The Spirituality of Running By Henry Zorn I have been a Lutheran pastor for fifteen years. Before that, I was a corporate financial executive for fifteen years. Before that, I was a collegiate athlete. I played catcher in baseball and goalkeeper in soccer at Hofstra University. In 1978 I finished my athletic career by being named the most outstanding senior athlete of the university. I loved competition but I hated conditioning! I always thought it was senseless that my soccer coach made the goalkeepers run long distances before practice with the field players. My time would have been much better spent on agility drills. It was embarrassing to labor along at a nine-minute per mile pace while the midfielders were coasting at a six-minute per mile pace. Let me repeat: I hated distance running! So maybe you are wondering why I am writing an article for a running newspaper. Good question! After I graduated from college and stopped playing competitive sports, I realized that I needed an outlet for my body’s craving of physical activity. I decided to take up running! Why running? I chose it because I didn’t need a facility. I didn’t need a partner. I didn’t have to spend a lot of money on equipment. (I’ve been frugal my whole life!) And I could compete with others and myself. Consistent with my competitive spirit, it didn’t take long before I set my goal - the marathon! Distance running did not come easy to me. I was not a natural. In fact, my thick and muscular thighs, from years of squatting behind home plate, were a distinct disadvantage. (At least that was, and always has been, my excuse for less than expected results from a guy who was a gifted athlete!) I have run seven marathons in my life (Marine Corps twice, Jersey Waterfront twice, Long Island twice, and Shamrock Virginia Beach once). My best time was 4:21 and my slowest time was 4:57. In addition, I have run countless half marathons and other shorter distance races. In the early days of my running career, the best fun was that my wife would bring my three daughters to my races in a red wagon. They always inspired me when they saw me approaching on the race course until their mother taught them a new cheer for me, “Hey, Dad, get the lead out!” In 1988, I ran the Jersey Waterfront Marathon. It was the Olympic Trials qualifying run and the fifty-yard line at The Meadowlands Stadium was the finish line. Whenever the announcer spotted a runner approaching the finish line, he said their name and anything noteworthy about them. After the race, as we were driving home, one of my daughters asked, “Hey, Dad, how come the guy with a heart transplant beat you?” My daughters could never understand why their father was so slow!
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(They never bought into the “thick-thigh” explanation!) As my girls got older, it was always fun for them to accompany me on long runs while riding their bicycles. I had hoped that they would acquire my passion for distance running, but they were far too sensible! To my great joy, now all three of my daughters have taken up running as young adults. In fact, each year the Thanksgiving Day race is one of our most important family events. Since becoming a pastor, I work weekends and cannot participate in races, so the Thanksgiving Day race is a special treat for me each year. To date, my daughters have yet to place ahead of me. When I started distance running, it was to stay in shape, keep a youthful body (my vanity!), and be able to eat as much as I wanted (another passion!) without gaining weight. But over the years, I realized that a transformation was happening. Running became part of me! It was more than the physical. It was spiritual. When I ran, I prayed. When I ran, I found peace and I could feel all of life’s stress draining out of my body. When I ran, I was in communion with God. (I always run outdoors, never on a treadmill.) Running had become life giving! This past summer, my congregation gave me the gift of a ten-week sabbatical. I happened to stumble upon the book Born to Run, by Christopher McDougall. The book tells the story of the Tarahumara, a reclusive Mexican Indian tribe that is purported to be the best ultra distance runners on the planet. But the book is also about many other things - nutrition, history, physiology, and spirituality. McDougall put his finger on what I have been feeling about running for so long but could not put into words, “Sex and speed – haven’t they been symbiotic for most of our existence, as intertwined as the strands of our DNA?” I have nuanced McDougall’s words and I use the words, “compassion and running.” For me, as a pastor, the compassion of Jesus is at the center of my faith, and running is one important way that I tap into that Spirit! Running feeds my compassion and compassion feeds my running. They are both primordial. McDougall goes on to say, “Perhaps all our troubles – all the violence, obesity, illness, depression, and greed we can’t overcome – began when we stopped living as Running People.” Deep inside, I have felt that way about running for a long time. If you are driving around Anderson Township and happen to see me running on the streets, I would greatly appreciate it if you would yield. Most of the time I’ll see you coming, but occasionally, I am preoccupied with prayer and listening to what God wants to tell me. One other thing, if it looks like I’m laboring, please don’t holler out your car window, “Hey buddy, get the lead out!” Like my three daughters, you may regret that when I see you on Thanksgiving Day!