an athlete, training it to do what it should. Otherwise, I fear that after preaching to others I myself might be disqualified.“ I Corinthians 9:25-27
Let me close with this thought. As I trained for that half-marathon, I latched onto this phrase. I don’t know how to attribute it because I don’t know where I got it. But here goes. “You do not know what you are capable because you have not yet done it.” So let’s apply that to faith. Do you truly believe the verse that says, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” So are you in training so that God can do something amazing through you? You’re on your own.