Strict Training

I was on a run the other day in Eagle Creek Park in Indy -- chugging my way up some fairly minor hills and thinking how out of shape I am for me and I started waxing philosophical about ups and downs in life and thinking about how equally out of shape I am for those. As most good-sized hills I run do, it got me thinking about a two-mile hill I had the privilege to run -- yes, privilege!

Almost two-and-a-half years ago now, I ran the Big Sur International Marathon. Hands down, one of the best experiences of my life. Talk about a runner's high -- perfect weather, running on the edge of the western world on scenic highway one. Barely an inch of the course that wasn't breathtakingly beautiful.

Bussed from Monterey, CA to Big Sur -- we ran from there to Caramel. It was a course of pretty minor rolling hills until you reach mile 10 and begin a two-mile ascent to the 12 mile marker -- Hurricane Point. Running a two-mile hill is hard work. You have to put one foot in front of the other and slowly ascend for two miles. I can't begin to describe the sensation of reaching that peak, though -- the sensation of finishing such a long climb and then turning around, seeing where you've come from and the spectacular view from the top. It's easy to be overwhelmed with thankfulness up there.

At the top, you wish you could stay there forever -- just soaking it in. But, you know that experience has to end and you slowly turn and start the descent getting further away from the waterfed cliffs and back toward the town.

I've reached too few peaks in my life and lived in the plains. But that's because I haven't put in the strict training necessary to make the climb that gets me to the top and spectacular views. You may not be on the top for that long -- but the view from the top keeps you going in the mundane and valleys of life.

Not too long ago, I experienced a bit of a valley. I got challenged by one of my biggest fears and I wasn't a worthy opponent. I wasn't ready because I hadn't put in the strict training necessary to get me smoothly through it. I got a bit beat up. Thankfully, the valley wasn't as big or as long as it could've been, but it was enough to shake me. When things get better it's easy to take things for granted again. To just go on living in the plains again and hope another valley doesn't come. But, it will. And my less than smooth run that day in the park in Indy reminded again that I need to go into strict training -- both physically and spiritually.

I'm a semi-disciplined person. I certainly go through spurts. And even when I am disciplined it's not to the level I should be. It's the kind of disciplined that doesn't require a 100% investment. It's a leaning back on my runs and just running the distance rather than putting forth the effort to run fast and qualify for Boston (a long, unreached goal of mine) -- or running to my full potential at all. It's the picking up the Bible, a devotional or book and reading without responding and communing with my Creator. It's the popcorn prayers through the day rather than the focused prayer time.

In 1 Corinthians 9: 24-27, Paul writes, "Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize."

This is what I believe. So, let the strict training begin. And continue.