Supporting Each Other

In our town, there is a high school P.E. coach named Paul who I have encountered on several occasions. The first time was earlier this summer when I met him and his adult son Jakob atop a steep hill in our area that is popular with runners and mountain bikers.

As the school year dawned, I saw him again regularly at a track where I go for training runs. He had his soccer team running drills there.

I don't know how many kids are on that team, maybe 20 or so. They come in all shapes, sizes, colors, and abilities. When they run laps, some finish far ahead of the others. Yet, as they finish they gather and call out encouragement to their teammates. "C'mon! You can do it! Great job! Way to go, man!"

Everyone on the team cheers until the last runner has finished his mile.

It's not that I would expect them to yell, "Move your butt, slow-poke!" but they could finish their mile and just talk to each other until the rest wrap it up. Instead, they stay involved with one another, lifting each one up, making sure everyone knows they are important to the team and worth cheering.

They are learning that cheering another person's success does not diminish their own.

What a valuable lesson to teach.

Way to go, Coach!

Pace e bene,
Fr. David+

So Many Lessons

So yesterday during my long run, I "bonked." This is when a runner physically runs out of reserves. Like a car running out of gas, just past mile 12 I began to sputter on my way to a stop. I didn't meet my expectation to run 17 miles, and I couldn't keep up with my friends who ran the rest of the remaining 5 miles. Of course, that parental loop was running through my head: "Don't be a quitter!" "Why can't you be like your friends?" Among other messages.

Did it matter that December 1, 2011, I had not run for 30 years, and here I was on March 17, 2012 churning out miles? No. Of course not. Ego says it's black or white, finish or don't finish. Just do it! Not try, do!

Maybe Yoda and Mr. Miyagi are not always right.

Wow! That feels blasphemous to say. Or maybe we need to keep it in context.

There is a wonderful line in the movie Top Gun: "Your ego is writing checks your body can't cash." I never really understood that line until I began running again. Now it's beginning to sink in.

I laughed with four friends tonight as I described my journey from bonk to blessing. There are so many gifts that have emerged that I know I am yet to find them all.

I thought of the recent hospital visits I had made as a priest, called in to somehow say the right thing to strangers who had emotionally and spiritually bonked because of their own or a loved one's illness, or a sudden death in the family. God's little reminder: "Remember, Fr. David, that this is what it feels like to run out of reserves."

I thought about what it means to be a disciple. It means to follow a discipline. In the Gospel according to Mark, chapter 9, verses 14-29, there is a story of a possessed boy who is brought to Jesus to be delivered from a demon. Jesus casts out the demon, healing the boy. His disciples go to Jesus privately, and ask, "Why couldn't we do that?" You see, just a bit earlier in chapter 6, Jesus had sent the disciples out two by two, and gave them authority over unclean spirits. So, why is it just a page or two later that they fail at what He told them to do?
Jesus responds, "This kind can only come out by prayer." Some manuscripts read, "...by prayer and fasting."

Jesus was telling His disciples they couldn't do it because they were not prepared for what was required to do it. Their earlier successes gave them confidence, but confidence alone is not sufficient.

To be a disciple is to follow a discipline. And in running, the disciple would ask, "Why couldn't I do that?" And the Coach may respond, "This distance requires patience and pacing."

Whatever the answer, the wise choice is to listen to it rather than to keep repeating the question to myself. For 28 hours. Nonstop.

Some people question Jesus' humanity and some His divinity. I believe without doubt that Jesus is fully human and fully divine. My problem is that sometimes I forget I am fully human. I expect to function in the realm of the divine, and while I am always in the presence of God, I do God a disservice when I ignore my humanity. It is a gift given to my soul.

One of my theological heroes, Fr. Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, wrote about the divinization of our diminishment. My simple application of his profound thought is that when we crack, when something gives and our ego develops a splintering gap, we have an opportunity for God to be allowed to enter more deeply into our consciousness and fill that part with divinity where before we had filled it with, or more accurately, buried it beneath, our ego.

Thus, when we are diminished, we are in a deep state of blessing. Those painful fissures are open doors through which we can choose to admit God. They are opportunities to abandon the artificial loneliness in which we choose to live, and instead live in The Divine Milieu. Simply put, to abandon our lonely estate in favor of living in a state of grace.

So I didn't run for 17 miles in a row. My coach told me "the day delivered to me what it was supposed to." Apparently it was supposed to deliver by the truckload, and it's all good.

Run Your Own Race

My friend Ray told me a story of driving with a wise friend riding along. When other drivers would do discourteous things, Ray would rant. His friend simply said, "Drive your own car, Ray."

Last Saturday, I did not meet my marathon-prep training goals. However, I did learn some important lessons! That is part of training, too: that sometimes the session is about what you learn, whether you met the goal or not.

I had been engaged in an easy run, sort of a trot, with some other runners who have been training a bit longer than I have. We were conversing as we went. Eventually, I ran out of steam and walked to recover.

My coach came alongside and suggested I finish the distance by doing brief "intervals," where there is a short, light run, followed by an equally distant walk in order to allow recovery time.

I did as he recommended, and I remembered what my stepgrandson Chet said to me: "Count your breaths, not your steps." So I began to focus on my breath and by doing so began to breathe more deeply. This rush of oygen fueled me back up, and my intervals became a little longer each time. I didn't want to push it, but I was curious to see how my improved breathing would affect my conditioning.

Today, I enjoyed a more successful training session. I met coach's goals for me, and my breathing was greatly improved and more efficient.

When Saturday rolls around, I will know that chatting with my fellow runners is probably not optimal for me, at least at this point. That is OK. They may be able to run and chat, but doing so causes me to breathe shallow breaths. I have learned I have to run my own race.

I am making some changes in my life to honor the ministry call I have heard. There are some things I need to drop, and I have resisted doing that because I don't want to let anyone else down or be a disappointment.

Fulfilling other people's expectations is a good way to stay busy, and what I have been doing is noble enough, but it is not related to my call, and the people I am called to serve go unserved as a result.

There will be some disappointed people when I withdraw from doing that which is not mine to do. Sorry! I truly am! I wish I could do it all! But, I have to run my own race.

The Holy Spirit comes alongside me to encourage and direct me, coaching my soul on its path the same way my running coach coaches my steps on the trail.

I do not run alone. None of us do. And yet, each of us is called to run our own race.