Bread for Your Journey

The title of this weekly column has special poignancy today.  I’m going on a journey this afternoon up to Aspen to run a Back Country Trail Marathon tomorrow.  (In case you’re wondering, all marathons are 26.2 miles).  I’d like to share a few thoughts on our journey with Christ that I’ve picked up training on trails. 

First, there’s the training effect.  The effect is, simply, the more you do something, the better you get at it.  When the modern Marathon was born with the revival of the Olympics, the distance seemed insurmountable.  Today hundreds of thousands run marathons, and many of them aren’t what anyone would call “athletic.”  Our bodies adjust to small increases in duration and intensity over time.  12 weeks ago, I couldn’t have run 26 miles—tomorrow, I should be able to.  Maybe you can’t love or manage your money as you want to today, but incrementally, given time and consistency of effort, you can.

Next, there’s what is called the training lag or delay.  Basically, there’s no cramming for a marathon!  The last two weeks have been easy, with little training because it wouldn’t do any good, and would even harm me.  My fitness level is what I did three weeks ago.  Experts believe this is due to the time our bodies need to adjust, and to heal.  I’ll be running on legs that have been trained for thirty years, and with special focus for the last twelve weeks, and rested for two.  There’s really no cramming in Christ.  It’s a long road without shortcuts, requiring consistent effort and rest.  Also, if you do nothing, if you do not prepare, you will not endure.

Finally, there’s the food and drink problem.  After an hour of running without either, the tank is empty.  So, I’ll be drinking about 16 ounces per hour, and eating about 200 calories per hour.  Yummy gel packs.  They’ve gotten better, but yick.  I sometimes hear people say, “I don’t go to church anymore because my mother forced me to go all the time as a child.”  Taking in the Word and Sacraments is like bread and water.  Our spirits can only take in so much at a time, and our stores get depleted by the uphill climb of life.  We need a steady diet of the Bread of Life and Water from The Well to complete our journey on the road to Emmaus.

Fr. Theron +

So, I “ran” my marathon. I put “ran” in quotes because the course was so tough that I did more walking than expected, and even needed a lie-down in the shade after a 2,000 foot elevation climb. So, I knew this trail marathon was going to take much longer than a standard 26 mile run, but three hours plus? Yep, seven hours and twenty five minutes. To give you a sense of how hard it was, 246 people started, 191 finished, and I was number 163. It was HARD. The marathon taught me some things…

Aid Stations: I carried my own water and food in a Camelbak, but there were four aid stations where I was able to refill and refuel. Without the help of others, I either would have had to carry three times as much, or would have dropped out. Not only do we need the aid of others, we need to notice and thank them.

Give Thanks: Along the way there were places of staggering beauty. Running through groves of hundred foot plus tall aspens, massive fields of purple asters and black-eyed susans awash in the morning sun. Stopping to give thanks and praise to the Creator of All Good things is good for body and soul.

Friends and Family: Denise and Cullen met me at the third aid station at mile 17.5. How I looked forward to them! Knowing they would be ahead pulled me towards them. Yes, I needed the Gatoraid they had for me, and the PB Sandwich and bananas at the station, but they fed something deeper. Then, as I was bonking atop Buttermilk Mountain, dizzy, nauseated, and had to stop for five, I thought of me and my big mouth: of telling you all that I was doing this. If I’d kept my mouth shut, I could have quit! But no way was I going to face you all as a quitter. I had to account for myself to you! And then to meet not only Denise and Cullen at the finish, but Ruth, Phoebe, and Ruth’s mom: BONUS. Each of us must run our own race, but Life is better when its shared, when one is loved.

Patience! If you had told me at mile five, twelve, or even seventeen, that I was going too fast, that a “bonk” was imminent, I would have called you crazy. But that’s exactly what happened. They say the marathon is two races—the first two-thirds and the last. It’s true. If you spend it all early, you’ll have nothing for the climbs at the end. Slow and steady, one step at a time, planning ahead, saving for tough climbs. I simply spent too much too soon. I was going along at a fairly comfortable pace, even surrounded by others. How fast and how much others can achieve, how much they have to spend is irrelevant—who I am, who you are, based in the individual God created you to be, combined with your training, that’s what should set your pace.

Fr. Theron +