Get Zloty! -- The Argument for My Immersion

Almost two years ago, I wrote about trust.  In my post "Slower, Slower", I pointed out how, in committing to a run training schedule written by someone else, you are placing your trust in their expertise and admitting the limitation of your own.  I went on to discuss how this is similarly true to the religious walk.  Wisdom comes from those wiser than ourselves, plain and simple.  In my running life, this has often meant that I have needed to slow down – to pace myself so that I can endure longer or develop more fully.

Each year, I try to take a couple days to run at the beach to ask God for my marching orders for the year to come.  And so, when I was at Myrtle Beach last weekend, I set out on a run to ask for divine direction.  When I used to run infrequently, it was easy for me to be God-focused while I was running.  As I have developed as a runner, I have found it more difficult to pray or really have any “focus” at all.  In running, I tend to become devoid of selfhood.  (It is easy to see how the Japanese have developed a tradition of “moving meditation” that includes such things as raking rocks, archery, flower arranging, etc.)  Nonetheless, I did my best to entreat God for direction. 

My prevailing thought during long runs tends to be “get zloty!”  What I have found is that, when I need to pull back my heart rate just a bit on a long run, there is a “slot” that I can find in which I can put slightly less effort into my motions, thereby becoming marginally more efficient in my running.  When my heart rate monitor tells me to decrease my effort, my practice of running has allowed me to quickly find my “slot” where I can maintain my speed but lower my heart rate.  (“Zloty” is a tip of my cap to my dear friend Chris Coffman, who once brought me an already scratched lottery ticket back from a trip Poland.  Their currency was then the złoty.  I liked the word, and it has stuck with me.  Chris’s father passed away last night, and my heart aches for his loss.)

My “slot,” it occurred to me, was discovered as a function of trust for coach Roy Benson, who wrote the book that has been my primary guide in developing as a runner.  I have renewed my trust in this guy hundreds of times over the last couple years, and my calendar is often literally built around his advice.  And this is a guy I’ve never met.  As someone who is acutely aware of how my running life and my religious life inform each other, it begs the question: must not I put the same kind of trust in my religious leaders? 

The one area of friction, for lack of a better word, between myself and the leaders of my church has been around the issue of baptism by immersion.  I was raised in a protestant church and I was baptized by sprinkling as an infant.  I am now a member of an evangelical church which baptizes only consenting believers, and baptizes by immersion.  Since my wife first introduced me to the Church of Christ, I have spent a good deal of spiritual effort in determining my relationship to baptism.  I have scoured scripture, engaged in numerous discussions, and taken a winnowing fork to my soul to find answers. 

My working answer has been: I am right with God.  There is no necessary condition that remains unmet that keeps me from the blessed assurance afforded me by scripture.  Moreover, scripture is clear in the commandment to “honor thy father and thy mother.”  To undergo “re-baptism” by immersion might possibly be construed as a dishonor to my parents.  Therefore, other things being equal, I will not be immersed – at least, not while my parents walk with the living.  Yes, it may keep me from being totally accepted by my church, and thus keep me from being fully involved with the church – but we must all work out our own salvation with fear and trembling, and I am convinced of my salvation.

That answer has worked for a while.  But, ultimately, it is a child’s answer.  Furthermore, it hinges on a number of flawed premises.  It became clear to me on my run last week that I needed to change my answer.

Before my run, I read the book of Galatians.  It was Galatians 5 that would come home to roost:

5 For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.

² Look: I, Paul, say to you that if you accept circumcision, Christ will be of no advantage to you. ³ I testify again to every man who accepts circumcision that he is obligated to keep the whole law. ⁴ You are severed from Christ, you who would be justified by the law; you have fallen away from grace. ⁵ For through the Spirit, by faith, we ourselves eagerly wait for the hope of righteousness. ⁶ For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything, but only faith working through love.

⁷You were running well. Who hindered you from obeying the truth? ⁸ This persuasion is not from him who calls you. ⁹ A little leaven leavens the whole lump.

It was this passage that would later occur to me to undermine my old answer.  I cannot appeal to the Law to find my defense in an answer to the question of baptism.  To bind myself to “honor thy father and thy mother” is to submit myself to a yoke of slavery.

For whatever reason, the song “Just as I Am, Without One Plea” continued to echo through my mind.  I don’t know that I’ve even heard this song in the last ten years, but the Spirit seemed to be calling me to these lyrics.  Am I looking to invoke a plea to the Lord?  It seems that, indeed, my old “working answer” was precisely that: the plea of a logical argument.  It’s not bad logic, I might argue – but it is an attempt to rationalize my relationship with the Lord.  It becomes all the more so when I think about how much time and attention the question of baptism has required of me and others over the past several years.  Again, let’s say my logic is sound, and that I really have no need to be immersed in baptism at this point.  But what of the effect is has on my relationship with my church?  Is it acceptable to voluntarily affix an asterisk to my role in the church, or to limit the manner in which I may serve?  Perhaps as a child, it is acceptable.  As a fully engaged adult member of a church community, though: I think not.

It’s as clear as day in scripture itself, too.  Not the mode of baptism; there are sound readings of scriptures in support of both doctrines.  Rather, it is clear that parental devotion is not supposed to inhibit our spiritual growth.  Quite the contrary, in fact.  What does Jesus say about clinging to parents rather than following him?  “Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me” in Matthew 10. In Mark 10: “No one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel, will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age.”  In Luke 14: “If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters – yes, even their own life – such a person cannot be my disciple.”  That last passage is a particularly controversial one; but I think no possible interpretation of Jesus’ meaning can support my old argument that “honor thy father and thy mother” should in any way stand between me and being fully involved with my church.

Further, let me look at the issue of honor.  I was raised in a church-going family by parents that were consistently involved with the church.  Most of their best friends have come into their lives through churches.  To this day, many of the visitors that they entertain in South Carolina are dear friends from a church they attended thirty years ago.  Do I do them greater honor by adhering the letter of their teaching or by following the model they set out for me?  Should one issue of doctrine keep me from being a fully realized Christian man?  That’s not honor; it’s ancestor worship.  It’s choosing death over life, the past over the future.  I love my parents; they taught me what it is to love and honor and respect.  But was the model of love I learned from them shown by them venerating their parents, or instead by how they love each other, their church friends, and their God?  Indeed, I think to be immersed at this point, rather than being a rejection of my parents’ teachings, is rather an affirmation that I am following their example.

It is indeed well to work out one’s own salvation with fear and trembling.  However, that’s not the whole Christian calling.  Our cause is not so self-centered as that.  We are called to be outwardly-directed.  We are called to put others before ourselves.  We are called to humble ourselves before God and man.  I can think of scarcely any better way for me to humble myself than to be immersed before my congregation – to be buried with Christ anew. 

And so, it is my intention to take the plunge.  I hope to be immersed at the Clemson Church of Christ on Sunday, September 15^th.  May my walk with God continue to become deeper and may my relationships on this earth be made richer as I submit myself anew to Father, Son, and Spirit.

No Tomorrow - Part 2

“Just promise me that you won’t die.”

“I promise!  I promise!”

When I told Julie that I wouldn’t die, I was thinking about the physical toll that running two races in the same day could have on the body.  While I’ve not yet run a marathon, I’ve never gotten to the end of a race at the absolute bottom of my energy tank.  It surely seems reasonable to tack on a few extra miles after a race.  I wasn’t thinking about getting run over by a train.

~~

The joy of speed was what sent me down this path.  But it’s not just that it feels good to run fast; it feels great to run faster than somebody else.  I still remember the end of that race a year ago -- my game changer -- so well.  I had run at a moderate, even slow, pace.  Of course, those finishing with me had run at a similarly slow pace.  But another runner and I decided to tear it up at the end.  I went to pass her, but she didn’t want to be passed.  I stepped it up; I still had plenty left in my tank at the end of the “fun run.”  But apparently, so did she.  So, for the last quarter mile of the race, she and I were sprinting right next to each other, neither of us wanting to give in.  I got a step on her right at the end, and I beat her.  It was exhilarating.

That race changed me.  It awakened a competitiveness in me that I had not before known in my running.

Competitiveness is a mighty beast.  I suppose the progress of the world would be much slower without the drive that makes us want to do better than someone else, or perhaps better for someone else.  I wasn’t sure if I would be writing this piece yesterday or today.  Yesterday morning, I ran my usual morning run.   When I have specific goals for a run, I vary my course a bit to suit it -- but generally, I run the exact same route every time I head out.  I’ve run it hundreds of times in the last three years.  It suits my needs and I know it well.  When I’m running according to a training schedule, I generally have to pace myself to keep my heart rate near a specific threshold.  But when I’m “off the clock,” as I have been lately, I feel free to run it however I wish.  Of the hundreds of times that I’ve run that route, yesterday was my fastest time to date.  Why?  Mostly, it’s because I keep getting faster as I run more intensely.  But also, I knew that I’d be writing this.  I wanted to let you know that, yesterday, I got my PR.  Well, I didn’t get this written yesterday.  Today?  A new PR -- seven seconds per mile faster than yesterday.

My running mantra used to be, “Press on like Paul!” with specific reference to Philippians 3:13-14: “Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of G-d in Christ Jesus.”  That’s a good verse to keep you running from an endurance perspective.  But does Paul say, “Just do your best.  Run the race for yourself.  Really, just finishing the race is the goal.  So press on!”  No.  Decidedly not.  Paul elsewhere says, “Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it.” (1 Corinthians 9:24).  Granted, he was using a metaphor.  Still, it is hard to read that and the verses that follow it and not stand convicted.  If you’re going to race, run to win.

I have taken a different mantra for racing: “No tomorrow.”  There’s no point in holding anything back when you are in a race for which you’ve been training.  Better leave it all out there.  Otherwise, regret may follow you afterwards.

As I ran the Greer Earth Day Half Marathon, I felt very good about my progress.  I had learned a number of ways to gain or keep an advantage on other racers, and was putting my mind and my body to good work.  I’ve learned that I tend to run faster when I’ve got headphones on.  There’s something about driving beats keeping their persistent tempo in your ears.  It keeps your pace up, and it distracts you from the other things you might hear: heart beating, breath drawing, feet pounding.  Music changes your focus just enough to be a welcome diversion during a hard run.  I was running well.  There were a number of challenging hills on the course.  Just before the 11-mile mark, I crossed a bridge, and was running pretty hard downhill of the back side of it.  Then I noticed the arms of a railroad crossing in front of me starting to flash their red lights.

I kept running as the arms lowered.  I could see the train coming down the track.  My brain was working furiously but it was revving in neutral.  The beat of the music kept pounding its techco “thud. thud. thud.”  A couple runners in front of me stopped in front of the almost fully lowered arms of the track crossing.  I had to decide.  Look again.  There’s no time to look.  Gotta stop.  Probably.  “Thud. thud. thud.”  I’m running too well to want to deal with a setback like this.  If I can beat the train, I’ll get an advantage on these guys.  I can make it.  “Thud. thud. thud.”  I dodge underneath the railroad crossing arm, running as fast as I can.  I look briefly to my right as I cross the tracks.  Man, that train is really hauling.  It’s a lot closer than I thought.  I get to the other side but hadn’t thought about the other arm.  I make a leap to my right, move forward, and I’m on my way.

Another hundred feet up the road and I look back.  The thing was only three or four cars long.  The path is clear.  The other runners continue on their course.

I didn’t get hit.  But the image of that train bearing down on me stuck with me for the remainder of the race.  Wow, that was the stupidest thing that I’ve done in a long time.  That was really stupid.  What if I’d tripped crossing those tracks?  I’m used to running around cars, but cars can evade you by slowing down or turning a little bit.  A train can’t do that.  Man, how stupid was that?  Ok, I’ve got to finish this race strong.  No tomorrow.  No tomorrow.

With that, I decided that I shouldn’t run the 5k that evening.

No Tomorrow - Part 1

When I last posted to this blog, just about a year ago, it was in the wake of RunWalkAdopt 2012, and I wrote about my first taste of the thrill of speed.  A lot has changed since then -- in my running life and in my life itself.  In fact, there is no separate “running life” from “other life” for me any more so than there is a separate “spiritual life” and “work life.”  What occupies the mind, occupies the spirit, occupies the body.  Do I digress?  I think not.  Telling the story of my running is telling my life story.  And I think that’s what any blog is really about.

Up until RunWalkAdopt 2012, my running had been focused entirely on increasing my endurance.  But training to increase endurance is quite different than the process of developing speed.  By no means can I say that I am done with the process of endurance training.  I have not yet even run a marathon, and I have longer-term goals of running in at least a couple ultramarathons.  It occurred to me, though, that speed is of the essence of running.  Does my three-year-old know the joy of running?  Certainly.  But his joy does not hinge on how far he can locomote.  It is about breaking free from his ordinary self.  It feels good to run because we are accustomed to walking.

So I set out to get faster.  I would no longer approach 5k races as “fun runs” that I would enter without care or consequence.  I would train for them, and in doing so, I would invest meaning in the races.  And so, for the better part of the last year, I have been engaged in one training program or another in attempt to increase my speed.  At some point in the process, I came to realize that, if I were to lose weight, I would be able to run faster, and so I set out to become leaner.  I have lost quite a bit of superfluous weight in effort to better my running pace.

My most recent goal race was the St. Patty’s Day Dash and Bash on March 16, 2013.  I really like having a target race right around the corporate tax deadline.  It helps me to make time to maintain my body for the first couple months of busy season, and then grants me more flexibility of time and the possibility of another gear going into the stretch to April 15.  After any goal race, though, I am faced with a sort of vacuum of time & direction.  I spend so much time diligently following a structured schedule, but then find myself at the threshold of the unknown once the date -- the date that had been my focus for weeks and months theretofore -- has passed.  There is no wane after the long wax.

I have been through this cycle several times, now, and know well enough to expect vacuity of direction following a race.  I’ve tried several different ways to move through the uncertain and unstructured time (which really only lasts until I am 14-weeks out from the next race I target).  I get so used to racing -- my 5k training schedule has six practice races prior to the goal race -- that it’s natural to continue seeking them out, even if they don’t fall on a pre-ordained day on a training schedule.  I’m used to knowing what races are on the horizon and, generally, try to run in as many of them as I can.

When I saw RunWalkAdopt 2013 on the calendar, I was the first one to sign up for it.  It was scheduled for April 20, which worked perfectly with my working & personal calendar.  It was probably mid-February when I signed up for it.  As the days drew closer, though -- and especially after my St. Patty’s Day goal race had come and gone -- I was itching for something more.  I really wanted to run another half marathon.  And so I combed through the several websites and their calendars that advertise upcoming races.  I found a half marathon, and it came at the perfect time on my personal & work schedule: April 20.  I initially, somewhat regretfully, excluded the chance at the April 20 half, which was the Greer Earth Day Run.  But one day, while posting on the Facebook wall of a friend of mine about upcoming races, I came up with the idea: Why not run them both?  The half was a morning race, and the 5k was in the evening.  If I really wanted a novel challenge, indeed: Why not try to get personal records in both 5k and half marathon on the same day?  I had become faster than ever.  Why not give it a shot?

First, I had to find out if my wife thought that my idea was crazy or stupid.  I ran it by her, and, while I’m sure she wasn’t thrilled with it, she gave me the green light.  “Just promise me that you won’t die,” she texted me. “I promise!  I promise!” I responded immediately, whereupon I logged on & signed up for the Greer Earth Day half marathon.