One Runner's Journal of Misadventures
Never be ashamed of small beginnings.
A recent illness and subsequent recovery from said illness brought this phrase to mind in the form of a three-mile walk-jog-shuffle. I am in the midst of marathon training. Just eight days before the shuffle in question, I had logged a solid twenty-four mile run and felt great. Strong. Confident. Then came the illness, an inordinate amount of time spent on the couch watching National Geographic documentaries, and the complete deterioration of my physical endurance. It was a phenomenon really. Just one week after cruising two dozen lovely Saturday morning miles, I found myself barely able to walk-jog-shuffle three.
And let me emphasize barely.
While I am proud to say I now know more about deadly, flesh-eating fish in the Congo River than I ever thought possible, I was disheartened by the blow suffered by my fitness. It was like reverse alchemy. In a single week, the couch had waved its little upholstered hand and changed me from a runner to an English-speaking blob of Advil and Vic’s Vapor Rub. I was a menthol goiter on the sofa of life.
Gag.
Alas, I was grateful to be running again (heck, I was grateful just to be upright), and despite my apparent regression, I knew my fitness would return. It would just take time. Meanwhile, I felt like I was starting from square one. A really ugly square one.
But here’s the thing about square one: It’s necessary. Square one is our foundation. Square one is the tone-setter. How we handle square one determines how we handle all the other squares and quadrilaterals and polygons and geometric life metaphors that follow. If we can’t handle the first square, ain’t no way we can handle the rest of ‘em. (I was gonna preface that with, “As my ol’ Pappy used to say…” but my ol’ Pappy never said that, primarily because I don’t have an ol’ Pappy.)
I’m sorry. Where was I? (The medication hasn’t completely worked its way out of my system yet.)
Ah, yes. Small beginnings. In the midst of contemplating all things small, I was reminded of 2 Kings 5, which recounts the story of Naaman, a man who wasn’t fond of anything small and insignificant. As 2 Kings tells us, “Now Naaman was a commander of the army of the king of Aram. He was a great man in the sight of his master and highly regarded, because through him the LORD had given victory to Aram. He was a valiant solider, but he had leprosy.”
A commander of the army. A great man. Highly regarded. A valiant soldier. Naaman was a big deal. No one could deny that. There was just one catch. He had leprosy.
Not so great.
When Naaman sought healing, he approached not one but two kings (the king of Aram and the king of Israel). His was of such high standing, his illness was worthy of personal consultations with the rulers of nations. The king of Israel told Naaman to see Elisha the prophet, who could heal him. What ensued is a matter of small things.
“Elisha sent a messenger to say to him, ‘Go, wash yourself seven times in the Jordan, and your flesh will be restored and you will be cleansed.’ But Naaman went away angry and said, ‘I thought that he would surely come out to me and stand and call on the name of the LORD his God, wave his hand over the spot and cure me of my leprosy…’ So he turned and went off in a rage. Naaman’s servants went to him and said, ‘My father, if the prophet had told you to do some great thing, would you not have done it? How much more, then, when he tells you, “Wash and be cleansed!”’
The waters of the Jordan River are muddy. Not glamorous at all. Furthermore, Naaman was a man who was granted personal audience with kings. Kings. The prophet Elisha not only dared to instruct him to wash in this muddy river, but his instruction came via messenger? Naaman wasn’t even granted a personal visit?
Naaman’s pride revolted at this affront. He wanted pomp and parade and an extravagant miracle. He wanted no part of this unpretentious “walk down to the river and be healed” nonsense. He was, after all, a great man.
But Naaman’s servants understood the value of small things. They understood square one. If Naaman couldn’t even follow this simple command from the prophet, what made him think he would be given greater assignments?
Naaman’s servants succeeded in persuading their master to follow Elisha’s small command. He went to the muddy waters of the Jordan, washed, and was healed.
We all want to be great. The world worships great. Great is the apogee of description. The Great Wall of China. The Great Bambino. The Great Lakes. The Great Escape. Alexander the Great. Our vernacular is laced with exclamations of “Isn’t that great?” Or “Oh, wow, that’s great!” Great is, well, great.
But even the Great Wall of China started with one brick. And Alexander first had to tame his own horse before he was tagged with his superlative handle.
Bill Bowerman sold shoes out of the trunk of his car before anyone agreed to invest in his upstart shoe company, now commonly known as Nike. Bill Hewlett and Dave Packard tinkered around with radios in a musty attic above a garage before the letters “HP” meant anything to Silicon Valley. When HP finally did find success, Bill and Dave gave leftover electronic pieces to one of their young employees. He in turn started his own tinkering, eventually presenting the finished product to the two founders. When they rejected his idea, he left HP and took to his own garage. And there Steve Jobs created Apple.
We all want to do something great, but first we must be faithful in the little things. Every day, I am further convicted of the value of small things. Every day, I become further convinced it takes greater confidence, greater strength of character, greater single-mindedness in purpose to do the small tasks—to persevere through square one—than to put the finishing touches on our tower of achievement. After all, what is a great accomplishment other than the successful completion of a million small, unseen tasks?
My twenty-four mile run sounded impressive to the world. “Oh! You ran twenty-four miles this morning? That’s great!” My three-mile slugfest… not so much. “Oh! You walked-jogged-shuffled three miles? That’s nice.”
But guess which one was more difficult? Guess which one tested my determination and checked my pride and required not only perseverance, but unwavering confidence and faith that no matter how insignificant and unimpressive those three miles were, they were necessary to my end goal?
In order to do anything big, we must first be faithful in the small things. We must be willing to humble ourselves and wash in the muddy waters of the Jordan. Only then can we truly be great.
One word about this entry: Great!
The journal was always very good and lately it has gotten even better.
I’m glad you are enjoying the journal!
Your blog always seems to find me at just the right moment. I had an unsuccessful 5k this am and reading your thoughts really encouraged me. Thanks for putting it out there!
Whenever I had a bad race (which was quite often…) Mr. Speedy Pants would always tell me, “Look, Kid. It doesn’t matter whether you run a great race or blow up. What matters is whether or not you learned from the experience.”
I’ve had my fair share of learning experiences.
As much as they stink in the moment, they are invaluable. No race is ever wasted!
I needed to hear this.
One swift kick in the pants = great.
Me, too.