Pastor Myers, why do you run?" Good question. First, let's be clear. I am not a runner. I am 6' 2", 230 lbs. Some might call me a Clydesdale, but no one would ever confuse me with a runner. The charts suggest I am just over the line for obesity. My doctor believes I should weigh around 180 lbs. I would be happy at 200 -210. There is no poetic license lenient enough to call me a runner. To do so is simply a bald face lie. So, whatever we call it, why do I do it? Good question.
There is the weight issue. Depending on the weather, I am usually able to start running in February. Depending on my schedule, I am usually able to continue running through September or October. Those eight or nine months of running usually offset the extra weight I put on over the winter. So, while I can't get down to my optimal weight, I at least stay in a manageable range.
Related to the weight issue are a host of other health issues. In my work with the presbytery, I have seen what can happen to ministers who do not take care of themselves physically. The stress of ministry can manifest itself in many destructive ways. Running is one of the ways I have found to manage that stress.
There is the Bix. About 18 years ago, I started running this seven mile race, up and down the hills of Davenport to prove a point. As a kid who was always one of the slowest in the class, my family nickname was "Flopper" or "The Flop" for short. While no one will ever confuse me with a runner, there is some poetic justice for "The Flop" to run and finish this race at 47, while a lot of folks his age, including his younger brothers, aren't able to find their way to the start, let alone the finish line. So, while I don't enjoy it and it isn't pretty, there are many good reasons why I run.
For many years, like the Apostle Paul, I used my running as a metaphor for the life of faith. The themes of discipline and perseverance seemed apropos. Entering the big post race party at the end of the Bix, with the music and food and endorphins, seemed a little like what it must feel like to walk through the gates of heaven.
However, at some point, I realized, while the life of faith does require intentionality, discipline and perseverance, there is also great joy, not only in the end, but each and every day. So running, at least the way I do it, is no longer a viable metaphor for the life of faith I enjoy.
People of faith, as you consider your lives and the faith you live, I would encourage you to make sure joy is a part of it. Not simply the far off joy of an eternity lived in the presence of God's love, but the daily joy of knowing each and every step of your life is in the company of Jesus Christ.
