I rarely believe anyone that tell me they actually had fun during a 5K cross-country race, unless they ran in a “fun run,” which are usually geared toward middle-aged moms and old hairy men reliving their glory days, except in shorter shorts. Don’t get me wrong-I think fun runs are great. But they hardly resemble a collegiate race where there’s always a welcome mat of vomit at the finish line from runners pushing themselves to their absolute limit.
No, college cross-country races are hardly ever fun. After the race is fun, but only after the feeling of nausea and the extreme muscle fatigue subsides enough to feel proud of your accomplishment-and relieved that it’s over. Really, the whole task of running a race is fighting the urge to stop running; it’s an act of resistance, and it’s extremely mental.
Almost everything we choose to resist takes at least some level of mental strength. But often times, nature takes control and wins over our immortal, human selves. For example, it’s easy to fight the urge to sleep for a time with heavily caffeinated energy drinks and triple espressos, but with every high there is always a crash. Eventually, nature takes over and sleep descends upon every insomniac and medical school student desperately trying to stay awake.
Similarly, runners who exert themselves to the maximum of their abilities will eventually grow weary and collapse. An experienced runner knows how to give a race everything they have, but if they choose to do so, they will collapse at the end nonetheless.
Clearly, the act of resistance can take many forms. And since resistance is synonymous with defiance, there are a multitude of spiritual and intellectual questions that arise.
What does it mean to resist God? Is it simply a passive act of running away, of not stepping foot in a church, of plugging your ears when someone speaks about their faith? Or is it more involved than that? I think it’s a lot more complex than one might think.
We are all searching for truth, for proof that what we believe is right. But often times, the attempt to disprove a certain belief becomes far more important. It’s usually our dislikes that define us most: the kind of music we hate, the food we think is disgusting, the political views or beliefs of others we don’t agree with.
It’s exhausting. It’s almost as if the more we try to resist something, the more we are shaken up. It’s inevitable that stronger resistance requires that much more mental strength. In terms of beliefs, it means tougher opposition and amplified defiance against whatever it is you are trying to disprove. Physical exhaustion eventually causes a runner to collapse, and sleep eventually comes to those who are fighting it.
Can the same idea be applied to running away from God? Actively resisting God is, from personal experience, hard work. In order for this to happen, there first must be belief that there is a God, you say. I would disagree. You can read thousands of books scientifically and historically “disproving” that God exists. You can sip tea with world scholars and laugh about the stupidity of believing in God, which is clearly just a crutch for the weak. You can even study the Bible and highlight all the things you don’t understand that sound like contradictions.
But in the end, if God truly does exist, every individual who personally denies God’s existence is simply wrong. It does matter how actively you reject Him or how passionately you dismiss Him. Both those who passively and actively deny God would be off the mark.
Running away is running away- no matter how fast you go, how mentally strong you are, or how much you have trained. In the end, none of us can escape the laws of nature; we will all eventually collapse whether it’s in the middle of the race or at the finish line. It’s only after it’s all said and done that the celebration can truly begin; all the pain, the mental battles, the torment is finally over. You don’t have to run anymore.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
What are we waiting for?
Outside of Zara, one of the most popular Spanish clothing stores, there’s a woman who kneels on the pavement every day with her head bowed. She has a little cardboard sign asking for money to help care for her children. And everyday, she wears the same turtleneck sweater and puffy gray vest. She looks to be in her mid-forties, wears glasses on a chain around her neck, and has short brown hair peppered with gray.
At first, this woman annoyed me. I really don’t know whether or not she is one of the panhandlers that has a house and plenty of food waiting for her after her day job of sitting on the street. I’ve heard about lots of panhandlers in the US who are not homeless, and simply work the streets in search of a little extra cash. So I couldn’t help but pass the same judgment on this woman. ‘What right does she have to sit on the street and beg?’ I thought every time I passed her on my way to and from class.
But then, little by little, my attitude about this woman began to change. A couple times a week, I wake up at seven and meet Tim downtown in front of Burger King to go on a run. It takes me exactly six minutes to run from my apartment to our meeting place. To get there I run right past Zara, and the same woman is always there, waiting for the sun to come up.
It got me thinking about what it means to wait for something- whether it’s a day’s worth of spare change or a hefty paycheck. It can easily be argued that all this lady does all day is sit and beg, but personally I’ve never tried it. I have a feeling it’s not the easiest thing in the world, especially in a country where your “street self” is extremely important. For example, all the women here dress up to simply go run errands: even if people are poor, they always appear in public smartly dressed and well-groomed. Culturally, there is much more emphasis is placed on appearance in order to be socially accepted in Spain.
This woman wears the same thing everyday. I can’t help but wonder what she must be feeling as she sits there. She must be embarrassed, even if only a little, to not have more clothes to wear. Her knees must ache from kneeling for so long, and her neck must be stiff from looking at her lap for hours on end. And I’m sure in the past she’s been mistreated, or stepped on, maybe even spit on. In this woman’s case, waiting is not easy. I wonder, when she’s kneeling there with her head bent, if she’s praying. Maybe she’s praying for the day to be over so she can be with her children and out of the public eye.
I can’t easily relate to this woman. The only time I’ve every waited for anything while sitting on the street is for a parade to start. And the only time I’ve ever worn the same thing two days in a row is while camping. But one thing I can relate to is waiting for something. I’m always thinking of the future, whether it’s one hour later or a ten years down the road. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for me: what job I will someday have, where I will live, and what kind of person I will be.
In my life, waiting for is often pretty easy: I have a pile of things to do everyday- papers to write, races to run, friends and family to spend time with. Sometimes I get into the mindset that sitting around and sitting still is the equivalent of sitting on my dreams. How can I ever get anything accomplished if I am not constantly working toward my goals? It’s almost as if the idea of waiting for what the future holds has been repackaged and sold as precious time to shape whatever future I want for myself.
Is there anything wrong with this? Putting all this pressure on myself and being completely goal oriented may make time go by a lot faster- at least a lot faster than kneeling on the pavement all day.
But I’ve come to realize that I am no better than the woman on the street because of how I choose to spend my time compared to how she chooses to spend hers. In fact, I think I could use a little more waiting in my life and a lot less “doing.”
Both my faith and my intellect have taught me that my life isn’t mine to shape. Yes, I am responsible for my actions, for working hard and reaching my goals. But it’s not a one-woman show. Who knows what will happen in the next hour, the next day, the next month? A huge, life-shattering natural disaster may strike tomorrow and then we would all be left with nothing. Or would we?
Maybe what we think of as “nothing” really should be our “everything.” Maybe kneeling on the ground to pray and to wait isn’t a waste of time at all, but a lifeline. A hope. A future.
At first, this woman annoyed me. I really don’t know whether or not she is one of the panhandlers that has a house and plenty of food waiting for her after her day job of sitting on the street. I’ve heard about lots of panhandlers in the US who are not homeless, and simply work the streets in search of a little extra cash. So I couldn’t help but pass the same judgment on this woman. ‘What right does she have to sit on the street and beg?’ I thought every time I passed her on my way to and from class.
But then, little by little, my attitude about this woman began to change. A couple times a week, I wake up at seven and meet Tim downtown in front of Burger King to go on a run. It takes me exactly six minutes to run from my apartment to our meeting place. To get there I run right past Zara, and the same woman is always there, waiting for the sun to come up.
It got me thinking about what it means to wait for something- whether it’s a day’s worth of spare change or a hefty paycheck. It can easily be argued that all this lady does all day is sit and beg, but personally I’ve never tried it. I have a feeling it’s not the easiest thing in the world, especially in a country where your “street self” is extremely important. For example, all the women here dress up to simply go run errands: even if people are poor, they always appear in public smartly dressed and well-groomed. Culturally, there is much more emphasis is placed on appearance in order to be socially accepted in Spain.
This woman wears the same thing everyday. I can’t help but wonder what she must be feeling as she sits there. She must be embarrassed, even if only a little, to not have more clothes to wear. Her knees must ache from kneeling for so long, and her neck must be stiff from looking at her lap for hours on end. And I’m sure in the past she’s been mistreated, or stepped on, maybe even spit on. In this woman’s case, waiting is not easy. I wonder, when she’s kneeling there with her head bent, if she’s praying. Maybe she’s praying for the day to be over so she can be with her children and out of the public eye.
I can’t easily relate to this woman. The only time I’ve every waited for anything while sitting on the street is for a parade to start. And the only time I’ve ever worn the same thing two days in a row is while camping. But one thing I can relate to is waiting for something. I’m always thinking of the future, whether it’s one hour later or a ten years down the road. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for me: what job I will someday have, where I will live, and what kind of person I will be.
In my life, waiting for is often pretty easy: I have a pile of things to do everyday- papers to write, races to run, friends and family to spend time with. Sometimes I get into the mindset that sitting around and sitting still is the equivalent of sitting on my dreams. How can I ever get anything accomplished if I am not constantly working toward my goals? It’s almost as if the idea of waiting for what the future holds has been repackaged and sold as precious time to shape whatever future I want for myself.
Is there anything wrong with this? Putting all this pressure on myself and being completely goal oriented may make time go by a lot faster- at least a lot faster than kneeling on the pavement all day.
But I’ve come to realize that I am no better than the woman on the street because of how I choose to spend my time compared to how she chooses to spend hers. In fact, I think I could use a little more waiting in my life and a lot less “doing.”
Both my faith and my intellect have taught me that my life isn’t mine to shape. Yes, I am responsible for my actions, for working hard and reaching my goals. But it’s not a one-woman show. Who knows what will happen in the next hour, the next day, the next month? A huge, life-shattering natural disaster may strike tomorrow and then we would all be left with nothing. Or would we?
Maybe what we think of as “nothing” really should be our “everything.” Maybe kneeling on the ground to pray and to wait isn’t a waste of time at all, but a lifeline. A hope. A future.
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