Faithbook: Treading the Fine Line - On Faith at washingtonpost.com

Treading the Fine Line

Today I was supposed to snatch my little piece of glory. At least, that was the plan. I'm the third, fourth or fifth fastest girl in my cross country club, depending on who's having a good day. Instead of resting this week, in preparation for next week's big meet, I decided to go all out and vault myself up the team's ranks. My efforts were for naught, as many of my slower teammates surged past me in the final stretches of the race.

The excuses started flowing, as I bent over in the finish chute, completely demoralized. I've had a bad cold all week. It's way too hot for November. I'm stressed about my English papers. But once I calmed down a bit, I called my high school coach for a little pep talk, and rationality soon took hold. Why was it so important for me to win? What sort of fulfillment would I gain from winning a race?

Last night we all sat around in my dorm room and talked about how we'd want to come back, if reincarnation existed. I said I'd be a wide receiver at a Division I school. Those guys are the epitome of cool. I'd swagger around campus and make sure to wear my Nike gear to class so everyone would know I was an athlete. The cabinets at my apartment would be stocked with every flavor of protein shake mix. My life would be measured in catches, yards, touchdowns and headlines. How can I want this, when just a few posts ago I vehemently advocated for Christian humility?

Everyone's lined up in front of the free weights. Treading the fine line between self improvement and self worship, I watch my muscles swell and veins pop as I churn out another set. When the hours worrying about the body outnumber the hours thinking about God tenfold--that is over the line. When I skip church to squeeze in a Sunday long run--that is over the line. When I end a race in tears because I didn't meet my goal--that is over the line, and defeats the purpose of running all together. Caring for one's physical well-being can be a form of prayer in itself. But the athlete must remember that the source of all strength, speed and power is God, and each race and each game is a testament not to man's glory, but to that higher source.

So I had a bad race, grumbled all day, and later went for a run on one of our campus trails just to get my head on straight. I thought of my mom's classic response, whenever I was down after a meet in high school. "Just be glad you have legs!" They may not be the legs of a Division I wide receiver, but God willing they will carry me through many more runs, for His glory, not mine.

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Treading the Fine Line