On the Track

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it.  1 Corinthians 9:24

...let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. Hebrews 12:1b-2a

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. 2 Timothy 4:7

Westmont Track

There are plenty of helpful comparisons between running a race and the life of faith. It's one of the ways that the idea of pilgrimage works so well: we are actually on the move. Work is involved. Lately, I have been thinking less of racing and more of putting one foot in front of the other. Sometimes that means ambling; but other times literally putting one foot in front of the other has seemed nearly impossible and painful. 

This morning I continued my physical therapy on the track over at the college. I do not need to go in for  PT appointments anymore, and that is because the rest of my recovery needs to be made through my faithful pursuit via exercises I have been given. I have not arrived (this is not the end, but it is the road...), even though to watch me walk you cannot tell which ankle was damaged. 

I have been doing a lot of walking for the past week and a half, getting ready for today: attempting some jogging. Just a bit. Running only the straightaways, not the long graceful curves at the ends which could put me off balance (that is yet to come). I tried to run in a balanced way, concentrating on the left ankle and treating it the same as the right even though it is not the same. If not for the the voice of authority (in this case, my physical therapist) assuring me that this is okay I would have quit. It did not feel right. As I continued, though, I parsed out what was wrong and it was not actually pain--only discomfort. It is certainly not right even though when I'm walking I may be the only person who can tell. Once I started jogging, the appearance of normalcy was much more difficult to maintain.

In this case, it's not all about appearances (even though I really would prefer that no one see me staggering/hopping/awkwardly trying to wrest strength from the weaker side). If I "baby" the injury, protecting it from the discomfort as much as possible, then it will not improve. And I am tempted to think think that it can't improve, not really, and to think that its status now is more or less how it has been and how it shall ever be. But that is not the case. The past 15 weeks are littered with Ebenezers: bearing weight. Driving a stick shift. Going from the prescribed toe raises while sitting down to doing them while standing on the weak leg alone (that last makes me feel a little like I'm flying).

But flying I am not around the track, at least not yet. I'm working through the mental gymnastics of parsing pain from discomfort. It seems that the weakness uses the same neural pathways to my brain to resist. The message is that running is wrong, damaging or impossible. I have it on authority that this is a lie.  In this case the struggle is not only possible but good: a strengthening and a movement toward growth, toward recovery of how I am supposed to be. 

Thus like so many before me, I'd like to try to use this sports metaphor to my enrichment. And when things seem wrong, painful or potentially damaging (like apologizing for real ugliness I have shown and been, for an example) I hope to hear the voice of the Authority that points through the discomfort toward flourishing rather than heeding the whisper of weakness that would carefully "call it a day."  

In the weight room of the YMCA in my hometown hangs a sign with Philippians 4:13: "I can do all things through him who strengthens me." It made me laugh a little back in the day, what with the context and out-of-contextness of it all. But today I am okay with it hanging there, so long as hanging in our minds is 2 Corinthians 12:9 (and not only Isaiah 40:31). I am slow to learn, and quick to shift attention; but I am hoping that here I may have found a helpful metaphor I can walk with for a while yet.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

2 Corinthians 12:9

...but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;
they shall mount up with wings like eagles;
they shall run and not be weary;
they shall walk and not faint.

Isaiah 40:31