I've always been a runner. I've enjoyed both jogging with friends (thousands of miles with Leon in the Searcy days) and training alone in early morning hours. I've had fun with 5Ks, 10Ks, and marathons. All right, "fun" is a bit too strong a word for the marathons. But the overall experiences were fun. (Who wouldn't like running 26 miles through all five boroughs of NYC?) One year I set these goals: to run under a 19-minute 5K, under a 39-minute 10K, and under a 3:15 marathon to quality for Boston--all goals which I barely met (18:58, 38:18, and 3:14:53). But for now my calves are goofed up a bit. I think that's the official medical designation. So I climb stairs at the health club, play hoops with Chris, hike when I'm around mountains, and ride my bike. In other words, for the time being I'm not a runner. But that's hard to say. Because I've always been a runner. Does that happen a lot as you age? Are there things that get left behind that were part of your self-identity? Maybe that's why our most central identity needs to be connected with being a Christ-follower. Age can't take that away. In fact, in many ways age enhances it. - - - - This Sunday I've come to a text that still shocks me: Matthew 5:43-48. I so want to domesticate this text, to soften its blow, to make it fit our world better. It's too outrageous. (By the way, Chris and I just went to see "End of the Spear," where the text is lived out.) Can't wait to have Zoe join us Sunday morning as I paddle in water over my head with these words of Jesus.