On Saturday, I wrote about Sr. Mary Agnes, a running nun with an incredible running-ministry to children from families in crisis. Well, fast forward just a couple of days later, and I stumble upon another of Sr. Mary Agnes’ great works: the Facebook Rosary.
Very cool! When I first came into my faith a dozen years ago, I found on the Internet a downloadable program called the Virtual Rosary. That little bit of software not only taught me how to pray the rosary, but also really served as a pipeline of grace into a young convert’s heart. Kudos to Sr. Mary Agnes for giving the world the 21st century equivalent!
Says the running nun:
“The fact is that a lot of people are searching through the social media. They’re looking for something; they’re trying to fill a void. I’m trying to make sure that what I add into that void is something good and useful.”
This devotional widget has already grabbed more than 1 million hits! Way to go, Sister Mary Agnes! Praise be to God!
It was late — late — one night when I was 14 years old, and I just couldn’t sleep. Hours and hours had passed, and no amount of tossing, turning, or counting farm animals would do the trick. This was a hard-core case of insomnia, now on its third night. So, out of desperation, I reached over for the radio and flicked to the AM dial. Music, I figured, would be too stimulating, but maybe talk would, if nothing else, turn my mind to something other than my inability to sleep.
Within minutes, I was out cold.
That moment marked the beginning of an addiction. I suddenly found myself an aficionado of all things radio: It began with news, then drifted into sports and politics. But really, I liked it all. Back in those days, Larry King had a radio show on which he would interview authors of new books, and I listened to it nightly. I loved the occasional niche shows that stations would play on weekends, like tech-talk, call-in therapy, or pet care. On a trip to Austria, I found myself scanning the dial for anything I could get in English, which usually consisted of Voice of America (by day) and the World Service of Radio Moscow (by night). Back in the States, one local radio station dedicated Sunday nights to old-fashioned radio dramas — a real treat.
And when I came into my faith at age 24, my audiophilia opened me up to the wonderful world of Catholic radio, which proved a great way to deepen my knowledge of the Faith. Today, Catholic Answers Live and EWTN are the bread and butter of my audio existence.
The addiction that kicked in when I was 14 has carried with me for the last 20-plus years. I listen to the radio in the car. On the (rare) moments I’m home alone and the house is quiet, my mp3 player is always on. After Mary Kate and I were married, I gave up the bedtime radio habit out of consideration for her, but thanks to the advent of podcasts (and headphones) even this has returned. And, of course, podcasts are essential to my running.
A few months back, I mused about how hard it would be for me to take my runs without audio. I even flirted with the idea of giving up my mp3 player for Lent. But then the start of Lent coincided with my injury, which distracted me from (translation: gave me an excuse to shelve) that idea.
Yet now Holy Week is upon us, and my injury seems to be getting better. So, on the principle that it’s better to start small than not to start at all, I’ve decided to give up my beloved mp3 player for the week. And that includes my runs, even the 13-miler I’ve got planned for Holy Saturday.
It sounds so silly, I know. Millions of runners run quite happily without sound all the time. And as far as addictions go, this one is rather benign. But it is something I am, for whatever reasons, very reluctant to let go of. And in faith, we should be prepared to live without anything, save for God’s love and grace.
So, between now and Easter, I will be going sans audio. And just maybe, in the silence, I’ll hear something I’ve been missing. After all, it works for these guys …
Sister has run 10 full marathons. What is that draws her to running? She tells CathNews USA:
"You can do it by yourself, it doesn't cost anything, you can do any schedule," Wood said. "It gives you a chance to thank God for your good health, that's big for me. A lot of people could do it if they had the health. So I hope as long as I have good health, I'll keep running."
It’s a question I’m asked all the time: Why in the world would you want to run marathons?
To which I am tempted to answer: Because walking them is just too darn slow!
The real answer, though, is complex: I love long runs and the sense of utter reliance on God that they provide. I think the discipline of training is good for my character. I’ve had family and loved ones run marathons in the past, and somehow, running today helps me feel connected to them. And, if I’m going to be honest about things, my vain nature and my pride like the admiration that seems to come with the accomplishment.
Then there are two overriding reasons:
One is that I suspect if I weren’t trying to train for marathons, I wouldn’t run at all. Just as exams force students to keep up with their studies, the prospect of running 26.2 miles sometime in the not-so-distant future compels me to run. I know I can’t possibly hope to complete one of these races if I don’t keep up the training, so keep up I do. Without that challenge, it would be too easy for my slothful nature to take over and find plenty of excuses for why today isn’t a good day to run.
The second reason — and I’m sure many runners can relate here — is I’m addicted. Whether it’s the endorphins or whatever, my body thrives not just on running, but on long, grueling runs in particular.
The motivations for running span the gamut from good and holy to sinful and ugly. And knowing this about myself, it’s wise to stop and ask: Why am I doing this, and more important, what does God want me to do?
It was clear He didn’t want me to run the L.A. Marathon earlier this month. But now as I contemplate San Diego is June, I want to make sure my reasons are worthwhile. I’ve prayed about it, but have yet to get any clear answers. Yet often God asks us only to take one step, without telling us where He will ultimately lead us.
For me, that next step comes today, when I need to run 13 miles — by far the longest since my injury — if I am to catch up with the 18-week training schedule that would prepare me for the June race. So we’ll see. I’ll give it a try, and maybe through the run — or during it — He’ll give me some more direction.
You see, the sisters run the St. Charles Children’s Home in New Hampshire, a group home for children from families in crisis. As one might imagine, these children often struggle with anger and other emotional difficulties. At one point years back, the sisters discovered that running provided a wonderful way for the kids to manage and overcome these troubles. And ever since, the “Running Nuns,” as they have come to be known, have made running part of daily life at St. Charles Home. They even host an annual 5k on Labor Day, in which both residents and past residents of the home participate.
You may have heard of the Running Nuns, as they have attracted quite a bit of media attention over the years, with appearances in Runner's World, NPR, and the CBS Early Show, to name just a few. I first heard of the Running Nuns on a podcast a few years ago, and I’ve been meaning to blog about them for months. So it’s wonderful to now be able to virtually follow their good work! (Sr. Mary Agnes, by the way, is part of our Running Catholic group on Daily Mile, and I would heartily encourage all other readers to join!)
Via the combox, I’ve made the virtual acquaintance of Emily, who, like Alicia Torres, has taken up running as a way to help raise money for her entrance into the religious life (hopefully this summer). She is running the Pittsburgh Marathon in May, and she also is one of the beneficiaries of the Run for Nuns — a team of 10 seminarians, deacons, and priests from the Diocese of Pittsburgh who are running the Pittsburgh Marathon to raise funds for four would-be sisters.
Emily has a blog, Run so as To Win, which includes her compelling vocation story and offers some great thoughts on both running and the Faith. Among my favorites is this nugget, which comes from her introductory post:
I think that running is a great metaphor for the spiritual life — Paul was right on when he called the Corinthians to “run so as to win” (I Cor 9:24). Running can be very pleasurable, but it is not always pure joy. However, when one is faithful to a running regime, the benefits become apparent over time. The person who is faithful to running is changed, and becomes physically well. The same holds true for prayer. Prayer can be dry. It can be painful. It can seem like it yields no fruit. However, fidelity to prayer ultimately leads the soul to bring forth great fruit for Christ and his kingdom, and leads to spiritual wellness. It just takes patience, endurance, and fidelity.
What a powerful insight. As someone who has been very disciplined about his running regimen in recent years — and, truth be told, less so about his prayer regimen — I find this both convicting and inspiring.
Of course, I’m also inspired any time I read about those who boldly answer God’s call in their lives. One thing I have loved about maintaining this blog over the last few months is all the running nuns (or aspiring nuns) and running priests I’ve encountered over the net. It truly is springtime in the Church!
To support Emily in her cause, click here, or click here to sponsor the Run for Nuns.
“I believe that God created me to run the marathon and run it well and I will not stop until he tells me it is time, and I will not be distracted unless he directs me to something different.”
—Ryan Hall, Olympic Marathoner
Thanks to RunnerMom for directing me to this heartening interview with Ryan Hall on the Running Times website. An evangelical Christian, Hall is remarkably candid about his faith in a very prudent, likable way. He doesn’t seek to tell others how to live, but seeks to live fully and openly the life to which Christ has called him, and let God do the rest. This is, I suspect, the most powerful sort of witness.
In the interview, Hall fields many of the questions you would expect to come from non-believers: If God is with you, why don’t you win all the time? Has God abandoned you on bad runs? He answers them simply but well, with the observation that God’s measures and ours are not the same:
It was easy for me to feel God's presence when it meant him taking me to new levels of physical performance but it took me years to learn to feel God's presence in my running even when I was struggling or just having an ordinary day…. In a world where it is all about the guy on the top step of the podium and we are defined and define ourselves by the time on our watch, at the end of the day I am trying to spread the word that it ultimately isn't all about that.
Hall cites the examples of St. Paul and the Blessed Mother as people whose lives experience great hardship despite their tremendous closeness to God. Living the Faith can coincide with earthly success, but it’s not about earthly success. And suffering is part of the equation. When Christ says, “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me” (Mark 8:34), He means it.
I really like the quote that opens this blog post, about how God created Hall to run the marathon … for now: “I will not be distracted unless he directs me to something different.” Unless. Hall puts his running at the service of God, and not the other way around.
“Here is Divine Innocence, dealing with a woman whom we will discover to be a great sinner. And what is his method and approach to that soul? He finds a common denominator of conversation. It’s human necessity. He had to go down deep to find anything in common between them, but there was still something common, namely, a love of cold water in the middle of a hot day.”
I recently heard this quote on a Catholic radio show, and it made me think of the good people who line race courses handing out cups of water to the runners-by. Volunteers, all of them, who out of their kindness and generosity make possible the events that bring joy to so many runners.
A race can, paradoxically, be the most unifying and the most isolating of circumstances. Here we run, crammed alongside other runners. We all share the same passion and the same goal, and there is a tangible energy that connects us all in those minutes before the starting gun. Yet we seldom if ever speak to one another during the race. And as we slip into the “zone,” we slip out of awareness. By the time we reach the first, fifth, or fifteenth water station, we may grab the offered cup without even thinking, without so much as looking at the volunteer handing it out, let alone expressing our gratitude.
Still, again and again, we are brought together by … our love of cold water on a hot day.
With God there are no coincidences, no wasted moments, no purposeless meetings. Every person we encounter, every time our eyes meet with someone else’s, somehow, He uses this exchange for His purpose. In running, of course, we encounter many people: Every jog down the block involves passing meetings with neighbors and friends, strangers and other runners. Likewise, every trip to the water station entails the making of a new acquaintance for both parties. How we treat the volunteer, whether it be with indifference, or eye contact and a smile, or perhaps even some kind words, can have an effect greater than we will ever know.
Jesus used a trip to the well to evangelize one woman and, through her, an entire community. “Many of the Samaritans of that town began to believe in Him because of the word of the woman” (Jn. 4:39). Something to keep in mind at that next water station, drawn, as we are, by a love of cold water in the middle of a hot day.
Woman at the Well (Part 1) - Archbishop Fulton Sheen
Well, I wasn't able to make the big race, but I've still enjoyed reading about it. Three items of note:
Steve Lopez at the L.A. Times had an inspiring column about Mervin Roxas, a former Marine who lost his arm in Iraq, and who on Sunday ran the race to raise money for homeless vets.
Please pray for the 21-year-old man who collapsed on mile 18, and who is listed as being in critical condition.
For those of us too slow to win prizes in these races, you may be glad to know that the 99¢ Only stores offered a prize of $999.99 to whomever came in 999th place. (Sadly, I wouldn’t have been in contention for that prize, either, but at least it’s something to shoot for!)
Here’s a neat idea that seems to have taken hold in a number of dioceses: a run for vocations. The Archdiocese of Indianapolis will be sponsoring runners at a 5k for vocations in May, and I know the Archdiocese of Los Angeles has done so at past city marathons. What a great way to offer prayers for vocations, especially for vocations to the priesthood and the religious life, as well as a way to provide encouragement in a public venue.
Typically those who “run for vocations” wear a t-shirt saying as much. Imagine the effect their presence could have on a young man contemplating the priesthood, out running a race, who is praying for God to carry him all the way. Imagine if, at every turn, he saw fellow runners running for vocations — indeed, in the providence of God, running for his vocation.
Might he not recognize those shirts as an answer to prayer, even as a manifestation of God’s call? Racers who run for vocations thus can literally be the means by which God calls those chosen to His priesthood. How awesome is that?
Today marks the day that I had planned to run the Los Angeles Marathon — an ambition thwarted by a most unwelcome case of iliotibial band syndrome (AKA Runners’ Knee) that, for the time being, keeps me from running more than 7.5 miles at a time. But God works in mysterious ways, and because I am not able to run the marathon today, I was instead able to participate in yesterday’s Run for Nuns!
So, as promised: Here’s my race recap:
Although “shadow participants” could do their runs anywhere, I had the good fortune of joining a group of 15 or so runners up at Thomas Aquinas College in Santa Paula, Calif. We ran a 5k that consisted of three loops around the (very hilly!) campus. I must admit, having spent the last few months doing only longer runs (from 5 to 20 miles), I was completely unprepared for the quicker pace of the 5k! But when all those young whippersnappers took off at the start, I did my best to try to keep up. (By the way, running with college students is a great way to develop the virtue of humility!) I clocked in at an underwhelming 26:16.
Above is the photo of our group taken before the run. Below, a chaplain at the college, Fr. Paul Raftery, O.P., gives us a blessing before the start. Beautiful weather, good cause, and wonderful people — what more could you ask for?
To all the runners in today’s L.A. Marathon: You have my prayers! I wish I could be there with you. See you next year!
It’s common for religious communities within the Church to pray for their dead, and likewise, it has been a goal of mine to make Running Catholic an engine of grace for deceased runners. Runners obviously do not constitute anything like a religious order, such as the Dominicans, but we do make up a community of sorts, and so it’s worthwhile to lift each other up in prayer, especially for those who have left this life for the next.
To that end, there are two runners I want to remember in prayer today, one who has passed away after a long, beautiful life, and one taken from us all too young.
The first is Ed Burke of Northern California, whose “long run,” to quote this recently posted online obituary, “came to an end Oct. 14, 2009, three months short of his 92nd birthday.” He is described as the “son of Irish immigrants, devout Catholic, devoted family man, World War II veteran” and “anything but ordinary.” He was also a marathoner: “While his contemporaries were enjoying retirement on the golf course or on a bench outside a neighborhood coffee shop, he was running marathons and leaving competitors a third his age far behind.” His PR: 3:16 — at the age of 62!
Here he is approaching the finish line of the 1979 Pacific Sun Marathon. Godspeed, Mr. Burke.
And then, on a very tragic note, there’s the story of Chelsea King, the 17-year-old girl who was murdered while on a run in San Diego a few weeks ago. Below is a picture from a vigil on her behalf at St. Michael Catholic Church on March 2.
Let’s pray for the soul of Chelsea, the consolation of her family, and the conversion of her killer.
May the souls of the faithful departed,
through the mercy of God,
rest in peace.
Although not typically regarded as a patron of runners, St. Joseph, is, if you ask me, more than worthy of the honor. After all, he no doubt did the Flight into Egypt at a brisk pace — while leading a donkey carrying a woman and a baby! (And I thought pushing a double jog-stroller is hard.) But more than that, this patron of the Church is a patron of us all: The defender and protector of Our Lord and Our Lady, this hero of faith who silently did whatever God asked of him.
St. Joseph’s Day is one of my favorite solemnities, and not just because it’s an excuse to eat sweets during Lent! It’s also the commemoration of a man who beautifully represents the Christian ideals of loving submission and service to the will of God, and who serves as a model to fathers everywhere.
And, of course, the solemnity also gives me a reason to post a picture of this delightful little guy, our 3-year-old son, Joseph Malcolm (shown here cross-training on his beloved tricycle).
Looking for a good 5k or 10k to run on Saturday that’s close to home? Join the Fun Nun Run!
This race to benefit the Poor Clares of Perpetual Adoration of Our Lady of Solitude Monastery in Phoenix (AKA the Desert Nuns) technically takes place in Arizona — and, indeed, an estimated 1,000 runners are expected to show up there. But because the Body of Christ knows no geographical boundaries, the sisters are allowing runners anywhere to run as shadow participants — meaning you register (be sure to check the Shadow Participant box), while doing the miles on your own, and still get the souvenir t-shirt! The sisters even plan to recognize the largest out-of-state team!
What a great idea, great cause, and great fun!
I’m definitely in, and if anyone else does the run virtually, I encourage you to post your race reports in the comments box. “See” you there!
Running this weekend, I was blessed to listen to a podcast of the Stations of the Cross, which was a beautiful way to bring the Lenten season into my workout. And while all the reflections were powerful, the one that really stood out was the Fifth Station, Simon Helps Jesus Carry His Cross. You can get the podcast here (click to listen, right-click to download), but to paraphrase, the speaker observed that Christ took on the frailty of humanity so completely that He even took on dependence — needing someone else to help Him. In His passion, Jesus denied Himself even that faint sense of pride that we derive from being able to bear our burdens on our own. The almighty, omnipotent God lowered Himself to be like all of us in our moments of weakness, desperate for a helping hand.
For runners, this is a worthy notion to keep in mind, that dependence is part of our very nature. I know that when I’m running long distances, it’s easy for me to get prideful, to become enamored with my own accomplishments. But even in a marathon, where would we be without the volunteers handing out water on the side of the road? Or the loved ones who enable us to train? Or the awesome God who give us our every breath and ability?
Yes, there will likely be a day when each of us will be radically dependent on others — as we were as babies, and as we will be again in times of sickness or old age. But actually, we are radically dependent on Him each and every day, each and every step. And how amazing it is to think that He, out of His great love for us, at one time made Himself completely dependent on us, His creatures — from His dependency on Mary in the womb to His dependency on Simon on the way to Calvary.
For anyone planning a run for Friday — or for that matter, a run any time this Lent — I heartily recommend taking the Stations along with you. In addition to the podcast I listened to, here are a couple others which I haven’t heard yet, but I think I’ll try out this weekend (again, click to listen, right-click to download.):
A lifelong athlete, Mark Austry finished Sunday’s Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon in Dallas in 1:47:39 — then suddenly collapsed and died. This shocking, devastating loss must come as quite a blow to his family. Mark leaves behind a wife and two daughters, ages 3 and 1. Especially hard hit is his brother, Mike, who had suggested that they run the half-marathon together. “It’s hard to acknowledge it, but I think he did it because he loved me, because he wanted to spend some time on something he knows I do,” Mike told NBCDFW.
Mark was, by all accounts, the picture of health. A former college and semi-pro baseball player, he held the course record at his local country club. He was the last person anyone would ever expect to die this way — a poignant reminder that none of us knows God’s appointed time to call us home, and running, like anything, has its risks.
He was also, according to those who know him, a devoted husband and father. “Most of the people who know him can’t emphasize enough what ... a family man he was,” says Mike in the Dallas News. “His life was centered around his wife and children. He never deviated from that devotion.”
Mark’s funeral will be held Friday at St. Ann Catholic Church in Coppell, Tex. Let’s all join in praying for the repose of his soul, as well as for the consolation of his family. Donations to a fund for his daughters can be sent c/o of Britt Harper at Edward Jones Investments, 120 Southeast Ave. B, Seminole, TX 79363.
I’m not sure why this is a problem, but it is. The Los Angeles Marathon is on Sunday, and that seems to be a cause of hardship for 14 houses of worship located on or near the course. The L.A. Times has a story about this difficulty and the way different congregations are coping with it, with solutions ranging from relocating services to canceling them entirely.
Yet it seems that with some creative course-shaping, shared parking, shuttles, and, if need be, some rescheduled services, this ought to be workable. There may be some inconveniences, but with intelligent planning, they ought not be insurmountable. Every other city of appreciable size in the United States manages to host at least one marathon a year without sabotaging the Sabbath.
While some churches complain about the potential loss of collections and worshipers, they should look at it this way: What a great opportunity for evangelization! Offer special Masses for runners the night before, or early on the morning of the race, or afterward. Station the faithful in front of the church to hand out water, bananas, and sunscreen to runners-by. Have the choir sing hymns. Post banners with words from Scripture. Host adoration inside the church, with members of the congregation offering prayers for the physical and spiritual well-being of the runners. Get the priest to sprinkle holy water on racers and offer blessings for whoever wants them.
Some 17,000 people who might never so much as think of the Faith will be coming by this Sunday. Many will be feeling weak, tired, and lonely — which is, for most of us, the time when we are most disposed to hearing God’s call. Here’s a chance to reach out to them with the love of Christ.
There are races for every cause under the sun: for diseases, for vocations, for non-profit groups, you name it. Worthy causes, each and every one. But in London over the weekend, some 450 runners gathered not so much to raise money, but to raise awareness … of missing people. Joining the race were parents Kate and Gerry McCann, who ran wearing t-shirts bearing a picture of the their young daughter, Madeleine, who’s been missing for nearly two years. Their shirts read, “Don’t Give Up On Me.”
Sad, but that’s not the part that blew me away. This was:
Earlier Kate revealed how she prays for the kidnapper and said that she will try to find it in her heart to forgive them.
Imagine that: She prays for the person who kidnapped her own daughter. That’s a powerful witness.
Please, dear God, bring Madeleine home.
Please keep her safe.
Please console her family,
and inspire a conversion in her kidnapper’s heart.
Jeff Garbowsky is a Catholic runner — a marathoner and ultramarathoner — from Alexandria. Va., who four years ago lost his mother to cancer and had his wife leave him in the same week. He has been homeless and he has had to recover from a collapsed lung. On March 20, he’ll be running in Washington’s National Marathon. See more about his inspiring story from this recent profile on a D.C. news broadcast.
“‘Sexuality characterizes man and woman not only on the physical level, but also on the psychological and spiritual, making its mark on each of their expressions’.11 It cannot be reduced to a pure and insignificant biological fact, but rather ‘is a fundamental component of personality, one of its modes of being, of manifestation, of communicating with others, of feeling, of expressing and of living human love’.12”
But one need not take the Church’s word for it that God made men and women different. For that, you need only open my medicine cabinet.
There, you will see a lovely, powder-blue container, decorated with flowers. The name of this product, spelled out in a dainty cursive font, is “Secret,” suggesting quiet, subtlety, intimacy. Its scent, we are told, is “powder fresh,” giving rise to maternal notions of a newborn baby. This is, suffice it to say, my wife’s deodorant.
Then, look over, and you will see mine: a double-barreled dose of testosterone in manly black casing. The name of this product, displayed in a font straight out of Robocop, isn’t just “Right Guard,” which suggests righteous protection, but “Right Guard Xtreme!” So extreme that it’s misspelled! Why, just using this stuff is the hygienic equivalent of bungy-jumping off the Grand Canyon. It’s so powerful, in fact, that its power is confined to a single, trademarked “power stripe,” lest anyone get hurt. Further, it offers the “ultimate in time-released protection,” meaning that it’s the best of the best — and it’s punctual, to boot. Even the scent, “arctic refresh,” is a testament to Xtreme manliness: People would wear this stuff in the Arctic, if they sweated there.
Now the world might claim that the Church is wrong on this whole “man and women He created them” business, that there really is no difference between men and women and how they perceive reality and interact with one another. But Madison Avenue knows better. And deep in our own medicine cabinets, we all do.
So when you run this weekend, sweat like a man, or sweat like a woman, in whatever way He created you!
* Note, stating that men and women are different in no way detracts from their equality or dignity. To quote Cardinal Ratzinger again: “Above all, the fact that human beings are persons needs to be underscored: ‘Man is a person, man and woman equally so, since both were created in the image and likeness of the personal God’.10 Their equal dignity as persons is realized as physical, psychological and ontological complementarity, giving rise to a harmonious relationship of ‘uni-duality’, which only sin and ‘the structures of sin’ inscribed in culture render potentially conflictual.”
This item makes me feel guilty about all the times I’ve complainedaboutthe weather: Fr. Robert Reyes, a priest in the Philippines, braved El Niño’s scorching mid-day sun — and doctors’ warnings of heat strokes — to run an estimated 18 miles as a prayer for drought relief. Not only that, he did it, “carrying a bamboo pole with water pails on both ends” — which makes the torture that is a fanny pack seem positively humane. Fr. Reyes also stopped along the way to sprinkle holy water “on some of the worst-hit agricultural lands.”
We join you and all the Filipino in your prayers for rain, Father. Run on!
I have recently discovered a running blog I hadn’t seen before: 52 Beginnings, the extraordinary race diary of a woman named Dana Casanave who is — incredibly — trying to run 52 marathons in 52 weeks. The purpose of this awesome feat? She’s raising money for an organization called 25:40, which is dedicated to caring for AIDS orphans in Africa. (The group's name comes from Matt. 25:40, “Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me.”)
I cannot even imagine the physical toll this tremendous act of love must be taking on Dana’s body. Most marathon runners take at least a month to let their bodies recover after a race, but she is taking, at most, a week between each one. She also is traveling all over the country to make these races and sleeping wherever she’s offered lodging.
Given what she must be going through, she is no doubt an expert on the subject of her latest post: suffering. And here she has some beautiful insights, gleaned from her most recent marathon last weekend:
I thought about Stephen. He's the 4 year-old little boy that I was running for. In 2008 his aunt brought him into the Umtha Welanga Health Care Center, as he had tuberculosis. He was also tested for HIV and the results were positive. Sadly, this was not his first tragedy. His mother committed suicide when she learned that she had AIDS. He continues to live with his aunt in a small village outside of Hamburg, South Africa….
Marathons are painful (or at least they are for me). Even on my best days, there are moments in the race where there is pain. Whether it's mental or physical, the distance carries it's own punishment. … Today my heart has been heavy for Stephen. … My suffering while running dosen't even begin to compare to his life. It makes any pain I experience like a care tossed to the wind when I think about the gravity of his situation. It brings home why I'm doing this, why I'm pushing my body. That thought played over and over in my mind today as I ran, like a song on repeat. It motivated me and pushed me, especially when my body began to feel the physical toll of the miles….
Suffering is part of running, just as it is part of life, but as Dana shows us, it can be used for the good. She has united her suffering with that of Stephen, much like the runners in the Passion Marathon unite their suffering with that of Christ. All these runners are wise not to let their suffering be wasted — an example I, for one, would do well to follow. (NB: If you’re looking for an opportunity for some Lenten almsgiving, this sure seems like a worthy cause.)
Please God bless Stephen and others in his situation. And please bless Dana and her good work!
Oh sure, running 26.2 miles may be challenging, but imagine sitting for 13 straight hours, in a cramped box, listening to sin after sin of your fellow fallen man.
Such is the challenge facing the Franciscan Friars of Primitive Observance, who are staging a “Confess-a-Thon” at St. Kathryn Church in Hudson, N.H. This “penance marathon,” which began on Saturday, continues though today from 6 a.m.-9 p.m.
Way to go, Fathers! Talk about grace through endurance!
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.
Following up on my doctor’s suggestion, I went to the local running store to get some arch supports, and came home with these — “footbeds” that mold to the shape of your feet. Too early to tell if they will actually help, but I got in 7 miles on Sunday, the farthest my knee has let me run in weeks, so I’ll take it!
Thanks be to God!
Of course, now I have this song stuck in my head ...
There are some runners who won’t run on the Sabbath — think Eric Liddell in Chariots of Fire (about which I’ve blogged here) — a discipline I respect greatly. I, however, am not one of them. For me, although running is a workout, it is not work. It’s relaxing. It’s enjoyable. And it’s prayerful. Sunday is also the day when I’m most able to carve out a 2-3 hour block of free time, which is why it’s usually on Sundays that I take my long runs.
But there’s another reason, too: Sunday is the one day of the week that I am certain to make it to Mass. And so if I run on a Sunday afternoon, it will, perforce, be not long after having received the Eucharist on Sunday morning.
Runners know how important eating is to the body’s function. We all have our rituals: The carbo load the day before, the gels during, the hamburger after a long race. We also know how bad a run can be if we haven’t eaten properly. (Allow me to offer some advice gleaned from personal experience: Never run after eating donuts.)
So what better way to take on that big run than to be fueled by Christ Himself, the Real Presence — Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity — in the Holy Eucharist? Jesus fortifies us and nourishes us, physically and spiritually. It’s an awesome thought to consider on a Sunday run, that my body and my soul are powered by His grace, offered in abundance through the gift of this most blessed sacrament.
On Wednesday I finally visited with an orthopedist, and as you can see from the x-ray, the news was very encouraging. I do not have a stress fracture, but merely a case of “runners’ knee” — an inflammation caused by a tendon rubbing up against the bone. Those dots on the x-ray below are BBs the doctor had attached to the sore spots on my leg, and they align neatly, he says, with where such contact would take place.
So my running need not be put on hold. The doctor gave me some anti-inflammatory medication which, after a week, should relieve the pain. He also set me up with some PT to learn stretching techniques that will help prevent a reoccurrence. Finally, he encouraged me to get some arch supports for my shoes, which I intend to try out over the weekend. Meanwhile, he says I’m free to run as far as I can until it hurts, then I need to stop.
The bad news is that with the L.A. Marathon two weeks away, and with my having seriously curtailed my running regimen (including no long runs) these last four weeks, I cannot get myself ready in time. But I already knew that, and on the bright side, I should be able to get ready for another marathon much sooner than I had thought. Right now, the top contenders are:
I suppose circumstances, recovery, and — above all — Providence will determine which one, but I am so grateful that these are even an option. Thanks to all who have prayed!
If you live in Colorado, I heartily recommend this as the ultimate Good Friday observance: The Passion Marathon.
A lonely trail. No rock bands or post-race party. Dropping to your knees at every mile marker to pray the Stations of the Cross. Twenty-six-point-two miles. On a day of partial fasting.
“The toll of suffering to complete the task can be nothing short of intense and overwhelming,” write TPM’s organizers. “By uniting our sufferings and surrendering our afflicted selves to Jesus Christ our Lord and God, particularly on this day, will give Him much delight and grant us many graces.”
Sounds intense — and beautiful. One of my greatest runs ever was a 10-miler last year on Good Friday, during which I listened to a podcast about Jesus’ Passion. No, my suffering was not even close to that experienced during a marathon, let alone the suffering Christ endured for the sake of us sinners. But in its small way, it nonetheless made me all the more aware of the enormity of His sacrifice, calling me to a greater sense of reverence and gratitude.
The Passion Marathon sounds like a pretty amazing way to put the focus of running where our focus should always be — on our Lord — as opposed to on ourselves, which is always the temptation (vanity) for the athlete. I especially love stopping to pray the Stations: No PRs on this course. This isn’t about us, it’s about Him.
“Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us,” reads the quote from Hebrews that tops this page, “fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith.”
To all The Passion Marathon runners this year, Godspeed and God’s blessings.
A few months back I wrote about Alicia Torres, the would-be Franciscan nun who has taken up running to help retire her student loans. Well, her story and others like it has inspired the Run for Nuns — a team of 10 seminarians, deacons, and priests from the Diocese of Pittsburgh who are running the Pittsburgh Marathon to raise funds for Alicia and three other young women so that they can be debt-free before entering the religious life.
What a fantastic cause! This sounds like a very worthy beneficiary of some Lenten almsgiving!
Patrick Archbold at Creative Minority Report makes the witty (and true) observation that “there are just certain things about which most everybody claims expertise, even though the trade is rarely, if ever, plied.” Among these “certain things,” he notes, are writing, running, and religion — three subjects about which most people consider themselves expert, regardless of their actual experience. So, when he was a runner, he used to have this conversation with his acquaintances, a conversation most runners know well:
During my marathon years I was an evangelist of running. I badgered friends and co-workers that they should give running a try. I heard every possible excuse. Frequently people told me that their knees prevented them from running any kind of distance.
No they don't.
What do you mean? Yes they do!
If your knees hurt when you run, then you are doing it wrong.
My comment about "doing it wrong" often confused or even insulted people. "How could I be doing it wrong? I know how to run!", they would say. Asking how often they ran and how far, they would admit that they hadn't run since high school gym class. Why would otherwise intelligent people think that they know everything there is to know about something they hadn't done since childhood, and then only because they were forced….
It happens with religion all the time, too:
Chief among the subjects which people assume osmotic expertise is religion. So many times intelligent people, who admittedly have not picked up a book on religion since Confirmation or third grade Sunday school, argue with me over what the church teaches without the slightest bit of suitable humility or discomfiture.
I first read this a few months ago, and found the whole account pretty amusing. Now, reading it again from the standpoint of an injured runner with a bad knee, I find it convicting. I am a largely self-taught “convert” to running. I took it up a few years ago, and basically settled upon my technique, regimen, and approach to running on a largely trial-and-error basis. Sure, I looked at the magazines here and there, and even bought a few books, but I mostly skimmed them, took the advice I wanted to take, and ignored the rest.
Now I wonder: Might my injury have been preventable? Might I have done better to go more “by the book,” to have heeded the advice of experts who have come before me, rather than just thinking I could figure things out on my own?
And might not the same be true of my faith? As an adult “revert” — I was functionally a lapsed Catholic until age 25 — I never had much of a formal education in the Faith. Sure, I read books, listened to a lot of Catholic radio, and got advice from priests and others. But one thing I’ve never done is seek spiritual direction, assuming, I suppose, that I could “figure out” what it means to live the Christian life more or less on my own.
Maybe it’s time for me to be a little more “by the book” in this part of my life as well. Because experiencing something — and even loving it — does not in itself an expert make.
Well, it’s been three weeks since I developed my strange knee injury — the one that doesn’t announce itself until about 4-6 miles into a run. I haven’t written about it much because, well, no one wants to read about other people’s injuries, but also because I’ve been in denial. I’ve been hoping that eventually the pain would disappear and, more important, it would not keep me from running the L.A. Marathon in March.
But even after reconfiguring my training schedule to allow for some more rest, things haven’t gotten better. Sunday was supposed to be a make-or-break test. I would run 18 miles: If I could pull it off, I would continue preparing for the marathon; if I could not, it would be back to the drawing board.
So I set out around noon, and felt sporadic pain in my left knee throughout. I ran through the pain a few times, and usually it went away quickly. Until mile 6. Then the pain got too great to continue, and I could no longer run it off. Sadly, I ended up calling it quits at 6.2 mi. and walking home. Even still, I think I pushed myself too hard: The pain now endures.
Nonetheless, I still cling to my denial: “Maybe I should take the week off, and see if I can pull off a long run next weekend,” I tell myself. “Maybe I could get better, and still be in reasonable shape, in time for the marathon.”
But in my heart of hearts, I know this is wishful thinking. I’ll gladly accept a miracle if God wills to grant me one, but so far, all the signs suggest that He’s asking me to give this marathon up.
I’m frustrated, but I’m trying to keep things in perspective. I also know there will be other marathons, and I cannot wait for the day that, God willing, I will be ready to run one again. Till then, I pray for the patience and acceptance that this disappointment demands.
The Lord is near to the brokenhearted,
and saves the crushed in spirit.
"Called as you are frequently to engage in your competitions in the midst of nature, amid the marvels of the mountains, seas, fields, and slopes, you are in the best position to perceive the value of simple and immediate things, the call to goodness, the dissatisfaction with one’s insufficiency, and to meditate on the authentic values that are the basis of human life…
"These are virtues that harmonize well with the Christian spirit because they demand a capacity for self-control, self-denial, sacrifice, and humility, and therefore an attitude of gratefulness to God, who is the giver of every good and therefore also the giver of the necessary physical and intellectual talents."
— Pope John Paul II
running catholic?
I never intended to be a runner, let alone a blogging one ... (more)
yours truly
CHRIS
A revert to the Faith, a convert to running, a husband and a father, Chris blogs from sunny Southern California. - dailymile profile -
TIM
A convert to the Faith, a life-long runner, biker, hiker, kayaker and surfer, a husband and father, Tim runs in the dark in California. - dailymile profile -
MARY KATE
A cradle Catholic, a convert to running, a wife and mother, Mary Kate runs at 6 am in California, sometimes with children on scooters. View my complete profile.
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