If you’ve followed me for any length of time, you’ve probably noticed I say the same three things over and over.
Lift Heavy. Run Far. Pray Hard.
That isn’t just a slogan I put on a shirt. It’s how I believe fathers should approach life.
Some people think you have to choose between lifting weights or running. If you spend time in either community, you’ll hear the jokes. Lifters make fun of runners for being weak. Runners make fun of lifters for getting out of breath walking upstairs.
I think they’re both missing the point.
As dads, we’re not training for Instagram. We’re not training to impress strangers. We’re training because the people waiting for us at home deserve the healthiest version of us they can get.
Strength matters. I want to be able to move furniture without throwing my back out, carry my kids when they’re tired, help a friend when they need an extra set of hands, and stay physically capable as I get older. That’s one of the reasons I lift every week, and I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.
At the same time, I don’t want to build a body that looks strong but can’t handle real life. If playing tag with my kids leaves me completely out of breath or hiking a mountain becomes something I avoid because I’m exhausted after twenty minutes, that’s a problem. That’s where endurance comes in.
One of the biggest reasons I spend so much time talking about running is because of what it does for your long-term health. Researchers have found that one of the strongest predictors of longevity is your VO₂ max, which is simply a measure of how efficiently your body uses oxygen during exercise. The better your cardiovascular fitness, the lower your risk of heart disease, stroke, and even dying from almost any cause. That’s a pretty incredible return on investment for something as simple as consistently moving your body.
When I first started my journey, I couldn’t even walk a mile without stopping. I wasn’t born an endurance athlete. I became one by choosing to show up every day, even when the workouts weren’t exciting. Those daily walks eventually became runs. Those runs became races. Those races eventually led to Ironman and ultramarathons.
That journey completely changed how I think about fitness.
I don’t run because I want to call myself a runner. I run because I want to be healthy enough to watch my kids grow up, hike with them years from now, chase future grandkids around the yard, and continue serving wherever God calls me. Every mile I run is an investment in that future.
As Christians, I think this conversation goes even deeper. In 1 Corinthians 6:19-20, Paul reminds us that our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit. I’ve never read that verse as a command to have six-pack abs. I’ve always understood it as a call to stewardship. God has given us one body to carry out the work He’s prepared for us. Taking care of it isn’t vanity; it’s responsibility.
That’s why I don’t separate fitness from faith anymore.
Lifting teaches discipline.
Running teaches perseverance.
Prayer keeps both in the right perspective.
That’s the balance I’m chasing.
If you’re a husband and a father, your family doesn’t need you to have the biggest arms in the room. They need you healthy enough to keep showing up year after year. They need a man who’s strong enough to carry the load, humble enough to depend on God, and healthy enough to be present for the moments that matter most.
That’s why I train the way I do.
Not for a medal.
Not for a mirror.
For the life God has entrusted me to lead.
