70.3

“I’m afraid,” you said.

“Me too,” I replied. And I was more relieved that you said so first. I’m not sure if I would have the courage to bring it up otherwise.

The day you told me over the phone you had signed up for the 70.3mile half IronMan event, I was excited for you. It was a huge endeavour of faith. For a moment, we were giddy with joy. But I never told you about my mixed feelings. So when you said you were afraid of what it might do to you, of how the training might change you, shift your heart and pull your focus away from God and the things that mattered in life, I felt like a dam I never knew existed in me give way.

This morning, I cried a lot at church. The tears really surprised me. And I asked myself why.

I guess all this while, I never realized how our friendship had grown. When I first saw you, I thought you were another one of those quiet macho guys whom I'd have to think quite hard to start a conversation with. For one, I thought you were much older. I didn’t even know you then, but you decided to chip in with the rest to buy me my bike Faith, when you learnt that I'd given away my bike money to a deaf girl's hearing operation. It was then I found out you were funny, and you could make fun of yourself and your Mickey-mouse ears. But the thing that set you apart from the rest, was how you considered God in everything you did. I liked the fact you did everything to the best of your ability and yet had fun doing it. The other Big boys would be squeezing air out of their lungs trying to keep up, while you cruised breezily, ahead of the pack, with a funny tune in your head. You never showed off, never tried too hard. You just enjoyed what you did and were naturally good at it.

After our rides, you’d come over to swim and it became a habit for us to talk about our lives and God. Perhaps that was the most important part of the workout- reflecting, taking stock of life and putting the pieces together. And then I got injured. And I thought I would lose you all and be forgotten because I couldn’t ride for 6 months. I put on weight. It was a difficult time for me.

But you didn’t stop coming. You still came to swim after riding-that was the only exercise I could do pain-free. And we didn’t stop talking. I let you in because you were like a brother, and that made you safe for me to let in into my fortress fenced with barbed wire. Sometimes, we had lunch. That gave me a lot of encouragement when I felt isolated from the rest of our group, and I willed myself to recover. But when I did, I was afraid to ride again because of my guilt and anxiety.

“Triathlon is a tainted sport,” I said bitterly, “There’s just so much pride and competition and self-indulgence.”

“No!” You insisted. “Triathlon is beautiful!” And you said it with such exuberance I could see myself running on a mountaintop above a starry sea.

And that moment changed me because I saw that it was. It is. Triathlon is beautiful. That made me remember why I started in the first place. Triathlon is beautiful because it is difficult. It is beautiful because there is beauty in overcoming, beauty in enduring, and beauty in completion. Most importantly, it is beautiful for me because of the friends I made and the lessons I learnt along the way, about life, and about God. Triathlon helped me recover- it is what God used to save my life.

We started together. We were supposed to do the half event and full Olympic distance together. Eventually, I knew we would try for the half IronMan. But I got injured, so we attended the race we were both supposed to complete. I took your photos. You suffered a bad abrasion. But we were both happy- you, for completing the race, and I, for learning to let go.

Now you’re way ahead of me. I’m happy for you. You got a spanking new bike at a great price. It was awesome. You were still, mostly, the same. You never boasted, and you got faster.

Then you told me, after signing up for this big race, that you were afraid of losing yourself in the sport, and I became afraid too. Because I’ve seen so many people lose themselves in the sport that I’m afraid of losing you, too. Their whole lives become enamoured with the glamour of the sport, revolve around it. There is carnal sense of pride when it comes to training, and it can be so time-consuming that it takes parts of you away, slowly, insidiously, without you knowing it. I should know- I lost myself before.

I’ve seen what the sport can do to people. It starts off as a healthy endeavour, but the seemingly supportive encouragement from the crowd makes it easy for one to mistake pride for freedom, makes it easy for one to lose oneself in the fray of best timings, latest wheelsets and fanciest bike models. Granted, these are all topics for conversation in a common hobby, but when does it go overboard?

I have been guilty. I have cancelled appointments and rearranged meetings just so I could fit my training in. Training, insidiously, became of such high priority. The scariest thing was that I could still reason how I was still faithful to my ministry at church, how I was still serving God faithfully, still close to Him. It was only after I got injured, that I saw how much of life I had missed, how much training had taken away from me.

And maybe I’m feeling sad and I’m recounting all of this because I’m expecting the worst, that I might lose you. I guess I’m just afraid that I might lose you to the thing we both thought was beautiful, and then I would lose you both, forever.

I’m just afraid, of how the sport could take away you from you, and me, too.

This is selfish, but I don’t want to lose another friend.

Once, I was not afraid. I held the sport in high regard and I plunged into it, head first. Once, triathlon was only glorious and beautiful- it epitomized perseverence, discipline and sportsmanship. But I learnt painfully, that some kinds of nobility come at a price, and sometimes, not that which everyone can pay for. And perhaps, part of me is also envious, that God allowed you, but not me to go the distance. Perhaps, part of me is still grieving that you are doing all the races I had wanted to do, too. And perhaps, the greatest grief came in knowing that all my sadness was but a glimpse into God’s grief when I made that mistake of allowing my focus to shift, if only for a while, if only for a bit.

And I'm afraid it may happen to you, too. Did He feel like He was losing me, too? Did You hurt that much for me, God?

He did not let me pay that obscene price.

I know how it is. There is the gruelling training programme to follow, work at school to keep up with, there is tiredness and a conflicting sense of discipline, and then there are friendships and family ties to maintain. Not everything goes smoothly. People-ties take time. I only just learnt, that how we honour the sport is how we honour God and the people in our lives. But I have skipped dinner with my parents before just so I could clock another training session. I have postponed appointments before just so I could finish a run. They were always understanding. But that was besides the point. This morning you said you replied to me late because you had to sleep early to go for a run- was that the beginning? I don't know. I'm afraid.

We talked about the Iron Man in London before. That’s a 1.9km swim, 180km bike ride and a 42.2km run. If you do go for it, would you be too busy for lunch? Would you become like the rest?

I passed you my heart rate monitor. I hated that contraption because it sucked out all the joy of triathlon for me. It’s use is to help one ensure one exercises within a certain heart rate zone, for maximal training efficiency. I bought that when I started getting serious, when everyone kept giving me their advice, kept pushing me this way and that. Maybe the insecure part of me needed approval. I got one cheaply. You were there when I got it. Now it’s yours, but I pray it never brings you the kind of misery it brought me.

There is hope. You confessed your fear before I did. And because of that, I think we can pray, that it will not take you away, that triathlon will always remain beautiful for us. Still, I must be prepared, that this could change our friendship forever, and I could lose you.

So I pray this for you, that in all you do, may God always be first in your life. May the sport develop you into a better person, push you into seeking God more fervently and passionately. May you never forget what triathlon means to the both of us, and may you always swim, bike and run with joy and freedom.

And someday, I hope to do a race again, too.

Triathlon is beautiful.

"Whenever I am afraid,
I will trust in You.
In God (I will praise His word),
In God I have put my trust;
I will not fear.
What can flesh do to me?"
-Psalm 56:3

Mirinda Carfrae, winner of the Women's 2010 KONA IronMan running towards the finish

Respect.

I heard about her during a running clinic I had attended yesterday. Everyone present had an old injury and were hoping to learn pain-free running. I ran alongside a Canadian triathlete going for a training course with KONA 2010 Champion Mirinda Carfrae. "Chrissie didn't compete this year," she told me.

"Who's Chrissie?" I said, ignorantly.

The KONA IronMan World Championships just ended. The IronMan consists of a 1.9km swim, a 180km bike ride, and a full 42.2km marathon back-to-back-to-back. This year, all-time favourite, nine-time IronMan race winner, and three-time KONA champion Chrissie Wellington didn't compete. She fell ill.

Thinking about the amount of time, passion and dedication invested in her hobby, sport and career, I can hardly begin to imagine the amount of anguish, disappointment and grief she must have felt on waking up only days before the event, the event she had trained and aimed for all year round, which her friends, family, supporters and nation had supported her to not only complete, but win.

A headache and a bad throat comes in forefront of a background of endless hours of gruelling training over the past year. What does one do? All that brutal training all gone down the drain. Or has it?

In life, the unexpected often happens. You plan for further studies but your mum falls prey to cancer. You plan a trip but an earthquake happens there. Life is foiler of our best made plans.

Have you ever had to let go of something you thought you couldn't? Or do you see these "foiled" moments as opportunities for growth and self-reflection?

She didn't compete. And for that, for her response to not competing, she has earnt my respect. In that decision, she has brought glory to the sport. She set an example for others, budding athletes and professionals, as well as normal people like us, to love and respect our body and to honour the sport.

For all that triathlon represented-her life and career and heart and soul, she didn't let it possess her. Instead, in view of circumstances, she let it go. She had amazing strength, but more importantly, beautiful, beautiful courage. She had the maturity, courage and humility to say, not this year. She understood what it meant- the letting go of something she had pressed on so hard for, with the risk of disppointing many who had placed their hopes and invested themselves in her. In spite of all that pressure, she said no.

I have seen many, many people go on race day with an illness or injury, because they couldn't let it go. To me, that is dishonouring the sport. Triathlon teaches us to respect our body, there is no other way to finish a triathlon- I should know. There are still a few more races I'd like to do which I have yet to complete.

When people talk about "loving their bodies" or "loving themselves", they tend to mean the external appearance. After all, how many times have you heard people hating their thighs, or their hair or their legs. I am guilty. But your loving your body also means its inside bits, not just the soul or the spirit, but the ligaments, the arteries, the muscles- everything unseen.

Riding at 40kmph again taught me the importance of respecting one's body. The Big boys did 3 loops down the coast. I did 2. And that was enough. I went home and finished studying what I had set out to study that day. That is honouring the sport. It is giving it its proper time and place in our lives.

And in doing that, we honour God.

In the previous video, in spite of how inspiring it all was, I was disturbed when the man said he was "happy" only when he had finished those races. I like to believe that the happiness came more from the journey of understanding himself and loving his community than from its achievements. Reading this about honouring one's body and one's sport was, to say the least, inspiring.

I still wake up some days wishing I had better legs, that I could run or swim or bike better, that my hair wasn't so dry and I was leaner, but more importantly, I've come to enjoy steak and the occasional burger every once in a while, and learn the importance of loving and respecting my body, inside and out. It means being able to push it, to allow some indulgence, and being able to say no, and to let go.

2011 will be a new race year.

"For you created my inmost being,

You knit me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

Your works are wonderful,

I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you

When I was made in the secret place.

When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

Your eyes saw my unformed body.

All the days ordained for me,

Were written in your book, before one of them came to be..

How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!

How vast is the sum of them!

Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand.

When I awake, I am still with you.

- Psalm 139: 13-18

Shepherd's Voice.

Perhaps, one of the hardest lessons I have had to learn, was to stop listening to so many people. Even though there were many risk factors for the severity of my injury, the primary reason for it was my taking the bad advice of a pushy athlete who would criticise the fit of my bike every time we met. This is wrong, that is wrong, you should adjust this here, not doing this would just be stupid, listen to me…

Have you been in a situation like that before? Everybody has their own 2 cents to give you, and their advice, sometimes conflicting with one another, only leaves you more confused than you were to begin with.

I remember, just before a race, people would give me all sorts of advice. Because I was the only girl in my cycling group, I think some of the Big Boys saw it as their obligation to dish out advice from their personal experience. Don’t do this, don’t do that, remember this, remember that. What? I can’t believe he told you to do that, believe ME, that’s utter rubbish, do it my way, when I did THAT, I nearly died, oh my goodness don’t be a fool and take that sorta advice…

That’s the problem. Personal experience. Everyone has a different personal experience.

Recently, I had dinner with a Singaporean missionary doctor who has been serving the poor in Nigeria. With application dates for our specialty of choice looming ahead, I had many questions to face. What specialty do I choose? At which insititution? The one which has the best training or the nicest people? God, what did your signs mean? Were they even signs or mere coincidence?

For many months, I had been speaking to doctors, professors, my mentors, friends and my family for their opinions, perspectives and counsel. That day, the missionary doctor told me, “I can see you’ve done your research, Wai Jia. The thing is, I have no advice to give you other than for you to listen to the Shepherd’s voice. Giving you my opinion would simply be shaping you according to my own personal experience. I don’t want to do that because God has a brilliantly unique plan for every individual. And you are special.”

That was the best advice I'd received in months.

He went on to tell me how the cows in Nigeria from different farms would sometimes all get mixed up in the same field. But each time a farmer came and called out, only his own cattle would follow him home. “Listen to your Shepherd’s Voice,” was his advice.

They say there is safety in a multitude of counselors. But I am also learning, that too many cooks spoil the broth, and a crowd drowns out the True Voice which we ought to listen to. My injury taught me a good lesson. Had I listened to my instincts and left my bike the way it was, I might not have suffered so severe a blow. That day was the first day I had biked on it, trying out all the new advice I had received.

So I’m making my own decision about my specialty of choice, and about a crazy decision regarding an important issue. Unfortunately, it will not be an easy one because this decision will not please everyone. When you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go. This will upset some people, and disappoint others, but it is a decision I must make. After all, no missionary who went into the field to serve the poor ever pleased everybody before they took off. This is just a small simulation.

When I went to Nepal for 6 weeks to live in an orphanage by myself because I said I heard “God’s call”, even though it was the peak of the political unrest, my family thought I had gone mad. (They eventually sent me with their blessings, albeit with reservations as well.) When I finished writing A Taste of Rainbow and sent it to my publisher, with the intention of being open about my journey with depression to help other people find the courage to seek help and move forward, some people thought it was career suicide. Don’t do it, you’re foolish. Don’t you see, we’re stopping for your own good. Well, the soft launch is going to be in October.

When you’ve got to do it, you’ve just got to do it. I thank God He’s given me enough recklessness and foolhardiness. Someday, I think I will have to exercise the same resolve when it comes to marriage and my place for missions. I don’t think I will marry a normal person. And I don’t think I will necessarily go to a nice place for missions. But in other ways, I can sometimes be so overwhelmed by other people’s opinions. Do you think I should go? What should I do? Really? But what if?

I sometimes end up asking half the world, before deciding upon something. I forgot, the old me was always more independent, more single-minded. So I’ve decided, and I’m sorry you can’t stop me because I’m not telling. I’ve already told the people who need to know. Even some of the people close to me have been excluded from knowing, because sometimes, you just can’t please everyone.

I heard God calling me, it was the Shepherd’s Voice. Period. So it’s okay if people think I’m mad. What’s new anyway? I’ve decided. And if I haven’t already told you, I don’t intend to until I'm about to... take off.

Who are you listening to today?

"My sheep hear My voice,

and I know them,

and they follow Me."

-John 10:27

Your place.

I had been stalling it for ages. Deliberating about it deliberately because I still wanted it, wanted it in my house, wanted to see it, wanted to be reminded of the memories it brought back.

Then, with the injury and God teaching me about idolatry and letting things go, I decided I had to take the initiative to sell my old bike, the one my friends knew was too big for me and hence had bought me my new one called Faith.

Friends were pretty darned sure I could fetch a good price for it, egging me to post it up for more than I had paid for it.

I did so. But somehow, it just didn't feel right. And I held on to it even longer.

Months later, I changed the price online to a lower one. Three hundred dollars, negotiable.

The boy who wanted my bike contacted me. I could sense his earnesty over the many text messages he sent to me, making great efforts to my place to view the bike. He was 16 years old.

"My bike is pretty whacked up, you know," I said. "Look at all these scars."

"Yea, more than 3000 kilometres in a year is quite a lot."

"Yup, it's my first bike, so I've fallen quite a bit on it. Crashed on my first race."

" Well, could you give me a discount?" he said.

"Like what?" I was expecting him to mark the price down far lower, then bargain upwards.

"$270."

My heart broke- he was such an earnest boy, I thought he could've made a hard bargain to $200. He knew this bike was whacked up. I was honest about the lousy brakes, the basic groupset, the number of times I crashed and fell on it. One of the spokes was even faulty. Still, he wanted it, without finding fault and making things difficult for me- even though he really was an experienced biker, biking since he was five.

"All these are small things," he said. "I can fix them or make adjustments, don't worry."

"Where'd you get your money from? You had to save?"

"I sold my old mountain bike. And I got some money for my birthday 5 days ago."

"You sold your bike for?"

"$200."

He put $200 in my hands, and asked if he could give it to me as a deposit, so he could pick it up and pass me the balance another day. It was most bizarre, but it felt truly right to say, "Can I charge you $200 for it. Like, take it as a belated birthday present or something-your birthday was 5 days ago, right? I don't know, just feel I'd really like for you to enjoy the bike for what it's worth."

"Wow. Thank you." He was kind of stunned. Then awkwardly, he stretched out his hand to give me a handshake.

He didn't realise, he had done me a bigger favor than I did him.

That bike money didn't mean much to me. He was studying, he had saved up, he was so earnest. He wasn't poor or anything, but I knew that extra saving meant more to him than a few extra dollars would to me. It was about letting go of material idols and possessions (the bike), of the enslavement to money (the thrill of getting a good deal), and of the need to ride.

Pastor Y said before, we should never try to make money out of someone else, especially when we know how much we had paid for the original- never mind if the other person was agreeable to the quoted high price.

"If this first bike means so much to you, why don't you keep it as a momento?" he asked.

"I've got only 2 legs, not 4, friend," I joked.

As I mulled over how money has usurped a part of each of us, and yet how few of us are willing to admit our greed, it made me conscious of our consumeristic, me-centric culture. I like. I try. I buy. We less often think twice when we're spending on ourselves, because unconsciously, we measure ourselves against the people around us, and surely, there are those better-off than us, those who spend more than us. I find myself unconsciously reminding myself that I hardly ever buy branded things and when I do buy from MANGO, it's always during a warehouse sale. I've never bought an item at TOPSHOP, Dorothy Perkins or Forever 21. Ever. (See how I try to justify myself, even here.)

But I buy things all the same, even when I already have enough tops, enough shirts, enough shoes. And then I find myself stinging on people. Calculating. How much of a discount should I give you, how good a deal can I clinch. As I was buying groceries for Uncle Z, my friend said to me, "Here, this brand is cheaper."

"No," I said. "Let's get something better."

Why should buying groceries for the disadvantaged always be a look-out for discount items? Why can't I spend the money I would use for that extra shirt on myself to buy something a little more decent for someone else who may not have the privilege to enjoy it?

I sound very noble for now, but only I know my consistent inconsistency.

So the boy came, very sportingly allowed me to take a picture of him and my last look at my first roadbicycle and wheeled him off. An hour later, another friend came to collect the bike-trainer he had lent me. (A bike trainer is a contraption one places on one's bike so one can do stationary cycling at home.) Now, I truly can't train anymore on my roadbike.

I went to an osteopath today for the newly discovered scoliosis they found and he said, "I'm not sure if you should ever return to doing triathlons." The tears just came. I couldn't stop them.

Thank you God, for teaching me to release my idols slowly, be they a possession or money or a hobby. Nothing else should take Your place.

Destroying Aphrodite.

"Something is safe for us to maintain in our lives

only if it has really stopped being an idol.

That can happen only if we are

truly willing to live without it,

when we truly say from the heart, '

Because I have God, I can live without you.'

Sometimes, God seems to be killing us when he's actually saving us."

- Counterfeit gods by Timothy Keller

Most, if not all girls take some pride in their appearance. Conventionally pretty or not, females were made with the desire to be beautiful. Vanity becomes a problem when beauty and pride become central. Eating disorders, shopping addictions and insecurities manifest.

It was not until today that I realised, God was not only asking me to let go of my sport, but my security in fleshly things too- things I never thought were wrong. After all, which human being doesn't take some pride in his appearance?

I was at my church bookstore buying the last copy of Counterfeit Gods when at the counter, a parent of one of my sunday school kids came up to tell me, in a perfectly matter-of-fact manner, "Oh, you've put on weight, yea?" And I looked at her, momentarily stunned, and wondered if that tone of voice would have been more appropriate at commenting on the weather. I smiled. "Yes I have... I fractured something lately so have been unable to train." I said it after hesitating a little, not too defensively, yet, as if I had to have explanation for how I am now.

In the female world, commenting on somebody else's weight has many implications- there are typically undercurrents suggesting one's lack of control and one's inability to manage oneself. It is not a topic to bring up unless it goes in one direction-downwards. Yes, the female species is complex, indeed.

As I made my purchase of the book at the counter with this lady in front of me, I knew, God was testing me. What was my counterfeit god? Triathlon, my bike, and... Aphrodite.

It wasn't until then that I realised, I have always taken a lot of pride in how I projected myself. Aphrodite, is an earthen goddess- horses are sacred to her; Beauty, is my a false idol- my bike is paramount to me-for more reasons than meet the eye.

Just very recently, I finally found the physiotherapist I had been praying for. Out of so many contacts I had been given and I had spoken with, she is the only one who clearly understands this particular injury of mine. When she heard of my case through a friend's friend, she buzzed me and said, "How old are you?"

"23."

"Are you a runner and a biker?"

"Yes."

"Are you vegetarian?"

It was then that I knew she understood. The fracture of the inferior ramus at the site of insertion of the adductor magnus is a very rare sports injury, common only in a specific subgroup of athletes- the young female athlete with a past history of a poor diet, eating disorder, amenorrhea or all of the above. My history was classic.

"Oh, you must be surprised," she said. "That's because my research project was based on adductor tears and these type of fractures. Sure, I'd love to help."

Most physiotherapists have hardly even heard of this injury, much less encountered it. AL was the first one who knew what she was talking about, who understood with such depth the intricate relations of all the muscles, tendons and bones involved in this painfully slow-healing injury. She predicted my sites of pain even before I told her, understood exactly why I was hurting in both my legs even though I had hurt only one. She spent a long time with me. I had never seen anyone so meticulous before.

Our first session was not easy. A lot of my strength had left me. I had put on weight. I was tired of exercising in any way, because of the pain. Doing core exercises and pilates looked slow and effortless but was in fact, very tiring. As we went through rehab exercise after rehab exercise, I suddenly understood the humour in the whole thing: God had given me exactly what I had prayed for months ago, when I asked Him to teach me what it meant to work from a posture of rest. I wasn't moving from my spot, but it sure was a lot of hard work.

All this while, I realised, my appearance had been my counterfeit god, my source of security, something I knew the world could see. My training in triathlon was my counterfeit god, because it helped me control my weight, maintain my tan, and was a great conversation topic to boost my self-esteem. I never did core exercises because I didn't see the value of strengthening myself from the inside, since no one would see the results anyway. Running, swimming and biking and being constantly on the adrenalish rush-go was far more exciting. I didn't realise till today, how superficial my mindset has been, all this while, all these years.

Do you sometimes, in some ways, live for others too? For just, a brief moment of their applause?

In the same way, running around being involved in projects and ministries and being busy was also a false god in itself. I knew it was something the world could see. Like cardiovascular exercise, the spiritual endorphins made me feel good about myself. But I neglected my spiritual core, not taking enough time to study the bible in depth. After all, doing things has always been far more glamorous, a much easier way to gain praise and honour from men.

Who enjoys sitting in one place doing painful core exercises? Who likes to sit in one place studying the bible? Boring, isn't it, compared to being on stage performing an acrobatic act. I didn't realise, that I had always made myself my own god.

"Wai Jia, you know, one's cardiovascular activity must be matched with one's core strength. This was like a time-bomb inside of you. With your history, diet, weak core muscles, and scoliosis, this would have happened, sooner or later. It was a ticking time bomb. "

I know. My activity should have been matched with taking time to strengthen my spiritual core, too. And the time bomb blew because I had allowed training and Aphrodite to rival God's place in my life. That day, I compromised on my work ethic. The junior doctor said it was a public holiday and a sunday, hence I needn't show up at the hospital for my shift. But I knew, deep down, that I ought to have showed up. Why should I base my actions on other people's standards? I compromised on my work ethic that day because something else, something counterfeit, took priority that day. I wanted one last training session before my race. I relied on my own strength. I wanted to burn more calories. And I adjusted my bike seat higher than it should have been because someone said I would go faster.

Idolatry, insecurity, self-sufficiency. Foolishness. That's when the time bomb blew.

Hence, I got injured, spiritually and physically. It would have been sooner or later. I never knew I had scoliosis.

In the bible, there's a story about a man whose central prayer in his life was to have a son. When God finally did bless him with a son named Isaac and promised that he would have many descendants, He told him to kill Isaac. God told him to bring Isaac, the son he so dearly loved, up the mountain to kill him. And the man obeyed, because he trusted God. Just at the moment of slaughter, God intervened and Isaac was spared.

How can God be so masochistic. On the outside, it seems like He was being cruel. But really, He was dealing with the destructive idols in the man's life and teaching him to put his value and security in God alone, rather than in his son. Nothing on earth belongs to us, nothing.

A friend had jokingly asked me a week ago whether his wife could ride my bike since I was now injured. I laughed out loud, because surely he knew it was an almost $3000 gift, and almost brandnew. Days later, I wrote to him saying he could come anytime, because God was teaching me to cling loose, to let go.

As I walked out from my phyiotherapist's home, a tree with sinewy roots caught my eye. It reminded me of a dream and vision I had years ago, and served to remind me not to make physiotherapy, pilates or anything else for that matter, my new god.

I am learning, that it's time for me to go up the mountain and lay my Isaac down. I've to let triathlon go, have to accept there could be a possibility of me never biking with my biking buddies again or taking part in another race. I have to accept that I will inevitably gain some weight during this process and learn to have more compassion for myself and others. And I must realise, that I could possibly gain the weight and never lose it again. Would I be okay with that?

The pain at the fracture site lingers still. "Be patient Wai Jia, this sort of fracture takes a really long time to heal because it's very hard to immobilise that muscle. I understand it's painful."

My publisher says my next book, A Taste of Rainbow should be out by October, that's also when my self-imposed 100-day bike fast ends. May that healing (spiritual, physical and emotional) be wholly complete by then.

Meanwhile, I'm going up the mountain with my Isaacs. Aphrodite must be destroyed.

"We need to find a way to keep from clutching them too tightly,

of being enslaved to them...

As many have learned and later taught,

you don't realise God is all you need

until God is all you have."

-Timothy Keller

"I also want women to dress modestly,

with decency and propriety, not with braided hair or gold or pearls or expensive clothes,

but with good deeds,

appropriate for women who profess to worship God. "

-1 Tim 2:9

Stay on the Road

“Lovers, keep on the road you’re on.

Runners, until the race is done.”

-Coldplay, Lovers in Osaka

Even God did not leave this road unscathed.

Just because we’re injured, doesn’t mean we get off the road. We stay on. We may slow down, but it doesn’t mean we give up.

When I first flew off my bike two-thirds into the race that day, I picked myself up and finished it, even though it was a painful fall. Why should things be different now? Just because this particular hospital is not treating me right and has absolutely disappointed me and left me in despair about my recovery, doesn’t mean I should be discouraged. I’ve had it. I now understand why people affectionately dub that place the Cannot-Go-Home hospital (excuse the grammatical error), I’m finding my own help and I’m going to get well.

Same for you. Just because you’re injured doesn’t mean you stop and get off the road. Just because your mentor doesn’t know how to help you doesn’t mean you’re a gone case. We’re more resilient than we think. Get down. Pray. Then get up. Walk. Find your own mentor, your own doctor. Get your own help. God sends angels on a regular basis. Why should you give up?

Get your feet back on the road.

I remember two years ago when I was in therapy, I thought I would never run again. I thought they would make me stop forever. But we forget, that life goes on in seasons. Winter comes but winter goes, and spring will surely arrive. The break was essential. And when God put me back on the road, I was not only running, but swimming and biking, too.

We return stronger when we allow God to do the work which needs to be done in a season of rest.

When God stops us and forces us to rest, we can use it as an opportunity to disqualify ourselves from the race, or use it as a rest-stop to return stronger- both physically and emotionally. But we must first let go. God, I’m going to have to accept, that I’ll still love you just as much even if you tell me I can never do another triathlon again. Through this injury, I discovered, that I love the triathlon sport truly for what it is. But I’m letting it go. I have to.

I found out, my pelvic stress fracture injury was due to many factors, and I had most of the high-risk ones: The females athelete’s triad consists of a history of amenorrhea, an eating disorder and osteoperosis; Another physiotherapist discovered I have scoliosis (an S-shaped spine), which aggravates hamstring injuries; they told me I have very tight and weak back and core muscles, and very flat feet, which add severe stress on my pelvis when I run or bike. The injury is due to an overextension of the leg muscles, which happened when I took the wrong advice of someone to raise my bike seat higher, when it already had been fitted well.

Most of all, I was greedy. And proud. And self-sufficient. All those factors had been there for years, but my flesh pushed myself over the cliff.

But it’s not over. God is a God of mercy and grace. His grace allows for second chances. So I’m not giving up. Both my legs feel like Styrofoam when I walk now, but it’s not over. I’m going to get proper help. I’m going to learn from my mistakes and get back up on the road. If Ezzy and Fungus can get back on the road, you and I can too.

So I’m going to keep walking, walking.

Stay on the road, finish the journey.


From a friend

"Be thankful that the road is long and challenging,

because that is where you’ll find the best that life has to offer."

— Ralph Marston

"The Lord gives wisdom . . .

guards the course of the just and protects the way of his faithful ones.

Then you will understand what is right and just and fair

-- every good path."
-Proverbs 2:6, 8-9 (NIV)

On my knees.

Shrugging it off, keeping a straight face and acting strong about it was not courage, but pride. Perhaps it was for my own sake that I always kept a strong front and said, "It's okay, I'm fine. No problem, God is good."

I didn't realise until today, while sitting in my physiotherapist's room, just how much it hurt.

"How've you been doing?"

"I'm good, it's no big deal," I said. Then the tears came and wouldn't stop, and I was surprised because I had never cried that much about my injury before. There were a few tears in the beginning, but I always stiffened up and told myself that it was no big deal.

Stop being such a wuss, people have all sorts of terrible illnesses and have had to cope with them. Think about the patient you spoke to today. She had a brain and intestinal infection from her medication for her inborn blood disorder and you don't see her crying and calling for a pity party, do you.

Today, I realised, that that was not courage, but pride. And until I could allow myself to fall apart at God's feet, to say I am sad, I am affected, He could not begin the healing work in my heart.

I'm sad about this fracture, that it's not healing well. Is that wrong? To know that I will not be able to do what I love, to run nor bike for a year, maybe more. To know that, like many athletes who have written about their pelvic stress fractures online, I may never run or bike properly ever again- contrary to what the doctors say. To know that anorexia had so much to do with this specific type of injury, that the illness has returned to remind me of its evil. To be constantly reminded of the pain when I'm walking and even sitting.

"Let's work around this. What would you like to do? You can always find substitutes. I know a very good aerobics class teacher, and also, we have... ... "

But I didn't want to. Deep down inside, I knew God's message for me this season was to rest, not to run around finding replacements for what He intentionally took away. This is a season for throwing old crutches away so I can truly find what ought to be important to me- God. This is a season for me to realise that unless I learn my lesson to stop self-striving, to appreciate the art of living life with balance and in moderation, I will keep making the same mistake of hurting myself, over and over, in different ways.

"No, I'm through with this. I don't want to do this anymore. I'm hanging up my bike. I don't want to do this rehab thing anymore- it's not helping, it's giving me pain."

I think she knew that I knew that they knew very little about pelvic stress fractures.

"... I think you've hit more than a road bump. You've hit a wall, haven't you?"

Yes, so I have. This is it, God. This is what you wanted right? To have me on my knees. After all, this was what I prayed for, to learn humility and to always remain broken and contrite before you. You have such a sense of humour.

I wanted to skip my physiotherapy appointment today because we had class. But class got cancelled, and a random acquaintance on Facebook ( a paramedic I met a year ago) offered to drive me from my hospital in the west to my physiotherapist in the east- I wouldn't have made it otherwise.

And so you don't know how much it meant to me, to find your email when I got home. I was tired from crying, I wanted to sleep, and then your words gave me strength and reminded me that God provides us with strength through angels at every step of the way.

Dear Wai Jia,

How are you? I don't think you would remember me, but I wrote to you really long ago and you replied me with a whole long blogpost and two beautiful pictures I still keep printed and stuffed in my diary. Thank you so much for that reply, i never expected you would reply so wholeheartedly to a 'stranger'. I read and reread your letter, and I thank God for speaking to me through your words.

I still read your blog when I have the time and I think you are really an inspiration to so many of us out day who are trying to cope with this illness. I'll be doing my A levels in december, I never imagined even being here because two years ago, all I wanted was to take pills and sleep forever.

The stuff you shared gave me courage to visit a dumpsite in phillippines and i just broke down and cried over there, to see how the little kids can love God so much when they have so little....Dear Wai Jia, you're really brave and I know you will be a wonderful missionary doctor. I think you've touched many with the stuff you wrote, me, for one. I would love to be a doctor too, but sshhh, don't tell anyone because so many people tell me that it's impossible, especially with everything that has happened in the past. Sometimes, I feel like telling them that 'I know a girl who suceeded!', but I end up just agreeing I should pursue some other career.

Recently I read about your injury, I just wanted to say take care (: I don't have much beautiful words of encouragement to give, just that I'm sure God loves you so much that this is all His plan. Someone once told me that God gave her cancer so she could comfort those with cancer when she overcame it. Perhaps that is too, God made you go through all these so that you can share with so many out there. Don't ever underestimate the power of what you write...I am some random stranger in some random corner of Singapore, but I find HOPE each time in your writtings.

Please tell me if I could help anyway in the project of A Taste of Rainbow, it's a wonderful thought that people out there will come to know more. You're truly a rainbow to me, and to many others i'm sure... and may you always stay as one.

God bless you always.

With love,
T

Thank you, T, for leaving a note. Thank you for reminding me of God's good purposes and plans for our lives. I cried when I read your note, because these past few days, I've been meeting so many people who asked me pointedly, "So do you still want to be a missionary doctor?" and "When will you start seeing someone? Don't you know it's important to settle down? I don't think you're short of suitors, so what's the problem?"

I cried, because I find myself understanding the realities of life now, the burdens and tempatations and strongholds that possessions and the world can have on us. Even in the past year, I have changed, and I worry about the kind of person and doctor I am becoming.

I cried, because just today as I walked home from the hospital, I thought to myself, how foolish I have been to tell God I have no time to go out and do this dating crap because I am busy training and studying and doing my own things, and what's wrong with that, when the truth is that, I have too much pride. I'm fine by myself, God. All these people end up hurting me anyway. And then I realised, that unless I take the opportunity to humble my own heart in this regard, God could very well choose to break me in another way I least imagined.

Break me, not because He is sadistic, but because of His great, unfathomable love.

And thank you, T, for giving me a new perspective about my injury- that even though it hurts me to know that anorexia had a large part to play in it, that this can be an experience to strengthen not only myself but other injured patients and athletes. Interestingly, by divine coincidence, I bumped into a friend today, who's one of the top triathletes in our country. I shared with him the story about my injury, and he said his sister had suffered the exact same thing. "She trains more than me, is skinny as a stick, hasn't even had her period even though she's almost 20 and had a fracture on her inferior ramus some time back. "

Thank you, T, for reminding me, that my story isn't over, and I have a responsibility, to myself, God and others, to get well. Even this fracture, is part of the Rainbow story that has yet to be finished. I have to admit, I'm falling apart, but it is in a good kind of way, in the way I had prayed for. I'm so, so glad you had a memorable time in the Philippines, and I hope that won't be your last trip.

Okay God, you win. I surrender. This biking thing is over, I'm hanging up shoes up, and I'm on my knees.

"Woe to the obstinate children," declares God,

"to those who carry out plans that are not mine, ...

This is what the Sovereign God... says:

"In repentance and rest is your salvation,

in quietness and trust is your strength,

but you would have none of it.
You said, 'No, we will flee on horses.'

Therefore you will flee!

Yet the LORD longs to be gracious to you;

he rises to show you compassion.

For the LORD is a God of justice.

Blessed are all who wait for him!

How gracious he will be when you cry for help!

As soon as he hears, he will answer you.

Although the Lord gives you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction,

your teachers will be hidden no more;

with your own eyes you will see them.

Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying,

"This is the way; walk in it."

Then you will defile your idols overlaid with silver and your images covered with gold;

you will throw them away like a menstrual cloth and say to them,

"Away with you!"

-Isaiah 30: 1-2, 15-16, 18-22

Lessons from my Physiotherapist.

* I am obviously on a writing spree- too many thoughts on this holiday season!

They say winter is essential, because it is the time for the ground to rest, for it to fallow and be still before another busy spring and summer and harvest time. In his book Pilgrims, missionary doctor Dr Tan Lai Yong writes that it is in winter that one observes certain farmers in China carrying buckets of water up dangerously steep slopes in a determined attempt to water what looks like barren ground. They do so, because they know it is only in winter that the roots of a certain crop grow deep, and these roots are necessary for the saplings to grow strong later on.

This has been a winter season for me, both physically and spiritually. Physiotherapy comes with frost.

Aunty Ay told me, "I'm quite sure God's hand was in your training. Triathlon was a way of getting you back in good health. Once you were well, that season ended. Now however, is a time of reflection, of taking stock of all the lessons you've learnt thus far. I've noticed a pattern in your participation in sports- it's comes in seasons. But I also notice that every time you enter winter, you also come back stronger when spring arrives. It's not a vicious cycle. It's an upward spiral. So take heart, and heed your lessons learnt well."

I could see where Aunty Ay was coming from. Last season when I was biking, I learnt many things about Faith. In this season, I am learning many things about Grace.

In my last physiotherapy session, my physiotherapist suggested that I tore so many muscles so badly due to an incorrect use of my cycling muscles. "From the way you cycle, I can see you're not maximising all your muscle groups so a lot of strain is placed on your quadriceps and hamstrings. Definitely not ideal. I need you to work on those extra muscles you've not been using."

It then occurred to me: In the same way, does God, in His love, put a halt in our lives at some point because he needs us to work on certain undeveloped areas before we can return stronger? I know sometimes I go so fast that I neglect certain areas of my life, and God can sometimes use illness, difficulties or simply a season of winter to interrupt my busyness, so I am forced to address those spiritually-deficient areas and strengthen those muscles needed to be a better person. Perhaps sometimes, it is only when we stop that we can actually reflect, pray and work properly on ourselves, be it in areas of developing patience, grace or learning to surrender our impure motives.

When I had injured my gracilis muscle (among other things), and was forced to stop, I was able to free my mind to reflect upon the importance of Grace, and the importance of depending more on God's strength instead of my own flesh.

I suspect, the reason why I use my muscles incorrectly is because I didn't grow up cycling. I only learnt how to cycle less than 2 years ago. Similarly, I believe some of us have grown up without ever learning certain lessons, such as exercising faith, being sensitive to others or God's voice, or learning to trust God. These incidents which God allows to interrupt our journey then become milestones in our learning journey, seasons of winter to prepare us for a better harvest in the year ahead.

As we take time to stop and strengthen those muscles we never knew existed, and learn the lessons, skills and values we once were ignorant to, we then become more equipped and ready to take on harder battles ahead.

"Will I be able to race again next time? I mean, not anytime soon, but in future?"

"Of course. You're doing well. And next time, you'll know how to do it properly so you can come back stronger. Just, don't make the same mistake twice. Continue with physiotherapy faithfully and don't take short cuts."

I suppose, when one fails to use the opportunity given to strengthen our weaker spiritual muscles, and learn the lessons we were meant to learn, we could very well injure ourselves in the same place, and that injury would be much more serious.

"Remember, take this time to rest well and continue with physiotherapy. Because if you're too eager to jump back into your previous routine, you could put yourself back to square one."

I suppose, when God tells us to stop and reflect, we really must.

So, if like me, you're caught in winter and anxious to run ahead again, pause and remember the importance of this season. Take time to be watered, and let your roots grow deep. Because surely, spring and summer will come again.

Champion.

I went to the hospital to visit. To be honest, I had put it off time and again. Some part of me knew she might have too many visitors. And indeed, while I was there and another group of visitors were about to arrive, I heard her say weakly, "I don't want everybody here."

I left very shortly. Just wanted you to know Jiejie (big sister) Wai Jia is waiting for you to come back to my class for Sunday School.

" These are for you. You pick one for yourself, and one for your younger sister."

"I pick this one. Rainbow! Rainbow bear for me and this is... Sunshine. Sunshine bear for mei-mei (younger sister)!

That was the one out of the two I had originally picked for her.

To which her mother replied, "Yes, Rainbow. It means holding on to God's promises."

That evening, when I got home, I received a package in the mail. The scrawly handwriting on the envelope made me smile.

My friend had liver cancer when he was 11. The doctors gave him 6 months to live. He had a liver transplant. They talk about prolonging life spans up till 10 years. He is now 30. That's 18 years of life lived well. And, did I forget to mention, he did an Iron Man event? That's like... a 3.8km swim, 180km bike ride and a full 42.2km marathon event. That's... crazy. Yeah, I know. And amazing, too. Read his inspiring story here.

I was in awe when I opened the package. It contained a card for her, and the gold medal he won for Canada in the World Transplant Games Australia Gold Coast 2009.

His card:

His gold medal:

He doesn't even know her. He hasn't even met her. She's my Sunday school kid who's suffering. It's his gold medal. It's a champion's medal. Not just for any small race, but for the World Transplant Games.

This just completely blows my mind.

I suppose, he understands completely, how it feels like to be sick when one is still a child.

Be strong, darling. You're a champion in our hearts already. Sometimes, I don't really know how to pray for you, I don't know what to tell God. But you're in our hearts dear. And we'll be by your side. Be strong, because Rainbow Bear and Sunshine Bear want to play, too.

Love you.

Sharpened pencils.

"Children, what is this?"

All eyes were glued on the teacher during Sunday school yesterday.

"A PENCIL!!"

"Is a pencil useful?"

"YEEEESSS!!!!"

"Is the eraser bit useful?"

"YEEEEEESSSS!!"

"But this pencil can't be used for writing yet, can it? And why not?"

"YOU NEED A SHARPENER! SHARPEN IT!!"

"Yes. Don't you think we are like pencils? Unless we allow ourselves to be sharpened by God, we will never become useful."


God, why is it you always grip my heart the way you do in Sunday School. I feel like a 7-year old when I learn your lessons.


I had just journalled about the importance of writing our plans in pencil so God can use His eraser in our planning, when I was forced to walk my own talk.

I decided, that even though I had planned to do the Olympic distance triathlon and my first full marathon this year, I would stop.

I just don't see the point of racing anymore, not this season at least. My bike Faith was a beautiful present. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing will ever change the many priceless lessons that God taught me through the sport, the invaluable friendships I was blessed with and the wonderful memories of that season.

But it is important to realise, that that season has passed.

Yesterday was my first day in the Neurology department, and I was put under one of the most intense, and inspiring doctors I have ever met. Dr. L heads the most prestigious neurology department in Singapore and is well-known for being a doctor with both head and heart, for patients as well as students. He is famous among students for being able to remember even the tiniest details about them, and for his genuinity in getting to know them. He spends about an hour a day teaching students neurology, and lots of time talking to them about life.

Today, he talked to us about Responsibility. "Whether you admit it or not, you are part of an 'elite' group in society which has a Responsibility to the 'non-elite'. What does the word 'elite' mean to you?"

Snob. Bad attitude. Arrogant. Inability to relate to others. These were just some of the answers given.

"As a doctor, the most important thing you must remember is to be able to relate to your patients. Don't you know, that the so-called 'non-elite' in our society are the people who have helped you through life the most? My daughter was doing a project at her research laboratory. Who helped her open the door to the labs every morning at 7am faithfully? It was an old grandmother, the lady sweeper. When she finished her project, she gave the grandmother a box of chocolates and a card. The old grandma nearly cried. These people are the 'non-elite' and they have served you. Now, it is your responsibility to take care of them. Are you doing your best?"

Something stirred inside of me, something that was once near, and now further away than I wished.

"Wai Jia," he turned to look at me. " Ah, so this month we're going to eat, live, and breathe neurology, right?"

"Yes, sir," I said.

" What if you can't swim, bike and run?"

I looked at him, amazed that he remembered this tiny scrap of detail which he had found out about me at least 4 months ago. He enjoys dropping bombs randomly on students, just to keep them on their toes.

"It's okay. I'm prepared."

He turned to everyone in the room and said to them, "Everyone, mark what Wai Jia just said."

"I'm sure, sir."

He turned to look at me again. He has an intense stare. " Medicine, must be an obsession. For your patients' sake."

The way he said it, and the context in which it was said, touched my face across my brow and sank right into the depths of me, and gripped my core.

An obsession. Now where have I heard that before. His words were like a dream that grew tired and turned its back on me, a long long time ago.

"I don't tolerate mediocrity. And I believe that in life, we ought to remember three things. One, where your treasure is, your heart will also be. So always, yong xin. For everything you do, do it with full concentration."

Yong Xin, when translated from mandarin literally, means to use one's heart. Metaphorically, it means to be conscientious and wholehearted in everything one does. I couldn't remember his exact words, but I knew he implied that he didn't approve of the sport if it went further than recreation.

Have I not been wholehearted in the pursuit of medicine, in my responsibility to those who matter? I thought about the routine of work, the waning passion towards certain specialties, the self-doubt- can I ever become the doctor I thought I would become? Who am I becoming, and why do I not like what I see. I thought about the "well-balanced" image protrayed through my varied interests and activities, and its contrast to reality- in actuality, one can spread oneself too thin.

"Two, one must learn obedience. Three, read a lot of books. And if you're a girl, marry a man smarter than you."

My first two years of medical school were spent largely being ill. It was by God's grace I actually got through them. A brain doesn't think very well when it is constantly starved. My third year was spent in and out of hospital and skipping lessons to go for medical appointments and getting back on track. My fourth year was my first solidly stable year, where medicine became thoroughly enjoyable. Now that I am a final year medical student, I have one more year to get my act together to become the kind of doctor I had aspired to be.

I am now a final year medical student. I need to know my priorities, my Responsibility.

I eventually thanked Dr. L. To which he replied through a smiley-faced text message, "I don't mince my words :) I'm glad you took it positively."

Sports is not wrong. But there is a time and season for everything. And for now, after much thought and prayer, I know racing must go. I will certainly still swim, bike and run, but only for leisure, health and friendship. There will be a season to do a triathlon someday. That time is not now. I only have 24 hours in a day- I write, I teach, I have another project coming up, I visit patients. These things, and not my indulgence in my hobbies, are what will count for eternity.

Perhaps, it was more than coincidence that the prayer story for last night was based on the bible verse, "Do not work for food that spoils, but for food that endures to eternal life."- John 6:27.

It was a sobering thought, to realise how all our time ought to be spent working towards something of value. There was a season to bike, and to learn lessons. There is now a season to stop, so I can continue learning lessons, and not stagnate.

So I took all my medals, put them in a pouch, and gave them all to Dr. L. I was surprised at the tears when I packed them, because of the memories each one held. My first triathlon. My first half-marathon. My first 40km bike race on Faith. My first 90km bike race on Faith. A race I didn't do because of my injury.

I knew deep down, that it was something I had to do.

Because where your treasure is, there your heart will also be. The chapter about Faith has closed and a new one has begun. The lessons learnt from biking and racing can certainly be put into my studies- lessons of endurance, focus and discipline. It's about time I settled down to finish the unfinished business in my work and work on my proficiency as a doctor. Because in less than a year's time, that's what people will be calling me. Doctor.

I can serve them by being a better student and doctor. But what has another personal medal got to do with them? There is a lot of peer pressure in the field of sports, and I just have to learn to say it's enough for me, and trust that those who matter to me will respect that decision. There is a lot of peer pressure in this field, a lot of unecessary goading.

This injury has certainly been the best thing that has happened to me this year. And I'm just glad my plans were all written in pencil, and that God, not me, holds the eraser. Sharpening may be painful, but I'm sure all this has a purpose, and at the end, it will be for good. I would be more useful, certainly, in working not for food that spoils, but for that which endures to eternity.

God, help me to put my heart right where it should be.

Even while I'm tearing and struggling and learning to let go.

Now where's that neurology textbook I was looking for.

"It is his work. I am like a little pencil in his hand.
That is all.
He does the thinking.
He does the writing.
The pencil has nothing to do with it."
-Mother Teresa

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

- Matthew 6:21

"Do not work for food that spoils,

but for food that endures to eternal life."

-John 6:27

After Peniel.

And when He saw that he could not overcome Jacob,

He touched the sinew of Jacob's thigh, and forthwith it shrank.

- Genesis 32:25, Douay-Rheims Bible

I finally understand. After 17 days of hurting and thinking and asking, I finally understand.

It is Day 17 since that fateful day. 17 days since I was put on a wheelchair at the Emergency department because I could neither walk nor stand. I am still hurting now, even while walking.

There were 2 things I could not fathom. One, why my muscle tore, and tore so badly, when God knew my heart was in His hands, when I made so much effort to prioritise my family, friends, church and God above my hobby. Two, why I felt such incredible relief, joy and freedom as I rested from my injury, why I have this unspeakable assurance that God loves me profoundly, when I should be sore at Him.

"Wai Jia, you have the tendency to throw yourself 110% into everything that you do. I think that this is His way of telling you to have more reserve for Him."

There was truth in that. Yet, the incredible relief which came with this period of complete rest surprised and delighted me, in the most unexpected way. How much I enjoyed this enforced break from training intrigues me. I no longer feel like biking, or running. I don't even feel like touching the pool. I've packed my bike away. I have been ushered into a season of rest, of reflecting and journalling, of connecting with people, of considering again what it means to be a responsible steward of the talents and resources I've been given to serve the people around me. Suddenly, I have time to cook for my family, more time to pray, more time to reconsider how I can be a better friend, daughter and person.

I have failed in many ways.

I just don't feel like going for races anymore, not anytime soon, at least.

Why did it have to happen this way, God? Why were you trying to teach me. Did I really displace you from my life again?

After 17 days of walking with a normal but painful gait, I finally understand. The pain was perfect in helping me consolidate my thoughts.

I wrote about this biblical story before, but never saw it in this new light until now.

Many years ago, there was a man named Jacob. He was a good man who really loved God. He was very gifted. But he had a bad habit of leaning on his own strength without trusting God enough, even if what he strived for were righteous things, good things. It was good that he wanted to have his family's birthright (an honorable inheritance), but instead of trusting God, he stole it from his brother, Esau. It was good that he wanted reconciliation with his Esau, but instead of trusting God for restoration, he devised his own plan to placate his brother, divided his army into 2 camps and crossed the river with his own staff so as to avoid a possible death should Esau opt for revenge.

Jacob strived for good things, things which God promised him. Nothing wrong with that. But he did it with his own strength, without trust in or dependence on God's spirit. He devised a plan and crossed the river with his own strength, with his own staff, so as to preserve his life.

One day, when Jacob was left alone, an angel came to wrestle with him. For his own good, God had to pin him down in a place of struggle so he would let go of his own strength. In the fierce tussle, the angel "touched the sinew of his thigh, and forthwith it shrank", and Jacob's strength left him.

The wrestle led Jacob to a place of desperation and struggle, which led him to a place of brokenness (where he suffered a thigh injury) which led, however, to a breakthrough which led to a tranformation, where he was given a new name and a new understanding of God. He named that place where he met God face to face Peniel, which means the face of God.

Before Peniel, Jacob feared for his life. He didn't trust God enough to protect him and relied on his own strength to lean on his own staff. After Peniel, however, with the strength from his hip and thigh gone, he learnt to leaned on God's strength, to trust God more, to rest more in God's spirit.

Before Peniel, he named places and built pillars, symbolising his many ambitions. After Peniel, however, he named places and built altars, instead, symbolising his worship for God instead of himself.

Before Peniel, Jacob said this, and did this and that. After Peniel, it was God who said and did this and that to Jacob.

After 17 days of pain (with more to come), I think I finally understand. That fateful day, I was in Peniel.

Jacob strived for good things, things which God promised him. Nothing wrong with that. But he did it with his own strength, without trust in or dependence on God's spirit. He devised a plan and crossed the river with his own strength on his own staff.

I strive for good things, things in line with God's blessings. Nothing wrong with that. But too often, I do so with my own strength, with insufficient trust in God. That day when I biked, I did so because I was afraid I wasn't sufficiently prepared for the race. I tried to cross my river with my own strength on my own.

Do you have races in your life, deadlines you must meet, projects you need to do, exams you must pass, and do you strive to excel in them? Nothing wrong with that. But do you, like me, strive with your own effort without trusting God to bring you across the river? God revealed to me, that I don't trust Him enough with my dreams, my future, my relationships and my plans. I am always planning, always on the move.

And God, in His love, finally had to say STOP.

Then the angel came and touched the sinew of my inner thigh, and forthwith it shrank. I had to stop. The pain crippled me, reduced me and yet, nothing could help me fathom how thankful I was for the injury.

Because it taught me, that in life, no matter how much we say or think we love God, people, the marginalised, good works etc, we mustn't carry out our acts of good deeds or embark on projects without fully trusting and depending on God. I cannot live my life striving with self-effort. I cannot cross my river with my own strength on my staff. I cannot finish the race by myself.

In literature, angels are God's messengers to intervene in our lives for our good. Perhaps God, in His love, had sent an angel like he did to Jacob to teach me this beautiful lesson.

I realised, that my joy came from knowing what a divinely valuable lesson I am learning from this experience. I learnt, that God loves us enough to stop us when we need to. I learnt, that I desperately need to learn to trust God with all abandon, not only in sports, but in medicine, in missions, in my future and my relationships with people.

Like Jacob, I like taking things into my own hands. I justify it by saying it's what God wants for me. But being touched by an angel reminded me, that I still need to surrender, still need to let go, and simply... let God. I need to stop being such a control freak over my own life.

After Peniel, Jacob, the ambitious deceiver, was given a new name called Israel, which means "he who struggles with God and overcomes". New names symbolise divine transformation. Since that day, Jacob learned to lean on his staff using God's strength, instead of relying on his inner thigh and hip, which symbolised his own strength.

Today is Day 17. The pain had been improving steadily till yesterday when, for some reason, it got worse again. It reminded me to Let Go. It reminded me that this season is a time for me to be transformed in my spirit. It reminded me that life after Peniel shall be different. What is it that I still do not trust God fully in.

Oh God, so many things.

I know, this pain will persist and complete healing will only come when I learn this lesson well. I know, one day, I will finish a race, and it will be with God's strength, not mine.

And I am compelled to rejoice, yes, even in this pain, even when I despair or become discouraged or grow impatient, because I am awed and inspired by the beauty of this reminder, that God allows all things to happen for a purpose, if only we open our hearts to life's lessons, and that He loves us so much that He just wants us to let go, to rest and to trust Him for all of life's challenges, big and small.

Life after Peniel shall be different, indeed.

"And He said, "Your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel;

for you have struggled with God and with men,

and have prevailed..."

... And He (God) blessed him there...

Jacob called the place Peniel,

"For I have seen God face to face, and my life is preserved..."

- Genesis 28, 30

*This post was inspired by Aunty Ay.

Being Still.

Perhaps, it really is true when they say God knows the deepest cries of our hearts, and knows us better than we even know ourselves. Perhaps, it is His great love for us that allows Him to orchestrate events for our good, even when they seem the least likely to be so.

I should have been really upset. Instead, I felt free. Like a bird out of its cage, I felt so free.

And surprised, too. My reaction of sadness mixed with much relief and gladness surprised me.

"No biking or running for the next 6 weeks. You may take up to 3 months to recover. You've torn your hamstring tendon, and could possibly have a pelvic stress fracture."

"3 months? You're joking. I exercise 5 to 6 days a week."

"Well, it could be sooner but yeah, it takes that long."

I could feel the pressure building up behind my eyes, but it came mainly because I knew I would miss my friends whom I train with. Yet, a part of me was strangely... relieved. It was as if I was relieved that God had intervened, because He knew better than I did that I was tired, that I was going too long and too far, that my spirit longed for a fresh change and needed to enter a new season. He knows best what's good for us, and where we ought to be at.

This, is a season of rest.

Relief, came as a strange feeling.

For once, I'm relieved that life no longer revolves around 2 to 3 runs, 2 swims and 1 bike session a week. I'm relieved that time has suddenly opened itself up, and I have the freedom, the time and the space (oh, the lovely, expanding, cystalline space that suddenly unfolds endlessly, seamlessly) to stop, to meet people, to simply -be-, without being enslaved to a routine of adrenaline or to expectation. For once, I'm relieved to be a semi-colon, and not a series of exclamation marks. I don't have to train, don't have to think about the next race, don't have to wonder why I'm so tired.

It's funny how we put expectations on ourselves that we were never required, at least in God's eyes, to fulfill.

Interruptions, can be beautiful things.

After manouvreing both my legs in the strangest and most awkward of positions, and finding all ways and means to find the point which hurt the most, The Big Man finally said, "It isn't the gracilis you tore. It's the adductor magnus tendon."

I learnt, that no matter how terrible our mistakes may be, God's grace and love to us, will always be restored- fully. It brought me great relief, strangely, to know that my grace-lis muscle was intact, even though the adductor magnus is a larger one.

This injury helped me see where my time had gone all this while, how the time spent in the water and on the road can also be spent elsewhere, on art, on thinking, and people and good books. How I miss painting and cooking and being... Still. This injury helped me see how incredibly liberating it is to know you can let go, how deeply empowering it is to one's faith to know that one is not a slave to anything. It is helped me to trust God, and to see how affliction, is truly a beautiful thing.

There was a season to suffer on the road while training, and now there is a season to suffer off it, while being still.

I decided to see a sports doctor when I finally decided that it isn't normal for one to be in a perpetual state of pain all day, even while resting and walking. I awoke in the middle of the night because of pain, and so decided today, that I needed to get help.

I realised, that interupptions, afflictions and setbacks are opportunities to learn from mistakes, to learn about oneself, and about life. I realised, that pain holds our feet long enough for us to stop striving, and to start being.

It's funny how I can be in so much in pain and yet feel so.... relieved. Thankful. At peace with God.

Yet, the pain is real. Tears do come. When it gets worse at night while I'm by myself, when I can't chase a bus, miss my training buddies or when I wonder if I might ever do a triathlon again, the tears do come.

But I remind myself, that God is in control, that even in affliction, He has a purpose. Crazy?

Maybe.

I am excited about the new season I am entering, one of rest, of processing what sports and training mean to me, what they mean to God and the poor, of exploring new things to do with my time- like reading and oil painting and finally, maybe the fourth book that I've been wanting to write...

From my illness, God brought me to a place where I could be healthy through sports. Now, I am entering a place where I can find security even without it. Even while being... Still.

That, too, is a breakthrough.

And so, I can rejoice and give thanks, even in stillness, even in a state of perpetual pain.

Perhaps, that too, is victory.

"... It is good for me that I have been afflicted,

That I may learn Your statutes...

... I know, O God, that Your judgements are right,

And that in faithfulness You have afflicted me.

Let, I pray, Your merciful kindness be for my comfort..."

- Psalm 119:70-76

"I will be still and know You are God."

-Still

24/7.

"I have learned to hold all things loosely,
so God will not have to pry them out of my hands.”

-Corrie Ten Boom.

Tearing my muscle must have been the best thing that happened to me this season. It's just crazy- I've never felt so relieved, joyful and thankful for an unfortunate incident.

I was going too fast, and God, in His love, stopped me in my tracks. I cannot begin to tell you how incredibly thankful I am.

My closest friend, Jw, once told me, "Yes, I agree when you confess that you can be quite extreme... and that's because you're so wildly passionate about the things you love. It's your greatest strength and weakness, Jia. A double-edged sword, no doubt. "

Looking back, I can now see how things were getting out of hand: More and more people had begun pressing me to train for longer and longer races, kept giving me different sorts of advice, and doled out straightforward put-downs whenever their advice was not taken. Buy this, buy that. You need this, you need that. You need to train this way, not that way. You need a coach. You need a training programme.

Enough, folks. Enough.

Until today, I didn't realise how much I had hurt God by allowing myself to be caught in the fray. All this while, I thought I had taken sports in the right stride, lightly enough, and had put God and my loved ones first. But the lines were getting blurry, and I'm just so thankful that He, in His love, put a stop to this nonsense before it was too late. Had I not torn my muscle and gone for this race, I know this would just be the beginning of another endless worldly pursuit, an embarkation on another golden-calf building project.

Triathlon is an expensive sport. Races are costly. Training takes time.

So I have decided. I am not going to sign up for any more races until I have complete peace that God wants me to. I am going on a 10 day fast (maybe longer) from sports. No training- zilch, nothing, zero, for someone who usually trains 5 to 6 days a week. I want to spend my time recovering and being still at God's feet. I want to spend my time journalling, painting, visiting the needy and spending time with my loved ones. I want to spend time with God, and hear His calling for my life again, loud and clear.

Just like how I'm fed up with people telling me to rebond/straighten my hair, I'm just not convinced that the money spent justifies the cause. I'm just not interested to join another race, not for now. I'm not interested to buy any more things- aerobars, saddles etc. I'm not interested to know what I lack- You must wear make-up, you need to do pedicures, you must go for facials, you need to have straight and shiny hair, you need to lose some weight (and don't swim so much because your arms will become big and unladylike...) To be honest, my muscle tore because I took the persistent and insistent advice of someone, against my own instincts, to shift the position of my bike saddle. I learnt, that no matter what the crowd says, you've still got to listen to your heart and that still, small voice within.

I am learning to say no. No, I don't want to spend any more money on my pleasures. No, this is not how I want to lead my life. No, I don't believe you when you say a girl has to wear make-up and look LIKE THAT to get a boyfriend and get married and be happy etc etc etc. I JUST DON'T BELIEVE YOU. GO AWAY.

I have God, and for now, that is enough. His grace is more than sufficient for me. Thank you, and have a nice day.

Enough, folks. Enough. This girl is not going to touch her bike for 2 weeks, maybe longer. Her friends have been asking her to join the Port Dickson Olympic distance triathlon race but she doesn't want to, not anymore. Not unless God gives her the green light. It is an overseas race spanning a weekend, which means I miss church. The date of the race, 24/07/10, is almost symbolic- do I want to be consumed by the things of this world (sports, possessions, self-pleasure) 24/7, or can I let them go in pursuit of what really matters?

Why do I think of how much money I spend on buying Grandpa Zhou or Uncle Zainol groceries when a race costs this much? Leading a life with expensive habits while serving the poor is inconsistent- it not only makes a fraud of me, but a mockery of God. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with these things per say, and I'm not saying that I judge people who pursue them. It's just that... I know it's not what God wants for me this season, not for now anyway.

I've really had enough. I'm sorry, God. And I'm thankful for the pain which persists, still, because it reminds me of what's really important in life. The real race which matters is the one we journey on in life itself. And we must let no distraction cut in on us to disqualify us for the prize of eternal value.

Leading a balanced life, in awe of its fragility, in gratitude for its blessings and in wonder of its miracles- stopping for a blind man, giving a lost person directions, spending time on one's knees to pray, going out for a spin with my loved ones, being acutely aware of one's frailties and transience, laying my head in the arms of God, with sports and pleasure being a part of the bigger picture, instead of constantly, constantly being pumped with adrenaline... is what I want 24/7.

Living a balanced life close to the heart of God, one where I can cling loosely to all things, one where I can live faithfully serving people well... that is what I really want, 24/7.

Perhaps, God'll give me the green light to race eventually, after I sort out certain struggles, and learn certain lessons. But for now, I just want to lie down on green grass in God's presence, and be... still.

The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love.

You were running a good race.

Who cut in on you and kept you from obeying the truth?

That kind of persuasion does not come from the one who calls you.

Galatians 5:6-8