Running For My Eternal Life

Since before I can remember, I have been obsessed with sports. As a youngster, I did what virtually every Canadian kid does: I played hockey and dreamt of playing in the NHL. That didn’t pan out, but I eventually fell in love with football and rugby. 

I was what you call a “husky” kid; you know the type—not “fat” in the colloquial sense but not a string bean like so many eight- and nine-year-olds. I hated long-distance running, and when we were forced to run cross-country, I remember hoping that I could be diagnosed with asthma so I could be exempt. I was naturally awful at distance running, and it felt like torture. If humans could be categorized into types of horses, I would qualify as a natural Clydesdale.

My parents always told me, when I was being teased by kids who were literally half my weight, that one day I would grow up to be big and strong, and it would all work out in the end.

Well, they were right. By middle school, I shot up a few inches and thinned out a bit, but I was still wider and heavier than my contemporaries. Body checking was permitted in hockey for kids 12 and up back then, and I reveled in throwing my body around. In high school, I thrived. 

Testosterone kicks in throughout adolescence, and I got a good dose of it earlier than most. The husky kid who used to be the brunt of jokes in elementary school was now the captain of the football team and a provincially-ranked recruit. There was no forced cross-country running in high school, and having a big bench press came with more social currency than a good mile time. 

I was able to excel in sports, playing at high levels through university and into my thirties, without ever making distance running a habit. Sure, in rugby there is a lot of running, but I played in the front row. For those unaware, front-rowers are the maniacs who make their best impression of dueling rams during mating season, locking their yokes and trying to compress each other’s spines. I still daydream about the scrum, and I miss it dearly…

In any event, yes, there is running, but for a big guy in rugby, you can get away with intervals and shorter bursts, whereas the more slender players have to be fit like soccer players.

Well, eventually my competitive sporting career came to an end, and the last few years have been a journey as far as exercise is concerned. I never fell out of love with weight lifting, but I realized last year that lifting wasn’t going to be enough. In addition, I had spent so many years playing intense sports, combined with the lifting, and I was eating the same way I ate in high school and university. When I stopped sports, that became a problem. I had spent so many years playing intense sports, combined with the lifting, and I was eating the same way I ate in high school and university. When I stopped sports, that became a problem.Tweet This

Like so many, I sit in front of a computer for much of the day, and I don’t have to do anything strenuous as part of my daily life. Sure, I chase around my toddlers, but that is about it.

Over a year ago, it hit me that I was over 35 and was edging toward—gasp—middle age. Suddenly, things like the strength of my heart, my lung capacity, and my body composition became much more important. Also, I became acutely aware that I needed to get better at fasting and temperance with food as part of my overall spiritual and moral life.

At a Third Order meeting, our chaplain explained to us that Thomas Aquinas showed how the virtue of fortitude is seen more in perseverance than in feats of strength. It makes sense because true strength of character will require sustained effort and not just bursts here and there. This made me reflect on my athletic background and assess what was lacking in my approach to fitness. Lifting heavy weight can be taxing, don’t get me wrong, but the stress is over quickly, and the heavier you go, the longer the rest period. 

I figured that since I loved weight lifting but hated running, I should probably run. I also figured that the short, bursting, intense nature of lifting probably had an effect on my character, which should be corrected or leveled out by the “low and slow” mentality of long-distance running. St. Paul’s words come to mind when he writes to Timothy that he has “finished [his] course,” meaning he finished his race. Now, we must assume that Paul is referring to the marathon, which would make sense given the Greek context, and there is nothing exceptional about finishing a short distance like the 100-meter dash. 

So, I took St. Paul’s advice and started running. And I was as bad as an adult as I was as a hyperventilating 8-year-old being forced to run cross-country. 

I started with a minute on and a minute off. Eventually, I could do more; and now I am obsessed and feel like I could run forever. I hated it in the beginning. And now I can’t get enough of it. 

There have been so many benefits in my spiritual life because of what is required to keep a running habit going.

For one, most of my runs are early in the morning before my family is awake, which means I am keener on sleeping better. Also, that time spent in the open air with no distractions—I rarely ever listen to anything while running—has become almost meditative. While I wouldn’t say it is a “religious experience” in the full sense, I can say that it is certainly calming and really clears my head, which makes prayer and spiritual reading more fruitful.

My relationship with food has changed as well. In addition, forcing myself to get out and run at 5:30 a.m. when it is minus-30 in January has proven to be a mortification that is hard to re-create. There have been some mornings where, a few minutes into the run, I am asking myself if I made the wrong decision because I can’t feel my toes, my face, or my fingers. But then it all works out once I warm up inside, and I find myself enjoying elements that I would never experience if I didn’t force myself to get outside.

Truly, adopting distance running as a habit, or even a way of life, has been one of the greatest decisions I have made. I am not just running for my life; I am running for my eternal life.