I was originally going to write a post about how CrossFit is similar to a church community and how it takes the place of church for a lot of people, but that topic has been done to death. Google “CrossFit as church” and you’ll find a million comparisons that can be drawn: from the detailed discussion of the scripture passage (WOD/workout) to a shared communion of coconut oil and chia seeds, a lot of people are finding their religion in the body as their temple.
CrossFit is definitely not my church, but I had a spiritual experience there today. Since it’s Thursday it’s destined to be a difficult workout. Sort of that “last chance before the weekend” thing that all the rah-rah athletes get behind. In my mind all it does is make me tired and sore and ruins a perfectly good weekend, but whatever. In preparation for the pain I put on my running shoes instead of my lifting shoes this morning. Even though it’s over 100 degrees outside, there’s little chance for mercy on a Thursday. And sure enough: 5 rounds of 800 meter runs with other junk in between. For those not on the metric system, 800 meters is about 2 laps around a high school track. Not terribly far, but too far in the heat and when you can see that the exercises in-between runs are going to make your legs wobbly and tired and make running even more difficult.
But off I go. I had promised a friend that I would pray for her and I realized that the running rounds would be the perfect time for prayer. I’m usually praying for myself to survive it anyway, so why not add some other people to my list? I dedicated the first round to her and the words started to flow through my head as the steps passed beneath my feet. I’ve never been a good prayer or a good runner, but this combination seems to be working. I run with my eyes closed anyway (seriously, I do — if I close my eyes then I can pretend that I’m not actually running and that I’m somewhere else more enjoyable) so all I was focused on were my thoughts of her and God’s love for her.
The second round went to Calvin, my oldest son who is traveling, playing sports, and seemed to be getting sick when I briefly talked to him the night before. I prayed for his health, for today, for his future, thanking God for making him who he is and for keeping him close . . . I covered it all (I run really slowly). Before I knew it I was back around to the start and I hadn’t even taken a walking break yet.
Rounds 3, 4 and 5 were more of the same, but along the way I felt like I was praying from my spirit. I’m usually a distracted prayer: “God please be with my kids as they are at school toda– did I remind Caleb to talk to his teacher about his missing assignments? Hmm, do they have enough lunch tickets? Crap, I’m supposed to be praying — Lord, please help them to be kind to the kids that they come in contact with and show your love to them . . . I wonder if I have time to go to the store before they get home? We are almost out of milk.” And so it goes.
But praying while running meant that if my mind wasn’t occupied by prayerful thoughts then the only thing left to think about was the pain of running and measuring how much further I had to go. I almost felt like my friend who is a true prayer warrior, who can go on and on with passion and persistence — when I pray with her I spend much of the time wondering how she can think of all those things to say and not run out of words. (I prayed for her today too!) When the choice was between thinking of other people or thinking, “one more step, one more step,” the people in my life who I love and care about were a welcome distraction.
I finished. I survived. Hopefully some people in my life have been blessed by the prayers I was able to construct through my pain. And now I need a nap. And a few Motrin. (try swinging 50 lbs from the ground to eye level 150 times and you”ll be hunting for a Motrin cocktail too. And wondering why anyone participates in this craziness.)