Running as a metaphor for the spiritual life

The New Testament is quite familiar with the archetypal image of life as a road or a graced journey. Jesus speaks of Himself as “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6), and before “Christian” becomes the standard designation, the first followers of Jesus refer to themselves as “the Way” (Acts 9:2). Saint Paul exhorts his readers to consider the analogy of a footrace as they persevere in the life of faith, straining joyfully toward a triumphant end (1 Corinthians 9:24-27). He also expresses confident trust that he is not running the race of his ministry in vain (Galatians 2:2; Philippians 2:16). By implication, then, running is the most biblically sound and theologically profound of all the sports. (Having run cross-country and track in high school and college, I assure you that I have no personal bias on this subject.)

Those who run will recognize the spiritual opportunities that are available to them through the physical discipline of running. So much is beyond your control on a run. The previous day’s rain could create massive puddles on a concrete road or a swampy trail. One poorly planted step on a curb or a tree root could lead to a sprained ankle or a stubbed toe. The sun could be mercilessly fierce; the biting wind could pierce your layers of clothing and numb your limbs. Your body might simply not be “in the zone” that morning.

What you can learn to control, however, is your selfish will that prefers the lazy way. You could easily yield to the interior discouragement underlying the intense pleasure of hitting the snooze button before the run even begins. You could cut short the run, opting for the alluring coffee break instead of breaking a sweat. But you could, of course, learn to resist such temptations and propel yourself forward thanks to those negative thoughts. You also have the privilege of talking to God in the silence generated by the harmony of the fast-beating heart and the rhythmic sequence of inhaled and exhaled breaths.

Granted all those internal life lessons, though, the individual on the path is an insufficient metaphor for the spiritual life. No one, after all, is an isolated monad jogging alone down the path of life, training the body merely for the physical health benefits and personal achievement. The cross-country team is, I think, the proper model for the metaphor of the great journey of life. On the team, you always train for and run your own race, and yet you never run alone.

This fact is reinforced by the quote inscribed on a rock near the bridge leading to the no-longer-hidden field and our new cross-country trail: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the Pioneer and Perfecter of Faith.” (Hebrews 12:1-2)

“The race” is the translation of the Greek word agōn. This is the root of our English word “agony,” but it describes a contest, a competitive game. In the spiritual life, the race entails the agonizing effort to conquer the self and to share in the life of Christ, the victor over sin and death, as well as His body, the Church.

The communal sense of the Church is represented by the great “cloud of witnesses” cheering us on. The saints, who have already run the race of faith that Christ himself traced out for them, accompany and encourage us with their prayers. The greatest athletes of the Church are the literal “witnesses” to Christ: the martyrs, those men and women who earned a glory far greater than Phidippides did upon his death after the original marathon.

The saints remind us that our own race toward holiness is, both collective and individually, “marked out for us.” We do not determine or create the path we are to take; true freedom lies, paradoxically, in obedience to the will of Christ, who calls each of us to a unique path of sanctity. The saints have already trodden the path of holiness; and while the race of life is common to all, each saint (past, present, and future) takes a proper path that runs to the leader and goal of all life, Christ Himself. Running for and toward Christ means that we run our respective races together, with the graced assurance that we never run alone. •