Conversational Taboos: Religion, Politics — and Running

This video, “How To Talk To Non-Runners,” cracks me up. If you’re a runner, it will ring all too true, especially this line: “Within the first 30 seconds of every conversation, the non-runner must make a remark about how running is hard on their knees.”

What is it about running that seems to inspire a certain defensiveness? It’s as though many non-runners assume that, because you’re a runner, you will judge them negatively because they are not. And so they offer an excuse, or apology, for their non-running, even though none was ever requested. Sometimes they’ll even shift into a certain form of passive-aggression, whereby their arguments for non-running are elevated to universal absolutes, and thus, by extension, you must be either a masochist or a pervert for being a runner.

As a Catholic, I’ve experienced a similar manifestation of this same phenomenon when the subject of my faith comes up. Curiously, the problem tends not to arise among believers of other stripes, or even among atheists, but from lapsed Catholics or agnostics. Whereas the non-runner will launch into a soliloquy about the danger that running poses to the knees, this sort of non-believer will usually tell you — without any prompting — about why they would go to church, but they’re too busy, or how they left the Church after a priest was mean to them, or how they have come to realize that organized religion is all bunk.

As a former non-runner and a former non-practicing Catholic, I can relate. I suppose this defensiveness stems from a sense of guilt: We see someone doing something that we suspect we ought to be doing, and so we feel a need to rationalize away or own inaction.

Before I ran, or really, before I engaged in any meaningful exercise at all, I used to dread it when fitness geeks would talk about how much they worked out. Being the non-confrontational sort, I wouldn’t start lecturing them about their knees, but in my mind I would start tearing them down. I would discount them as “freaks,” thereby justifying myself in my sloth. It was so with the Faith, too. Whenever encountered with a practicing believer, I would look for whatever excuse I could come up with to write them off as “zealots” or “holy rollers” — and then push away from my mind any nagging sense that, gee, maybe I should pay more attention to God, too. Truth be told, I’m still this way now whenever someone seems to show greater self-discipline (which is often) or holiness (which is very often) than I can seem to muster.

Consequences of our fallen nature, I suppose. The video above proposes talking about running in a way that non-runners can understand — such as commenting on the beauty of nature and fresh air — when the subject comes up. And I suppose the same could be said for talking about the Faith. The key is to use language that neither threatens, condemns, nor confuses, but that can somehow reflect the love of Christ in a cynical world.

I’ve never felt a need to be an evangelist for running. It’s not for everyone, and that’s fine. Jesus Christ, however, is for everyone. He came to this world for everyone. Died for everyone. Rose from the dead for everyone. And promises His infinite love to everyone. That certain non-believers feel the need to excuse their non-belief is, I suspect, an outward sign of their inward longing for Him.

The Faith is too good a gift not to share, which is why learning the right way to live it and to talk about it is so vital.