Why I'll Never Be An Olympic Titan

Don't know about you, but I was always last to be picked at school when it came to sports teams.  My unique blend of malco-ordination and much extra fat meant that I was never a significant asset to any serious athletic endevour. (I was so big, I was considered a health and safety hazard in rugby! How bad is that?!) I managed to come third in the year 4 sack race, but only because my feet broke through the bottom of the sack so that I could "run" rather than jump like everyone else.

This theme of sporting ineptitude has carried on into my adult life, as seen in the write up from the recent annual staff doubles tennis tournament:

The wooden spoon winners were the hapless Richard Walker and the glamorous ----- ----- who did her impression of Edvard Munch’s Scream for virtually every point as the Bambi On Ice-esque Walker missed another shot due to his almost complete lack of eye to hand co-ordination. Walker, famed for his Iron Man exploits certainly needs to coat himself in some Ronseal next year as the rust had certainly set in.

I found out, when going to get sized up for my new bike, that my arms and legs are too short for a man with my torso. (So much so that the computer told the person measuring me to do it again, my proportional variations were well beyond the norm!!) I should have been 6ft3" apparently.  I obviously didn't eat enough spinach.

The physical limitations, could be overcome, in some measure, if I had the will power.  The truth is that the only sport I know I would have any serious chance of winning would be championship daydreaming, but the problem inherent in that is, how do you measure victory?  Daydreaming is successful by virtue of what it doesn't achieve, not what it does! :-(

So the swimming biking and running continue, falteringly.  I got a new bike this week on a salary sacrifice scheme, which I'm enjoying riding a lot, and in the fine weather I'm taking longer routes to and from work.

The down side is that I'm having to fight hard not to let this new toy have greater prominence in my thinking than it needs or deserves. I have had to consciously choose not to upgrade my padlock, consciously choose to leave it (locked) in public places and not worry, consciously choose not to say to this lump of metal, rubber and a little carbon: "You are my god, my joy is in you!"

Of course, it's not the bike's fault, the problem is in my heart. I want to give it a value and a significance that's far beyond it's ability to fulfill. I value possessions more than God and people. God help me.

In truth, I don't want to be a sporting titan at all. I'm grateful that God gave me a half-baked sporting physique cos I'll never be deluded into thinking that I should waste my life in the pursuit of sporting glory. (That said, there are plenty of other things that do the job of tempting me to waste my life very well!)

I want to be a championship giver.  I want to value God and people more than possessions. I want to pour out my life looking after people for Jesus, not my lifeless toys.

I want to see visions, dream dreams and fear God more than daydream and accumulate trophies that rust.