Cheers.

They say old habits die hard.

Perhaps it is not so much the habits themselves which bind us to them, but the familiarity and comfort we find there which makes us run back to them, no matter if they are good for us or not. Very often, they aren't anyway.

Like a child running back to his mother's arms, what feels familiar always feels good. But there comes a time where doing so may no longer be appropriate, and running to the right place, back to God, will require new courage, new trust and new faith. Just like how it takes a great deal of commitment and faith for an alcoholic to find his solace elsewhere, many of us probably require that same steely inner strength to turn away from old coping mechanisms to someplace new, someplace unfamiliar, but ultimately better for us in the long run.

In the face of depression or stress, can we choose to pray instead of smoke, excercise instead of binge, call a friend or journal instead of feeding on pornography?

While the stronger part of us is eternally seeking renewal and rebirth, the weaker part shall forever strive to crawl back to the past, dragging our growth down like dead weights. There is a war between spirit and flesh. Unless we consciously and doggedly refocus our efforts on what is newer but unfamiliar, we will forever stagnate. Will we not?

When you look into the mirror, do you see part old, and part new? Does it frustrate you.

I was looking into the mirror just the other day when I found myself surprised at just how much my body has changed. It is vastly different from when I was ill with anorexia 2 years ago. In fact, it is different from any other time in my life. For one, I don't ever remember myself ever having calves or thighs this muscular (in girl terms of course). I don't remember my body ever looking this way, nor my skin being so tanned ever in my life. I also don't remember my weight ever being this... high. Ever since I've started cycling, swimming and running on a regular basis, my weight has been climbing. And though I try to remember that muscle is, after all, thrice the density of fat, it is still psychologically a frightful event for a member of the female species.

Suddenly, I became afraid of and exasperated with my body. I became confused and angry with myself. On one hand, I can't thank God enough for helping me find a genuine joy in sports, find genuine friends who are real gemstones to train with and befriend, find genuine freedom in enjoying recreational sports as God-given gifts instead of being enslaved to them. On the other, the old self was seething with jealousy inside, determined to rob me of this joy, as it constantly reminded me how different and therefore ugly my new body was, and challenged to put it down.

It's too bulky. Look what roadcycling has done to your thighs. Look what long distance running has done to your calves. Look at what swimming has done to your shoulders and arms. Look at the number on the scale- you're a whisker away from being sixty kilos. Now weren't you better off in the past?

Better off? Like when I was ill, you mean?

I am learning, temptation will always be there. We will always have the choice to turn back to our old ways. I know it will only take a moment of folly, insecurity and weakness to make ruin all I've taken to come this far in recovery. It will be too easy to to revert to my old ways of self-deprivation. Running to Ed is, or rather, was my natural coping mechanism, something I was comfortable with. After all, Ed was familiar.

But I am learning, that while human beings have a natural tendency to return to the old, we don't have to, especially when we realise God promises us life afresh with Him.

Today, I received an unexpected email from a sender who made me jump in my seat. It was a well-known senior surgeon whom many of peers admire who had got wind of this space and sent me his thoughts. It got me thinking.

Dear Wai Jia,

... I've recently come across your Kitesong blog and

wanted to thank you for your courage in sharing the journey you are on... ...

The turbulent conflicts you have shared remind me

how obediently you are allowing yourself to be a new wineskin:

stretching and trustingly accomodating

even the uncomfortable bubbling up and

overflowing of the maturing new wine being poured into your life.

In the words of Keith Green,

keep on keeping your heart's wineskin 'new', 'soft' and 'oiled'!

Thank you! ....

Blessings!

J

There is a story in the bible about God telling people not to put new wine into old wineskin. (Wineskin is often made of goat's skin and was used to contain wine in the past.) This is because when new wine ferments in the old wineskin made of animal skin, it produces so much gas that it causes the old vessel to rupture, ruining both the original container and the precious new liquid.

It made me think-are we not like that too? Parts of us have matured, moved on and grown wiser. Yet, when we allow our old mindsets to continue to dwell in us and ferment, are we not creating an opportunity to hijack ourselves, to ruin ourselves completely again?

This evening, I was using my artist's eye to critically examine my body in the mirror, so surprised and also ambivalent at how different it is now when it suddenly struck me- that my newfound security in God, in myself and in my body is the new wine God has been pouring into me. And unless I throw out that old wineskin (that old familiar picture of a sickly-thin body which my old mind desired and was comfortable running back to), my new wine shall war with old wineskin till it ruptures, the precious new wine God has poured within me shall spill and all shall be lost.

Perhaps, growing is really all about trusting God to make us who we were meant to be. Trying to be in control can often be a hindrance.

I remember how I used to try to control too many things, and try to achieve too many things by myself to find some sense of security. Running longer and longer distances on my own was a form of gaining some sort of control. I was always too tired. Yet, when I learnt to let go, not only did God teach me how to cycle, He released an entire community of friends to me who gave me newfound heights of liberty, joy and peace to run, swim, cycle guiltlessly with and reach levels of achievement I never, ever would have reached myself. Last Sunday, my 2 marathon-enthusiast friends took me on a neverending trail. We ended up completing my longest distance ever, something my too-tired, too-individualistic, too-frail body would never have been able to do in the past. More importantly, it wasn't the distance we covered or the timing within which we completed it that mattered, but the company, the friendship we shared. Somehow, when we focus on what's important, God takes us further than we ever could imagine.

Instead of being fairer and lighter, training has made me darker, more muscular and heavier- attributes not nearly most girls desire. Today, on the first day of school after a one-week break, I was exasperated by some of the insensitive things which were said to me by teasing boys again. They take it as affectionate teasing, a form of unrelentless amusement, not nearly as amusing to me at times though I try to graciously laugh along. But over the week, spending time with Am has really affirmed me in many ways. Being treated like a lady and being occasionally pampered by him has been a blessing, to say the least. So I am learning, that it is my own mind which I must try to change. I must no longer hold on to the old mind of insecurity, and hope that they will someday see how unhelpful and sometimes plain mean their comments can be. For rootedness in God is unshakeable, even in the face of the most heartless of teasing. With God, I can turn the other cheek to be hit again without resentment.

I am learning, that throughout this entire process of trusting my body and mind with God, of becoming more secure in Him, and being more comfortable with who I am and not just what I do, God has been refilling me with new wine. And I must learn to embrace the new wineskin He is giving me too.

Lest I yearn for old mindsets and crave for the very thing which could destroy me.

For God also said to them, "And no one, having drunk old wine, immediately desires new; for he says, 'The old is better.'"

The old always feels more comfortable.

"God loves you Wai Jia. Don't ever allow the devil to lie to you and rob you of His faithful promises. You're a beautiful girl."

So I'm not going to be afraid to enjoy running, swimming and cycling. I'm not going to be afraid to enjoy brownie and ice-cream in the company of people I love. Sixty, is just another number.

So here's to new wine and new wineskin. Cheers.

" And no one puts new wine into old wineskins;

or else the new wine will burst the wineskins and be spilled,

and the wineskins will be ruined.

But new wine must be put into new wineskins,

and both are preserved."

- Luke 5: 37-38

First Try. *photos added

And not forgetting
my parents,

-for sponsoring all my sporting gear and

for supporting me in all my strange and varied interests

with sometimes more excitement than I,

and for keeping me in check.

This race would never have been possible

if it weren't for what you've blessed me with
so generously, as always,

and if it weren't for your amazing trust to let me pursue

where my heart takes me

be it going to another developing country

or taking up another crazy hobby,
even if it involves giving you another heart attack ;)

It's really cool to know that
you two can sometimes be more excited about what I do than I am.

And I just want you to know,

that the race medal is yours too.

Just sharing that moment with you

And seeing that smile on your faces
was Bliss.

And thank you God,

for my 2 arms, 2 feet of clay and a

healthy mind & body,

(which I now understand and realise not everyone has,

so I no longer take life for granted).

Thank You for placing Fungus in my life.

I can't believe You taught me

how to cycle on 2 wheels only last October,

how to swim freestyle in the sea only in June,

and how to revel in the gift of having a healthy vessel

and honouring it to honour You.

Just 2 years ago, I was so ill.

The medal means much to me only because

it reminds me of so many angels

You placed in my path,

without which,

I would never have started nor completed the race.

I never believed

I could do something like this-

I am naturally scared, anxious and once upon a time was overweight.
And I thought You wanted me to give this whole pursuit up.

But little did I realise that:

When we show you how little these things mean to us

in comparison to You,

You turn around to show us

How much we mean to You.

Michael came to church with me after the race for Saturday service.

He saw that I couldn't stop crying,

Because I was so grateful

to You.

I learnt,

that nothing is inherently good or evil,

But our attitude towards it makes it so.

Sports,

or anything else for that matter,

-working, studying, painting, eating, birdwatching, dancing-

can be holy and pleasing to You

as long as we remember

that it is a gift from You.

Michael came in First in his race catergory on Sunday,

completing a full Olympic distance

after he had already done a sprint distance on Saturday.

He was so thankful to You for His strength.

Michael says,
that You are pleased when I swim, cycle and run
in gratitude to You.

Even if it is a little race, like the mini one I did.

And so I cried,

Because for the first time,

I felt Your pleasure.

And that kept me going through the race,

keeps me going still,

Even as I'm On the Road.

This race was one of blood, sweat and tears,

literally.

Truly, I cannot ask for more.

2 of my cycling buddies by me, and our medals

Tired.

Thank you to those of you who've shared in my joy in my journey,
and who have encouraged me in one way or another.

Thank you God.

" I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith."

- 2 Timothy 4:7

*photos courtesy of Ernest, Danielle and KL

Along the way.

We are standing up against gravity. We are moving forward against wind resistance. We are living against death, are we not? Everyday, forces from all sides assault and assail us, ageing us with monotony, dimming out visions with disappointment, and dehumanising us with digits, statistics, efficiency. Living, in its very self, requires a constant struggle against something, for when we let go and give up, our environment becomes us, becomes something we can be ashamed of.

Work dehumanises us. At the office, one is labelled a "staff"; at the hospital, we are labelled "students". You are a staff in an office who needs to churn this report out; you are a student who ought to be a shadow behind a doctor, and see X number of patients with X disease- no matter if you can't remember their names because there're ten other patients waiting outside who've been waiting for an hour who need you to treat their conditions. Cause no trouble, meet your quota, and you will be okay. I have come to a point where I realise, that if one does not constantly fight against this deadening gravity which convinces one that one is a faceless, nameless labourer in an organisation meant to complete tasks and hit marks, one shall surely live, only to give in to death.

Suddenly, I became aware, that if I do not stay on guard and fight against this force called Medical School, this institution which claims to nobly produce humane and compassionate doctors, shall very well dry me out and kill me- like the many casualties before.

What Mdm H wrote that day sobered me. Because I realised, that in spite of her kind words and encouragement which really moved me, I had fallen in the same places, erred at the same corners, made the same mistakes, too. Being an idealist, I have a picture of what a doctor should be like too. And while it disappoints me to hear bad-doctor experiences from others, I now realise that if this erosive force could assail these doctors who once bore noble ideals and aspirations, it could happen to me, too. Worse, I realised that, it has been happening to me, and is happening to me now, too. That incident was only but one- but I have failed many more times before.

A typical day for a medical officer starts at 6 in the morning because you've got to report at the hospital for morning ward rounds at 730am. You review all the patients and make plans for each of their issues. Two hours pass quickly and at 9am, you are either at the clinic seeing patients till the evening, or at the operating theatre. Lunch is quick, if present at all. One or two days a week, there is a night call, which is a 36-hour shift, where one has to handle all the emergencies of the ward for the night, only to bathe briefly to attend the next morning's round at 730am. The cycle continues, every day, over and over. You rush from one crisis to the next, but the work never ends. There are always new patients to see, and the existing ones keep asking the nurses, "How come the doctor only comes to see me for 3 minutes every day?" New people fall sick- it is a fact of life, and unless you enjoy your work, the routine shall surely poison you.

Mdm H's writing was a wake-up call for me. I realise that as much as I wished to, I could take no credit for the kindness she had lavished upon me- for I am but a medical student in my favorite module, and under the same stresses of a doctor's life, I cannot say I would not behave in the same detached and professional manner that doctors may often do. Would I have the time then to sit with her to chat, listen and pray? I do not know. It woke me up to the reality which is shaping who I am. And I learnt, that I do not like the way some parts of me is becoming- stressed, curt and too efficient at times. There is a forcefield out there draining us out, and we must be on our guard to fight tooth and nail against it- all the time.

I am learning, that even though we have the end in mind all the time, our success lies in our vigilance in the day-to-day, every day. Very often, in our journeys to reach our noble goals, we lose ourselves along the way.

Perhaps the greatest challenge we face, is not when we are at the starting point visualising ourselves at the end, but what we do and think in between those two points.

I think that was what I was most afraid of while training for my first triathlon-losing myself. I was afraid that Ed would creep back into my life. But this time, God has been gracious, sending angels to battle for me against the many forcefields which ought to have embittered and disenabled me. There were points of discouragement, but God sent people to remind me never to be complacent, never to be so enraptured by the endpoint only to forget the process along the way. Even though the race is tomorrow, I feel like I've already won the crown, for it was the journey till the race which was the greatest challenge, not the race itself, and so the victory has been won- for this is the first time I have journeyed this way with so much peace, joy and freedom. This is the first time I have learnt what it means to surrender oneself to God in sports, what it means to really trust Him and enjoy the gifts He has blessed us with. This is the first time I've learnt so much- physically and spiritually. This is the first time I've had so much fun learning along the way.

And I hope the journey in medical school, or for your work will be likewise too. That it will be the many victories along the way that we will allow to shape us, and fight against the gravity of this world, instead of letting our destinations distract us from the importance of growing through Process. I hope that realising this will give me hope to be the kind of doctor Mdm H had envisioned, and not the doctor I am becoming now (sigh). I must remind myself of the importance of fighting against this resistance- with joy and courage, every day.

Tomorrow, many people will stand at the starting point of the swim, bike and run, bracing themselves for what may be one of the biggest challenges of their lives. But I think I shall stand, albeit at the beginning of a very short and modest race, knowing that the greatest challenge has already been fought for me, by His angels-

- and then the fun will begin.

Thank you to all my friends who have made this journey so exceptionally exciting-

To Fungus who inspired me to try a tri;

all my friends at Joyriders for training with me, teaching me and for your unfailing encouragement (esp. Derrick, Alvin, Jeslyn, Mabel, Peter);

Amos, Raymond, Norman & Jiajie for teaching me freestyle swimming;

Michael for showing me God's way of doing sports;

Aunty Ay and Jo, for keeping me accountable;

my church, for helping me grow;

all my other friends (you know who you are, yes) for your encouragement

and Prof Kok, who sold this idea to me like a drug peddlar since the beginning,

for your example to me and all your help

along the way :)

This is going to be so much fun, not least because I know that I'll reach the finish point tomorrow. But only because of what all of you and You taught me, and the victories You helped me win- along the way.

Life is a journey, not a destination,
the joy is in the travels & experiences.

-Anonymous

Sticking it out.

"That ring... is not good for you to wear."

She took the ring from me, and we decided that she would return it to me only after I got married. "I will keep it for you." And that was that.

Somehow a great sense of relief washed over me. It was as if I had finally let go of another bag of fear, amidst all the big bags of fear I carry around with me daily- the fear of loving, the fear of being loved, the fear of swimming, the fear of pain, the fear of dreaming. I gave Aunty L my ring because we decided it was "not good for you to wear", that "God will make that to happen which should happen so you ought not to limit what He wants to do with your life". So that precious ring which I always wear on my wedding finger even though I am single, because of a ton of reasons which Aunty L struck off one by one, is now... gone.

I wonder if perhaps God has been trying to get something through to me. On top of the many disparate incidents which have occurred over the past month, this week, not one, not two, but four people came to talk to and challenge me about my views on relationships, and I think Aunty L was the one who won me over. She took my ring away- that ring which held so much of my fear- my fear of loving, of being loved, of pain and of dreaming. And now I feel strangely... free. Free, not because of worldly reasons, but free, because this is the beginning of letting my fears about loving and of being loved go. I have had to confess, that the ring was worn out of fear, too.

This week, I learnt, that one of my fears included that of not being able to see things through. It disturbed me to realise that I had the habit of starting on books but not always finishing them, of taking new hobbies up with great enthusiasm but pursuing very few, of starting a run, swim or bike but always faltering in the second half, of starting off well and then not being able to finish off strong because of Pain. That day, when Amos made me do twelve more laps with weights on my legs just at the point when I was ready to get out of the water because of fatigue, I remember being afraid of not finishing the task which lay ahead because of the pain. And perhaps part of the tears at the end that day, was in realising the pre-existing weakness that I had of not seeing things through, of fearing to overcome pain. It made me wonder-when a relationship hit the rocks, would I give up too soon, too fast and throw in the towel because of the challenges? Would I not realise that Pain in a relationship is like Pain in a race? That it is necessary for growth?

Perhaps the pain in a relationship or a race is like that experienced in labour. Once in the labour ward, I witnessed an extremely difficult delivery. The mother was exhausted, and she kept pushing in short spurts instead of giving long, sustained pushes, resulting in the baby continually being ping-ponged up and down the birth canal but never quite coming out. This resulted in terrible tears in her vagina which needed much stitching. I suppose that just like in labour or a race, we all come to a point of excruciating pain where a sustained effort, more than short bursts of motivation, is required to keep us going till the end- if one wishes for smooth finish. Surely, it is overcoming that pain in the long haul, persistently, which makes a relationship, race or the process of labour great and beautiful.

Many friends and mentors, too, have shared with me the ups and downs of being in a relationship. Through the misunderstandings, they understood each other better, and through the pain, they loved each other more deeply- even though at some point, many of them confessed to me that they felt like giving up because things got tough.

So even though this really is a tiny, tiny race I have had the privilege of going for, I am learning Big lessons along the way, about myself, about others and about life. I want to learn how to stick it out when things get tough, and how to finish well.

I am learning, that we go through different seasons in life- that God allowed the ring for a season of my life to protect me- for it was just at that point where I met a person who would have swept me off my feet with his slickness had it not been for the commitment I felt God had made me make during the time. The person turned out to be someone who would've destroyed me completely had it not been for the ring. Today, J wrote," I think the season for God's purposes for you having the ring is over, I remember it was quite amazing how you came to have it in the first place. It's interesting how He teaches and leads us in each season learning new trust and surrender in greater measures each time."

I am learning, that trusting God with my relationships, now and in the future, will take me through a higher level of faith. I am learning that I have reached the point where my heart needs to be s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d, that I need to expect more from myself than others, that reality stands in stark constrast to disney, and that if someone comes in a white horse and the whole fairy tale get-up (which someone did in some way), he most likely is a fake-o. That though reality doesn't come with sparkles and medieval battles, there is beauty in simplicity and plain integrity. I am learning, that I need to be less proud and more real with myself and others, that I need to stop shutting people out from my life just because they are nice to me, and that while certain standards cannot be compromised, I have to stop trying to surpass the ceiling in setting expectations. This will not be a comfortable learning curve, but one which I will have to embark on nonetheless, to learn the lesson of seeing things through, till the very end.

I could not sleep last night- something turned restlessly within me as I pondered over the silly mistakes I had made because of my attitude towards relationships and people, and wondered if they were irreversible. Aunty L wrote me today, "Did not miss the ring, I hope. I pray for the hands of God to embrace you tenderly. Is anything too hard for Him?"

I want to learn not to fear pain but to see things through. And I hope Aunty L will have reason to return my ring back to me someday, when I no longer will need it anymore because of a new one I've received.

So I don't have my ring anymore. And that is that.

Climbing the Mountain.

Pain. I am enthralled by it. In the labour wards at hospital, the screaming mothers with anguish smeared all over their faces inspire me in the most unspeakable ways- the pain of childbirth accentuates the beauty of life; During endurance races, the perserverence of athletes written in their perspiration and grimace captivates me- their pain encapsulates the indomitability of the human spirit; In depression, the disbelief in God and bold questioning makes me sit up- their pain reminds me of how our trials can strengthen our faith in Him who is unseen.

Pain. I am learning, how when put in the right perspective, it can be so good for us.

When I first met Amos, I knew he was a blessing from God. He was everything I had always wished for. Till today, it still feels surreal, for God's timing is best. Had I met him any earlier, I knew I would have sunk right under the wave of the old idolatrous nature, allowing the pride of self and sports to consume me all over again. Amos- it is the name of a man in the bible whose purpose was to warn people of God's displeasure against their idolatry.

For the longest time, I had wished I would be able to master the art of swimming freestyle competitively. I wanted to master water. Friends had offered help and advice but I wanted something more. I wanted to be pushed, wanted to learn, master and marvel at one of the most beautiful art forms of gliding through water with the human body. Desperate, I posted a message on the triathlete forum asking for someone willing to teach me one-on-one. On evenings after work. At the pool at my place because I've no time to travel. Tough luck, I thought- the price would be steep. Private lessons can cost up to more than a hundred dollars an hour.

But Amos replied and said he would teach me for free because he loves to teach. He teaches all the kids at his condominium for free too. He doesn't mind coming to my place because he happens to live 2 minutes from where I live. Amos is a professional swimmer- he was trained by australian multiple award winner for best-coach-of-year Ian Pope and has come in first in a number of competitions.

Yes, so when I first met Amos, I knew he was a blessing from God. He was everything I had ever asked God for in a coach. I was embarrassed, no doubt. Why would someone like him spend his time on someone like myself? For nothing monetary in return? But his passion amazed me, his encouragement goaded me, his friendship worked in me a motivation which unleashed something I never knew existed within me. Zealous for life and full of determination, he is the perfect mix of nanny-friend and terror which makes a good coach Good.

First time we met, he made it very clear to me that he took training very seriously. "I don't understand why people don't put in their best. It doesn't matter if you're going for a short or long race-what matters is that you put in your best. Pain is not an option. Pain is your friend, okay? "

"We're gonna warm-up first, do some drills, and then finish a couple of sets." I looked at him in mild amusement- I was sure he didn't understand what I meant when I told him I was a really, really bad freestyle swimmer, "worse than a chicken in water". But several drills and fine-tuning practises later, when I had finally got the hang of gliding and was tired and losing focus, breathing every 2 strokes instead of the 4 he had stipulated, he stared straight into my eyes and told me, "If you wanna improve and not die during trials, then you've got to make Pain your Friend. I'm not joking- I will yell at you if you don't try. Breathe only after every four strokes, not two. Don't disappoint me. Go. "

Last Saturday, we went to the open sea in Sentosa so I could get a feel of what open-water swimming was like in triathlons. The tide was coming in, the current strong and he could tell I was stressed out by the situation. "Look, it's okay if you're not used to it, we don't have to swim to that island over there. I don't want you to drown." The other shore was far away, and the sheer distance of choppy waves which lay in between paralysed me. "No, we'll try it out. I'm okay. Pain is our friend, right?"

I gulped and went for it. Though stressed initially by the heavy currents which I wasn't used to, I started to enjoy the water so much. But halfway through in the middle of the ocean, the pain in my legs stalled me. I wanted to stop because of the pain. I had confessed to Amos before, that for some reason, I always lost confidence, speed and hope after I crossed the halfway mark, in almost everything I did. It scared me because I know the journey God has before us is all about finishing well, and not merely starting off strong. He shouted, "Keep going!"

Suddenly, a firework of stings burned my skin as a group of seabugs latched onto me, including my lips. At that moment, my senses awakened and I pressed on. It reminded me, of how God had allowed the angels to put fiery burning coals on the lips of a righteous man because the Painful cleansing process was necessary for the great calling God had lay ahead of him. (Isaiah 6:5-8) I pressed on. There and back, there and back.

Pain. I am learning, how it can be good for us when we allow it to come from God, and not our own blind self-striving.

The next day, at church, we listened to the story of a one-day trek up an icy mountain organised for tourists visiting Switzerland. At every trek, many people would start off strong, determined to reach the top, and were even more enthused in knowing that there would be a half-way resthouse to recharge in at noon. But at every trek, when the people reached the resthouse, and started to drink, eat and make merry amidst music of the piano and accordion, only but a few would go back out in the freezing cold, for the jovial atmosphere in the warm resthouse was a comfortable relief from the harsh winds. But at 4 o'clock, when the finalists reached the top to plant their flags, a bell would sound and an inevitable funeral-like atmosphere would permeate the once-merry resthouse. It was a smell of discouragement, of despair and of shame. All the celebrating would end at that point, because the people knew, they didn't make it because they didn't embrace the Pain of the journey with resilience and faith. They gave up mid-way. They didn't go all the way with the vision laid upon their hearts at the beginning.

Amos taught me more than swimming. "Pain is your friend. Your problem is not endurance, it's confidence. "

Today was a tough day. After doing drill after drill and swallowing lots of water, I was ready to call it a day. But Amos had more in mind- that was merely the warm-up. "Now training starts proper, we're going to do sets." I wasn't ready for it. If I had been by myself, that would have been more than sufficient. I thought he was joking, but he wasn't. Towards the end, with my legs burning and lungs close to bursting, I gave it all I got but at the end, he said, "Two more sets. " I looked at him, horrified. "Two more sets. I know you can do it. Don't quit on me now, it's only going to get harder." My adrenalin was pumping, my limbs were aching and my lungs were gasping. A fiery anger burned inside me. "Good, I see that fire. Put it in those last few laps, you can stop now if you're a quitter."

Something in me broke in the last set. There was Pain inside all of me. I wanted to quit. I am an artist, a painter, a writer, a runner at most, but not a swimmer. That excruciating agony surprised me and all at once, an emotional downpour rained upon me as I pulled through the water, remembering the story I had heard at church about going all the way with God. That climbing heights with God is about keeping our eyes on the vision which He has for us at the end, that it always requires going all the way, and about fighting the battle through pain. Because He wants us to be acclimatized to the harsher conditions of the second leg of the climb and race. Because it's not about how well we start, but how well we finish. We need to overcome and endure whatever Pain there is, so we can reach the end.

I don't know where all that fiery energy and anger came from but when I remembered that story I gave it all I got. There was a desperation to finish the race, a fiestiness to complete what I had started. Suddenly I was angry with the Pain. I was angry with myself always lacking the confidence to finish off strong. I was angry at all the teasing being thrown at me at school and which had hurt me and crossed my threshold and which I kept bottling inside but which I no longer wanted to take. That anger surprised me because I never knew it existed. "Don't give up-where is your character?" he asked me when I turned to do the next lap. I wanted to throw the heavy weights he had made me wear on my legs at him.

When I finally hit the wall, with the upsurge of adrenalin and pain and hormones and emotionality boiling up inside me and my lungs desperate for breath, with the remembrance of the story about Pain and finishing well with God at church, with the disbelief that I was finally swimming for real, and with the gratitude I had towards God for blessing me with a coach and friend like Amos, for seeing me through the journey of overcoming idolatry, for speaking to me in such a consistent way about pain and finishing well, for returning the joy of sports and life to me and finally practising sports with the kind of good pain within His limits, tears welled up in my eyes. Suddenly, I just felt like screaming my lungs out. I just cried. When I got out of the water, I just broke and cried.

Amos put a towel over me and sat me down to talk, as we always do after every lesson. "You okay?"

"Yes."

" You were good today. You did well. I am proud of you, you aren't a quitter, you've character. You finished well. You made Pain your friend and you did well."

It was an emotional time. The tears kept flowing and I couldn't stop them. All this while I thought God wanted me to put sports away because it had become an idol, but look how, when we surrender it to Him, He can powerfully He use it to impact and teach us and show us the great extent of His generous love. He took away, and then gave back in double portion.

Pain. I am learning that it can be a beautiful thing when we put it in perspective. Pain, when used to fuel our idolatry for selfish gains and self-striving, can be destructive. But when understood in the context of building our character, and extrapolating its principles to the most important Race we call life with God, it can be a beautiful, beautiful thing. No matter what mountain we climb, what race we begin, as long as God has called us to it, we need to be faithful to complete it.

Amos- it is the name of the man who understood the gravity of not putting God first.

Amos taught me about Pain. We learn most from it when it becomes our friend, not idol or god. We overcome when it becomes our friend, and we overcome for the purpose of finishing the good work which God has begun in us. Only a few reach the top of the mountain.

Who may ascend into the hill of God?

Or who may stand in His holy place?

He who has clean hands and a pure heart,

Who has not lifted up his soul to an idol,

Nor sworn deceitfully.

He shall receive blessing from God,

And righteousness from the God of his salvation.

-Psalm 24:3-5