A Reflection for Wednesday of the Twenty-First Week in Ordinary Time
Find today’s readings here.
“Where can I go from your spirit?
From your presence where can I flee?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I sink to the nether world, you are present there.” (Ps 139:7-8, 9-10, 11-12ab)
At some point in our spiritual journeys, we’ve likely tried to part ways with God. Like a child who threatens to run away from home after fighting with their parents, when we experience disillusionment in our relationship with God, we hatch an escape plan to distance ourselves from him. But no matter how hard we try, we can’t outrun God.
My parents encouraged me to start running track in the seventh grade. This led to a nine-year long dedication to the sport, all the way up to the collegiate level. My most formative years as a runner were under coach Patrick Dormer at Xavier High School, who selected a Bible verse for the back of our warmup shirts every cross country season.
During my senior year, Mr. Dormer picked a passage from the First Epistle to Timothy: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Timothy 4:7). Before every race, I would cement this quote in my brain, recounting it while battling up the hills of Van Cortlandt Park, doubting if my stamina could take me to the finish line. I went on to crush personal bests throughout the season, continuing to run the good race and keep the faith.
Runners often talk about experiencing a “high” during moments where their cadence becomes more euphoric with each step. For me, this high became spiritual; my athletic prowess felt like I was running because that’s what God put me on earth to do.
When it comes to God, there’s only one direction to run—toward him, ready to have him help us “finish the race”—even if he needs to carry us to the finish line.
Fast forward to December of 2022, and after undergoing an MRI, I was diagnosed with chronic Achilles tendonitis, making me unable to compete in my final season of collegiate track. This was the final nail in the coffin for my competitive running career, as I struggled to nurture and strengthen the athletic form that I developed in high school, dealing with injuries and mental barriers all throughout college.
I grew angry with God for taking such an integral part of who I was away from me. It felt like a cruel joke to feel such pain every time I tried to run, something that had brought me so much joy before. As a result, with whatever I had left in my spiritual legs, I tried running away from him for a while.
Like running, Xavier helped me to cultivate another formative aspect of my spiritual life in the Kairos and Magis retreat programs. I cherished these retreat experiences, one key reason being that they offered me time to clear my mind and step away from the everyday anxieties that we have—something that running offered me as well.
I fell out of partaking in retreats like this during college because my busy schedule as a student athlete wouldn’t permit me to miss practices or meets. As a result, in addition to my slumping performances, I felt like my running was distancing me from God instead of bringing me closer to him as it once did.
While processing my Achilles injury, I received an email that there were limited spots remaining on a five-day silent retreat modeled after the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. While I brushed the email aside at first, for whatever reason, I decided to return to it. I felt called to embark on this experience even though I was harboring negative feelings toward God for taking the joy of running away from me; I could feel God’s gravitational pull wrangling me back in while I was trying to evade him.
As a result of the Exercises, I had an incredibly renewed sense of love towards God. I accepted that I could still make the most of my last semester of school while not being able to run competitively anymore. During those five days, as today’s Responsorial Psalm says, I could feel God “searching” me in that silence, feeling that I was looking for a new sense of purpose.
If it wasn’t for my injury, I may never have decided to go on that retreat which so nourished my hungry spirit. My retreat experience even introduced me to America when I picked up a copy of it for the first time at the retreat house. As today’s Psalm reminds us, when it comes to God, there’s only one direction to run—toward him, ready to have him help us “finish the race”—even if he needs to carry us to the finish line.
