Lessons from a duathlon

      

How do they apply to my spiritual life?

It is cool this morning under the clear, summer sky in Summerside, Prince Edward Island. We are here along the harbor to see my cousin, Warren, compete in a duathlon. Today, he is opting out of the most dangerous part of a triathlon – the swimming – and focusing on the running and biking.

It’s all new to me. But I’ve wanted to see him in one of his races, and I’ve had the Maritime provinces in my sights, wishing to retrace the trip I took with my family as a boy. This was the perfect doubling up.

 

Multiple races overlap each other. Warren’s event starts, and as his unofficial photographer, I’m eager to capture him in action – if possible, with the moored boats as a backdrop.

Throughout the race, Warren is even paced, controlled, determined. There’s no way from a viewer’s perspective to know how well he’s doing as he shifts from running to biking and back again. He seems to exist in his own world, pressing on oblivious to our cheers.

Eventually he crosses the finish line. He’s quite happy with his time – his personal best by a second or so. He placed fourth overall – against much younger competition – and first in his age group, qualifying him for Worlds! (I wonder: is there a Worlds competition for observant walks?)

This brings to mind Paul’s analogy of running:

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. (1 Cor. 9:24-25)

Run in such a way as to get the prize. I decide to ask Warren about his preparation, to see what principles might apply to spiritual discipline.

One practice intrigues me. In his routine of running, he keeps a comfortable pace on most days. But once a week, he pushes himself to the limit. Whether it’s endurance or speed, the days of higher-level challenge are concentrated and intentionally spaced.

I wonder what that would look like in a spiritual discipline. In our pursuit of the eternal crown, should we have one day a week when we stretch ourselves to take on a spiritual challenge, pushing out of our normal routine and comfortable pace?

What would that look like?

Perhaps, that’s what the Lord’s Day should be -- letting worship or a sermon be a call to think more deeply. Maybe it’s planning to tackle a challenging book on theology or Christian practice once a week, leaving time to process in-between. Or could it be that our day of hard training takes us out to do a more demanding service or to share the gospel?

However that might play out, Paul reminds us: every runner goes into strict training. We see each day through this purpose of living fully for Christ. That one intense day a week presumes a normal level of push the other six.

I’m so impressed by how my cousin has trained his body to a peak level of performance. What would it look like for me to be spiritual fit?

Lord, we take seriously our commitment to you, knowing what you have done for us to even be in the race. Help us to see all of life as a training ground for our devotion to you.

Reader: if you were to emulate this “one-intense-day-a-week” approach to your devotional life, what would you add on the challenge day?