The only noise wafting from my sunroom at 6 a.m. is the sweet sound of coffee sips and the pages of my Bible turning. Until …

Pitter, patter, pitter, patter!

Ella sprints from her room on the other end of the house, down the wood floor hallway and crashes into the couch. Receiving my 2 1/2-year-old’s morning greeting — and subsequent demand for a hot cocoa —brings clarity to a pair of truths regarding the innocence of our human nature. The first is that in one sense, we are very much not innocent.

Unlike the lie promoting babies as pure angels only corrupted once they’ve spent enough time in a world polluted by adults, it’s very obvious to every young parent that no one has to be taught how to covet, misbehave, whine, fight or disobey authority. There’s a reason moms and dads must raise up their sons and daughters “in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.” But in another sense, kids possess a very unique innocence when it comes to their optimistic disposition. For my kids, the physical manifestation of this is, well, running to everything.

One time, I heard Ella stumbling around in the bathroom searching for the light at 2 a.m. I rolled out of bed, ignored my clicking ankles and stiff muscles, and hobbled down the hallway to help her. When she was done going to the bathroom — which she did smiling and chatting with me as if we were at Starbucks at 2 p.m. — she hopped off the toilet.

“OK, go back to bed,” I whispered. Next thing I know, Ella is dashing into her room and blind-siding the bed like Brian Urlacher. The force of her tackle popped her legs in the air and over the back of her head. Even in the middle of the night, she couldn’t help get excited about the thrill prospect of ….dashing from the bathroom back into her warm bed?

If you have kids (and you haven’t ruined their sense of wonder too much with devices, screens and other energy-saving, space-making temptations), you know what I’m talking about when I say they have a magical ability to be mesmerized. All it takes is a ‘fun’ suggestion, a silly song, the sight of a well-loved toy or the news of an upcoming pajamas and popcorn ride around town. In fact, all Mom and Dad really have to do is act excited about anything themselves. ….And I mean anything….and their kids will immediately perk up. If I’m all in on something, so are Novi and Ella. It’s powerful.

But there’s a dark side, too: when I’m not very excited for something, it seems like, they learn — slowly — to not be, either.

Athletes are often told to “have short memories” in regards to performance. Some call the habit of moving on to the next thing ‘fish brain.’ If you played poorly, you can’t let the mistakes haunt you to the degree that they impact the next game. On the flip side, if you’re coming off a magical race, you can’t bask in the glory for too long or you’ll be fat and sassy when you put your next bib on.

Instead of fish brain, maybe we need toddler joy.

Even though neither Novi or Ella knows it, they’re general state of excited anticipation as they flow from one thing to the next is exactly the type of optimistic eye on the future athletes need. There’s a reason sketching out your race schedule gives you butterflies. It’s fun to look ahead. It’s fun to hope. To long for what lies ahead.

I think a key secret to long-term athletic participation and growth — especially for older athletes who have departed from the organized realms of high school and college competition — is to cultivate a sense of eagerness for “the next thing,” and a fiery enthusiasm which runs to it. A paradox is at play, too, though: you don’t want to completely run away from the task at hand.

As a skier, runner and biker, I intentionally activate this tension throughout my various seasons.

In February, I’m all-in on Nordic. But one day I don’t look forward to all that much is the one right before the Birkie. The hay is in the barn, I’m nervous and excited, and any activity I do feels potentially draining, like it can only take away from the next day.

My standard pre-race workout is a short morning run and nothing else (it gets the blood flowing and leaves my double-poling muscles amped up). It’s kind of agonizing, because I’m used to my somewhat unstructured daily double sessions serving as an escape, a way to balance out the morning and afternoon grinds. Time, distance and effort are rarely restrained. All three are on this day, however, and that’s why it’s hard.. One way I cope with it is to imagine that — just for 50 minutes — I’m a trail runner getting ready for the Pikes Peak Ascent …. in six months.

It’s not really an exercise in self-deception, either. In a very true sense, these winter miles are very important if I’m to have a successful build up once the summer storage wax goes on. Since I find peace in the process, it helps to look at this angle of the diamond for a moment. Every little brick is building towards something. It’s funny. When I reframe my mental outlook, I suddenly get excited, driven and purposeful. In doing so, I also am brought back to the original front-and-center reason for the workout, too: taper for the next day’s race.

What’s the point?

While, in sports, if you find yourself in a slump because of burn out, business, a bum ankle or something else, perhaps what really needs to change is your overall outlook. Even in periods of injury, there’s always a task for the day that you can give 100% towards that will make you better in the long run. It might be toe-raisers and stretching — instead of a 15-mile run — but it’s in your control nonetheless. Let your dreaming and scheming and hope for the next thing propel you forward.

(How many of us truly mimic Ella’s excitement when we’re faced with another day of PT and stretching instead of going for a hard trail run?)

Maybe you’re struggling to transition from one sport you’ve done your whole life to another you’re not as familiar with because of age or life circumstances. Let me encourage you by saying from experience that there’s a whole world out there of endurance challenges and venues — from trails to hill climbs to FKTs and long-distance open-water swimming — waiting for you to choose. Only your imagination can limit what you select to be your next Olympics. It’s time for to you care about, plan for, train towards and, most importantly, get excited about a goal. Find your mission and enjoy each part of it.

I think the concept my daughter demonstrates with her enthusiastic running back and forth between a baby in a bassinet to a mud-filled kiddie pool on the deck — stopping only for the thrill of snacking on a piece of celery dipped in peanut butter — has a deeper application as well.

Society needs to recover its sense of gratitude and enjoyment, even for the seemingly simple and mundane aspects of life. We need to realize just how good we have it. And perhaps more importantly, we need to realize why we can savor and enjoy the little treats of life. One book that has been very helpful for me in understanding how Christians ought to deal with “the things of earth” (i.e., the gifts God has given us) is Joe Rigney’s “Strangely Bright.”

I’ll qualify my statement by noting that while I think this book is brilliant, it’s probably been particularly influential for me because of the stage of life in which I’ve read it. If you’ve arrived at this blog (and stuck around), the same might be true for you. You know that I’m not only an athlete, but I’m someone who thinks foundationally about athletics, weaving philosophy and theology into my physiology. When it comes to the big questions, this book has tied together decades of careful thought, introspection, experiences, prayer and study. It might not be a ‘must-read’ for everyone, but it certainly ended up being one for me.

Rigney’s cornerstone thesis is that things like apple streusel or pizza or the sunset on a crisp Colorado fall evening are beautiful rays we ought to delight in because they can be followed up to a more radiant source: Christ. In fact, every visceral feeling, taste, smell or pattern we experience in life (and sports) points to a greater spiritual reality.

Honey is sweet because God’s love is sweeter. Losing hurts because we intuitively understand a greater cosmic battle wherein sin and death are the opponents. At the same time, winning has a certain feeling, too, because it points to a greater, final victory — Christ’s loving sacrifice on the cross, his death, burial and resurrection … his victory over death. Ironically, even my cliche ‘process’ I talked about being addicted to — the summation of training, racing, preparing, trials and tribulations, victories and defeats, wisdom from coaches and heckling from fans — mirrors a much more important, drawn out process: sanctification.

In other words, there’s a reason I’m at peace looking ahead at Pikes Peak while the Birkie looms right in front. That February pre-race run, doubling as an off-season session for America’s Ultimate Challenge, paints a spiritual picture. In the same way that I’m straddling “the already” and “the not yet” athletically, I feel the tension in life of being a sinner who constantly falls short — but has simultaneously been redeemed once and for all on the cross. In both cases, I’m wrestling with the here and now tied to its paradoxically permanent and perfect, glorious end.

There’s a book for young and old athletes to be written here, and by the grace of God, I hope someday I can be wise enough to try and put it together. If I don’t, maybe I could at least collect a few life lessons, principles and my own personal experiences into a small document of advice — or a series of blog posts:) — to give to my kids at some point. Unfortunately, my ‘greatest’ little tidbits tend to surface during the middle long trail runs — you know, the most convenient time to jot something profound down. Lately, I’ve wondered if I should just sum things up with a few cornerstone pieces and let them figure the rest out on their own.

Here’s my first draft:

1. Keep the faith, no matter what
2. {Dad, how?} By being thankful in all circumstances.
3. {OK, but how do you do that?} By remembering God’s promises, especially that He works all things for good for those whom he loves and has called according to his purpose.

Then again, maybe deep down, they already intuitively know this to some degree. Maybe the real secret to scampering around from one task to the next — pitter pattering, if you will — is to be thankful in all circumstances. That can truly be achieved when we realize no matter what season of life we’re in, what job we have, what illness or injury we’re navigating, what loss or victory we’re going through, there is a purpose: to make us more like Christ.

Maybe Ella doesn’t intellectually know that when she runs to and fro, collecting her 7.2 million babies and their very specific, individualized blankets, but her heart is in the right place nonetheless. As a parent, you are in fact responsible for raising your kids up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. But don’t be too prideful to miss the moments where they teach you something, too.

—keep on striving…keep on skiing—