Run Fast

I love running. I love the burn I get in my lungs after a good run.
I love the quiet solitude of running, even and especially when I'm
running in the midst of the hustle and bustle of city life. I love
the achiness in my body the next morning. I love running through the
PENN campus, passing by a battleship, or circling Independence Hall.
I love how running clears my head when I'm feeling foggy.

But even good things can become idols. Even good things should be
abstained from for a season, so that we don't mistake worshipping good
gifts with worshipping the Giver. Even good things can and should be
fasted from every so often.

I called this to mind on my run yesterday morning. I had tweaked my
knee about a month ago. It was so subtle I can't even remember when
or how it happened. All I know is that on long runs, by the end my
knee would start to hurt a bit. Then I got sick earlier this month,
so I was off my legs for a spell. Earlier this week, when I decided
to hit the road for my first run in about a week and a half, I thought
to myself that the time off because of illness was a good thing, since
it gave my knee time to heal up.

Only it didn't. My knee was throbbing by halfway through. I gutted
through that run, but the next day I had trouble going up and down
stairs. The day after, I could do it but with much effort. And the
day after that, it was feeling a little better. So yesterday, I
decided to give the knee another go.

I made it about two miles before I called it off, lest I worsen it. I
was bummed to have to cut short my run, worried about how long I'd
have to rest my legs this time, anxious that perhaps I might even need
to see a doctor or something. And then it occurred to me that perhaps
this might be a good time to fast from running.

Fasting is a controversial subject, because it can certainly be
misconstrued. People have fasted for self-righteous reasons; others
have made it a form of self-control that has become disordered, like
what anorectics and bulimics in managing their food intake.

But fasting is commanded in the Bible, and it is an invitation to
something far greater than puffing oneself up or gaining an unhealthy
control over one's body. It is a way to draw closer to God, to grow
in your hunger for Him and for the things that make His heart beat.
It is a healthy and necessary spiritual discipline for any Christian
person, any Christian group.

The leaders of my church have called us to fast of late, sensing that
God has things to speak to us if only we will slow down enough to
listen. As a group, we are fasting from many activities, with the
thought being that for as good as all these meetings and dinners and
gatherings are, they can so busy us so as to squeeze the spirituality
out of our lives. Individually, people are fasting – from food, from
TV, and other things – so as to have more time and more hunger for God
and His leading.

So perhaps it is time for me to fast from running. As good as running
is for me physically and spiritually, it isn't sacred. Sometimes it
is a source of pride that I am taking good care of my body. Other
times I track dates and miles with the unhealthy obsession of an
eating-disordered person who might do the same with food and calories.
I should be able to give up anything – even good things –for a spell.

This is what I thought to myself as I was walking back home yesterday
morning. Instead of running, I could walk – and the slower pace would
make it easier for me to speak to God. I could pray for the city
which I was walking through, for friends and family who did not yet
know Jesus, for whatever else came to mind. I could listen for God,
and hear and experience Him in everything around me – harder to do
when you're whizzing down the street.

So I tried this. Five minutes later, I thought to myself, "My leg is
feeling better," and I tried to run home. Didn't work. Leg still
hurting. Better take this fast more seriously. Just as it is hard to
fast from food, it will be hard for me to fast from running. I will
get cranky. I will miss the burn, the routine, the escape. I will
have to dig deeper into God. I will find myself with more time to
pray, to meditate, to listen. It will be a good thing.