Training and Faith

As I ran today in preparation for the Chicago Rock'n'Roll Half Marathon this weekend, I began to think about the faith lessons that training for a race teaches.  I'm not talking about the sort of stuff you'll read if you Google "running spiritual lessons"; I appreciate the ideas of "running to obtain a prize", perseverance, and heart, but I'm thinking of more tangible lessons of trust--trusting an author and the plan he has for you.

Race training is about managing the balance between pushing yourself and allowing your body to recover; consequently, most modern marathon/half-marathon training calendars never have you running race distance at pace, and often if you're running close to race distance, it's at a much slower pace.  A body simply needs certain time to recover, and pushing yourself every run and/or running too much can wear you out, cause injury, and leave you exhausted and hurt on race day.

In this environment, you approach the race having never run even close to the race distance at pace--and this fact is in your thinking the entire time you train.  Consequently, you have to make a choice every day to either (a) trust the training schedule and run your allotted miles and pace, or you (b) over-run out of a fear of not being prepared.  As a recovering perfectionist, it's often hard for me to relax when there is an opportunity to "prepare more".  It's often hard to truly enjoy and embrace a day of rest, especially if I've missed a run during the week.  So-called 'easy' runs close to race-day are opportunities to overdo it and practice race pace.

But if I trust that the author of the training schedule knows what he's doing and has my best interest and success in mind, I can take the needed rest day "in faith", knowing that it will be for the best.  If I'm willing to trust, I can enjoy a leisurely short run rather than calling an audible and adding distance or trying to cut time.  My training calendar becomes a budget; I can make advance decisions about how I'll spend my running 'dollars', knowing I'll have the resources I need when the 'bill' comes due.  I surrender the responsibility for my training to the author of the calendar, and I trust his experience and expertise that he's allowed for and balanced my need to challenge myself and my need to recover.

Training also mimics faith in that it is about keeping the end goal in mind while celebrating progress and the little victories along the way.  Every small step--insignificant in itself--is a manageable application, a course-correction from where I am to where I want to be.  In this way, training is less "something to do" but a focus on "who you are".  The runner I am at the beginning of training couldn't--on his best day--run the race at the goal pace.  Unless there is development and growth, the goal remains out of reach; on the other hand, the runner I am at the end of training sees the goal pace as reachable.