Posts about the things I've learned while running

Quiet Miles

My soul, wait silently for God alone, for my expectation is from Him. Psalm 62:5

I’ve had a very quiet running season so far. Only one race. No speed records. No personal bests. Just miles. Seven this morning.
The only folks who know I’m out there are my husband and a few other runners. And the dogs that bark. Lots of dogs.

Some seasons in our Christian lives are that way. We do our quiet work in the background. We read and study. We pray.
Nothing flashy or remarkable. No new ministries. Just consistency.

Those quiet seasons can be very good things. Here are some things I’ve noticed happening during this quiet season.

I’ve built endurance. In February, four miles was long. Now, it’s an easy day. It’s during the quiet seasons that we build patience and endurance in our faith as we wait and watch for God’s next assignment. What seemed difficult before may be a little less challenging as we developed greater intimacy and dependence on Jesus.

I’ve lost weight. When I put in the miles, it’s a natural result. In the same way, if we put in the time and effort into growing our faith, the natural result will be shedding unhealthy ideas and attitudes that hold us back or hinder us completely.

I’ve developed a habit. I miss it when I don’t run. My day feels “off” and I feel guilty. It’s in the quiet times that we cultivate a habit of talking to God, hearing from Him, soaking in His presence. Skipping out on that time can throw off or whole day.

I also know what I still need to work on. I get really tired after about five miles, so I’ll be experimenting with snacks either the night before or before I leave the house. My pace is not where I’d like it to be, so I’ll be focusing on that too. Likewise, it’s in quiet times that Jesus can offer help with our weaknesses or encourage us with new visions and goals.

What things have you learned in the quiet seasons?

Faith Not Comfort

By Paula Wiseman

I haven’t written any running posts in a while because I haven’t run in a while. It’s been cold. Ridiculously, record-shatteringly cold. I’m not sure I remember things like air conditioning … and short sleeves … and grass. I may be exaggerating a little, but not much. But I digress.

This is how running happens for me. I run around 5 in the morning. Nobody is out, or if they are, they’re way too sleepy to notice me, or they’re busy with their own running. Perfect. I hate being cold so if it dips below 25 or 30, I don’t go out. I don’t like being wet either, so rain is a deal breaker. Oh, and treadmills make me dizzy. I don’t typically run on Saturdays, because that’s my husband’s day to run and I don’t want to go off and leave my kids asleep. I can’t use an mp3 player because I have to be able to hear killer dogs sneaking up behind me. And owls. Besides all that, I have to make sure I choose streets that are well-lit because except for about six weeks or so in the summer, it’s dark when I run.

It’s a wonder I ever get any miles logged, isn’t it? I will never be a great runner because I just do it for fun (and because exercise is good for me). If it’s not fun or satisfying, I’m not going to put the effort into it. Period.

Most of the time, I approach following Christ the very same way. I want it to be on my schedule, on my terms and at my convenience. I want it to be comfortable and satisfying without being painful and strenuous. I want to do enough to look and sound legit, especially when other followers are around.

That’s not what Christ called me to. And that’s not the call I answered.

Paul explains in Galatians 2:20, I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.

Following Christ means I need to live by faith, not by comfort. It means I need to actively choose faith over comfort. And it means there is a great gap between where I should be and where I am.

But He loved me and He gave Himself for me, so I can’t quit. Even for a month or two. Even if it’s cold out.

(I haven’t been totally inactive. I’ve got two days left on the 30-Day Ab Challenge, which means more muscles hurt than I realized I possessed and I am the worst sit-upper ever. I’ll be glad to run again.)

6 Lessons from the River Run

By Paula Wiseman

I’m not a very good runner. I’ll just say that up front. And I’m even worse at races than I am at running around in the mornings. This past Saturday, my husband and I ran the Evansville River Run. It’s a ten-mile race starting in Henderson, Kentucky, crossing the Ohio River bridge and finishing in Evansville, Indiana. Talk about a learning experience … And all of the lessons apply to the race I’m running in my Christian life.

1. You think you’re prepared…

Training runs are a whole different ballgame from a race. The course was hillier than I was used to. I overdressed. (That was a calculated risk. I hate, hate being cold.) Running by the highway is mentally fatiguing.

We often think that after a weekly church service, we’re prepared for whatever gets thrown at us, but we’re often surprised by circumstances. Situations often prove more challenging than we imagined and we discover that theory and life are two different things. We need to make sure we are relying on God in humility and not trusting ourselves.

2. I started strong and finished strong. The middle … not so much.

Through the first six miles I was on pace to do better than any of my training runs. Then reality struck. And by reality, I mean pain. Everything hurt except for my hair and my eyebrows. And my hair was close. I chose to ease off on my pace and finish well rather than risk a real injury. My last 400m was my fastest all day.

We usually start out really strong, really gung-ho for Jesus, but somewhere in the middle of things we run into some painful times. It is extremely important to back off and give yourself time to rest and heal so you can stay in the race and finish strong.

3. Having folks cheer you on is awesome.

I have no idea who most of them were but it was a little easier to run with some encouragement, especially from the little guy who high-fived me toward the end and my son and a really good friend near the finish.

We really underestimate the value of encouragement in the body of Christ. It can help prevent burning out, dropping out and falling out. Let’s resolve not to be so stingy with it.

4. Having someone come along beside to run with you is even awesome-r.

My husband finished forty minutes before I did, but he came back and met me at mile 9 and finished with me. I told him everything hurt. He reminded me that my pace wasn’t bad, that in twelve more minutes we’d be done, that the finish wasn’t nearly as far away as it looked, that he was proud of me … all kinds of good stuff.

We not only have fellow believers to come alongside us, but God Himself is right there in the person of the Holy Spirit offering guidance and encouragement.

5. The effects last way beyond the race.

The race was Saturday. It was Tuesday before I could walk down steps without turning sideways.

Make no mistake, the things we do in this life will have an impact on eternity.

6. Finishing is what counts.

Oh, sure the guy who won finished in less than half the time that I did, but you know what? I got the very same medal they got. All the finishers did.

There is coming a day when we will each cross a finish line a receive a reward. I haven’t seen it, but I’m pretty sure it’s a lot better than a medal.

Have you done something that stretched you? What lessons did you learn?

Trust the Training

By Paula Wiseman

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And my speech and my preaching were not with persuasive words of human wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, that your faith should not be in the wisdom of men but in the power of God. 1 Corinthians 2:4-5

I haven’t written any running posts in a while because I haven’t run in a while. The truth is, I’m a sissy. I don’t run when it’s cold and I hate the treadmill, so I take the winters off. I guess that works toward my ultimate goal of still running when I’m seventy (twenty-four years to go!) but it means a slow start in the spring, rebuilding mileage and speed. My November 5K times are two or three minutes faster than my March times.

Last year, I had hopes of running a half marathon later in the season. That’s thirteen miles. Three times I made it to ten miles. Now ten miles is nothing to sneeze at, but when I couldn’t make my goal times for ten miles, I didn’t sign up for the half.

In four weeks, I’m running a 10 mile race. Even though it’s spring. Even though the weather has been terribly uncooperative so far. Even though I’m starting to transition from “I can do this,” to “What was I thinking?” Even though it’s the very thing I failed at last summer.

Runners are fond of saying, “Trust the training.” In other words, you trust that the little things you’ve been doing everyday have adequately prepared you for race day. My husband even said after a recent six-mile run, “If you can do six, you can do ten.” I’m not so sure. I know how I felt at the end of six. He assured me that the training would kick in, and that I’m better prepared than I realize.

As believers, God will often put things on our hearts– goals, hopes, dreams, ministries– things we don’t feel prepared for, maybe that we feel totally inadequate for. Because of that, more often than not, we close the door. The opportunity passes and we ignore the tug inside until it fades away.

But those situations are the very ones that showcase God’s power and not our own abilities. Not only that, we see what God has been building in us all along. It’s up to us to trust the training, and ultimately the Trainer when He says we can handle ten, even if we think six is really pushing it.

Is there something you’ve felt God nudging you toward? Is it time to trust the training and the Trainer?

Overtaken

By Paula Wiseman

A couple of months ago I got to be the weak link on a triathlon team, thanks to my husband’s still-healing stress fracture. Jon did the hard parts, the swimming and the biking, and my job was to run the 5K. Because Jon is a strong swimmer, and the race used a delayed start, I got to take off on the run portion smack in the middle of the top athletes. For a brief moment, I was ahead of some of the fastest runners in the community. In fact, I wish I had pictures of myself… leading… Then reality set in, and I think seven or ten of them passed me before I finished.

Each time it happened the same way. I heard the footfalls behind me. Then came the sense that someone was close. This was followed by a momentary delusion that maybe I could speed up and stay ahead. Of course, this yielded to the inevitable. “Good job,” they said as they passed, and they meant it. Speedy runners are a nice bunch.

In Deuteronomy 28, Moses is winding down his last instructions and admonitions for the nation of Israel and in verse 2, he says, “And all these blessings shall come upon you and overtake you, because you obey the voice of the Lord your God.”

I like that image. God always blesses obedience, but He doesn’t just throw blessings out there and if we’re lucky we’ll run into them. No, He makes sure they catch us.

Think of it. All these blessings.

We can’t outrun them or get away from them. He promises they will overtake us.

Running on the Beach

By Paula Wiseman

One day last week, while we were still on vacation, Jon and I got up early to go for a run on the beach. He’s still recovering from a stress fracture so my speed and distance suited him just fine. So off we went. Barefoot. In the sand.

Here’s what I know about running on the beach. It. Is. Hard. My calves hurt for three days.

But there was something else I noticed, too. On the sand, you leave an unmistakable set of footprints. Your stride length and how you orient your toes are obvious. And in the wet sand, the impressions are deep. That morning, there were a few spots where, because of the way the sand banked and the how the tide was coming in, I was forced to run in Jon’s tracks. It was nearly impossible. He takes two steps to my three or three and a half. His foot is bigger. He turns his feet out more. It was awful. I had to slow down even more, and watch my feet to keep from stumbling or turning an ankle. I did much better when I could make my own tracks.

I think we run into to similar problems in our Christian race when we try to run in another believer’s tracks. This doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have mentors, or examples, because we absolutely should. However, we also need to recognize and remember that God calls us as individuals, each with a unique role to play in His kingdom work.

In the last chapter of John’s gospel, Peter has a brief but intense conversation with Jesus about his future. Jesus doesn’t soften the details, but Peter is still committed. In verses 20-21 though, “Peter, turning around, saw the disciple whom Jesus loved following them … So Peter seeing him said to Jesus, “Lord, and what about this man?”

See, even when we have a clear idea of our purpose, our mission, our calling, it’s easy to look around, see how someone else is running and begin to question things. Maybe I should be doing what they’re doing. Maybe their tracks are the right tracks. Maybe I should be running in their tracks. It’s especially tempting if someone else has more perceived success than we do.

However, Jesus said in verse 22 “If I want him to remain until I come, what is that to you? You follow Me!”

Don’t worry about John. Just be Peter, and do what I have for you to do. In a way, Jesus said, “Run in your own tracks.”

Where is your race taking you? Is it tempting to slide over into another set of tracks?