What 35-Mile Bike Rides Teach Me About Faith and Endurance

What started as a simple bite of a chocolate covered strawberry somehow became a moment of realization. Not because of the strawberry itself…but because of what it represented: a small reward after 35 miles on the bike.

After wind that fought back for hours.

After tired legs, loud thoughts, and the quiet temptation to quit long before the ride was over.

And sitting there afterward, exhausted and sweaty and grateful, I realized something: The sweetness tastes different when you’ve endured something to get there.

Not earned in a striving sort of way.

Not punishment followed by permission.

But the kind of sweetness that comes after perseverance.

After continuing.

After staying.

Maybe that’s true spiritually too.

Maybe some things can only be understood on the other side of endurance. Because somewhere around mile twenty, something shifts.

The excitement wears off.

Your legs start talking louder.

The wind feels personal.

And the kind of negotiation you normally only see between heads of state during wartime starts happening inside your own mind.

You’ve done enough.

Nobody would blame you for stopping.

You can cut the route short.

This still counts.

You can try again another day.

35 miles today.

Not fast.

Not easy.

And honestly… not graceful at times either.

The wind fought back. My legs got tired. My mind got loud. I forgot to restart my watch more than once because somewhere in the middle of it all I stopped thinking about stats and started focusing on simply continuing.

There’s a moment on long rides where all that’s left is the quiet decision to keep pedaling.

That’s the part nobody really sees.

The mental battle.

The bargaining.

The temptation to quit early and call it “good enough.”

But somewhere along those miles, I realized mental toughness isn’t something you magically have before hard things.

It’s something built inside hard things.

One mile at a time.

One headwind at a time.

One decision not to stop at a time.

And maybe that’s true far beyond cycling.

Maybe resilience is formed the exact same way faith is—through continuing when things feel uncomfortable, slow, uncertain, or heavy.

And perhaps that’s why Paul so often used the imagery of athletes.

In 1 Corinthians 9:24–27 (NKJV), he writes:

“Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may obtain it… Therefore I run thus: not with uncertainty. Thus I fight: not as one who beats the air. But I discipline my body and bring it into subjection…”

Paul understood something we often resist:

Training matters.

Athletes train intentionally because race day is coming.

Believers train intentionally because eternity matters.

No athlete becomes strong accidentally.

Strength is built through:

• repetition

• resistance

• consistency

• discipline

• continuing when you’d rather stop

And spiritually, it’s no different. We train by returning daily to truth. We train by remaining steadfast when emotions fluctuate. We train by taking thoughts captive instead of letting them lead us.

And honestly, that’s why the verse about taking thoughts captive has been echoing in my mind differently lately.

2 Corinthians 10:5 says:

“…bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ.” (NKJV)

Every thought.

Not just the obviously sinful ones.

Not just the dramatic ones.

Even the quiet thoughts that slowly erode endurance.

You can’t do this.

You’re too weak.

Stop now.

This is pointless.

You’ll never make it.

Somewhere along long rides, I’ve realized thoughts are not always truth simply because they are loud.

And taking thoughts captive is not passive.

Paul uses military language here. The imagery is intentional. To take something captive means:

• to seize it

• confront it

• refuse to let it rule

• bring it under authority

• 
  

In other words, believers are not called to simply listen to every thought that enters their minds.

We are called to examine them and ask:

Does this align with truth?

Does this align with obedience?

Does this align with what God says?

And honestly? Somewhere around mile twenty, that becomes very real.

Because the physical battle starts exposing the mental one.

The negotiation begins.

Discouragement gets loud.

Excuses sound reasonable.

And sometimes the greatest endurance isn’t found in the legs at all. Sometimes it’s found in refusing to agree with every thought telling you to quit.

Long rides expose what’s happening internally. So does faith.

Both reveal:

• impatience

• fear

• discouragement

• self-doubt

  
  

But they also reveal something beautiful: Growth.

The kind that cannot be microwaved. The kind built slowly through endurance.

Thirty miles once felt impossible.

Now thirty-five is done.

Saturday… forty.

And ahead of me sits a 100 mile two-day ride in June from Chicago to New Buffalo.

Not because I suddenly became fearless.

Not because I’m trying to prove something.

But because somewhere in the middle of all these miles, God is teaching me that endurance is not built by never struggling.

It’s built by continuing anyway.

And honestly? I’m keeping the chocolate covered strawberries reward afterward, all summer long.

Prayer

Lord, train my heart to endure faithfully. Help me take every thought captive and remain steadfast when resistance comes. Teach me to continue—not in my own strength, but through dependence on You. Build perseverance in me spiritually, mentally, and physically for Your glory. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Scripture

1 Corinthians 9:24–27

2 Corinthians 10:5

Core Thought

Endurance—physically and spiritually—is built through steady obedience, disciplined thinking, and continuing when quitting feels easier.

Reflection Questions

• What thoughts most often try to convince you to stop?

• Where is God teaching you endurance right now?

• What would it look like to continue faithfully, even when progress feels slow?