Un-Christlike Habit

Last weekend I ran the Marathon Park Prep Half marathon as part of my Boston Marathon training. It was a hilly and challenging course, but I had a really good run.

There were a number of factors that helped. For starters, I'm usually not that great about reading elevation charts; but this time, not only was I able to assess which miles would be generally uphill, I was also able to tell that the uphill just past the 10 mile marker was very steep so I was mentally prepared and I think that made a difference overall. It also turned out to be a great day for running: cool air but sunny. It had felt windy when I first checked outside, but the course must have been somewhat sheltered because I only felt a head wind along a short stretch of the course, which was nice. Finally, I just felt good that day. When I got up that morning, I could feel I would have a good run. I felt prepped, strong, and just ready to go.

As I crossed the finish line, I checked my time and was pleased to see I had broken my half marathon personal record. I got my medal and was feeling pretty happy as I walked to my car to go home. (Check here for a race report)

And then, the inevitable seemed to happen. I was driving, thinking back to the race, to the run, and soon started to wonder: "did I push enough? maybe I could have pushed harder. I mean, I really slowed down on that uphill and probably could have put a little more effort. Did I run at a half marathon pace/effort or a marathon pace/effort?" As these thoughts flooded my mind, I began to feel deflated, to feel that I had done ok, but could have done better.

But fortunately, I realized what I was doing and stopped myself, stopped thinking about these questions that I can't answer anyway, and allowed myself to enjoy the moment.

I'm not sure why I do this, but I know I'm not the only one who does: I do something and then look back, and maybe I enjoy an initial sense of accomplishment, but it doesn't take long before I start zeroing in on mistakes, or areas in need of improvement, and if I can't zero in on any of those two then I make stuff up that maybe, possibly, could be improved, but really, who knows if that's truly possible. Of course, it's not a bad thing to want to improve, to want to be better. But it does become a bad habit when the quest for improvement distorts reality by magnifying mistakes or aspects that could have been better and minimizing areas of success and accomplishment rather then allowing us to look at both of these with a sense of balance and perspective that is truer to what we've actually done. After all, the spiritual life is about truth and this scrupulous second-guessing doesn't exactly yield a true picture of ourselves.

Lent is a time to look at our un-Christlike habits and seek to change them. This would be a nice one to get a grip on. How? One of the things I know people try to focus on for Lent is kindness: be kind to others. Maybe some of us need to include ourselves in that and remember to be kind to ourselves too. When we look back on our day, on the things we've done or haven't done, to look first with kindness and a smile. After all, that's how I imagine Christ looks first.