I remember lacing up my shoes early one morning trying to talk myself into a workout I didn’t feel like doing.
You know the moment, house still quiet, brain already busy, every excuse lined up and ready.
I had a lot going on, and honestly, none of it was dramatic. I was just tired. A little scattered. The kind of tired that doesn’t come from one big thing, but from slowly drifting away from the routines and hobbies that usually keep you grounded.
Then I thought about Chariots of Fire and that haunting scene where Harold Abrahams, the incredibly gifted sprinter, sits in the locker room after winning Olympic gold. He’s achieved everything he set out to do. He’s the fastest man in the world. And yet, he looks absolutely hollow.
He realized too late that he was running to prove people wrong, rather than running because he was right for the task.
Winning the wrong race is often more exhausting than losing the right one.
Lately, I’ve been thinking less about achievement and more about alignment. Not just in work, but in ordinary life. In the little routines that shape us. In the hobbies that wake us up. In the quiet disciplines nobody claps for.
Because if your “Why” doesn’t show up in your actual day-to-day life, it’s hard to feel steady for very long.
Let’s look at what this classic film can teach us about purpose, daily discipline, and honoring the gifts we actually have.
The Contrast: Proving Something vs. Honoring Something
In the movie, we follow two very different men: Harold Abrahams and Eric Liddell.
Abrahams is driven by a chip on his shoulder. He’s running against the establishment, against anti-semitism, and against his own insecurities. He’s disciplined, sure. He hires a professional coach (which was scandalous at the time) and obsesses over every micro-second. But his drive is external. He’s running to get something, validation.
Then you have Eric Liddell.
Liddell is a Scottish missionary who runs because he simply can’t help it. There’s that famous line where he tells his sister, “I believe God made me for a purpose, but He also made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure.”
That line hits differently when you bring it out of the stadium and into everyday life.
Maybe your “running” isn’t literal. Maybe it’s woodworking in the garage. Gardening before work. Writing in a notebook no one sees. Cooking a meal from scratch. Training for a local 5K. Practicing guitar badly, then better, then beautifully over time.
Not for applause.
Not for a title.
But because something in you comes alive when you do it.
That’s when I realized purpose usually doesn’t announce itself with fireworks. It shows up in patterns. In energy. In the things you return to, even when no one is watching.
Purpose isn’t just about what you do for a living; it’s about what makes you feel most alive while you’re living.
The Discipline of the Cinder Track
We often think of discipline as a dirty word. We think of it as punishment, pressure, or one more thing to fail at. But in Chariots of Fire, discipline looks different. It looks like focus.
I want you to imagine the feeling of those 1920s tracks. No high-tech sneakers. Just heavy wool jerseys, leather spikes, and a track made of crushed cinders. When you run, the grit kicks up into your eyes. Your lungs burn with the cold European air.
Discipline in that environment isn’t about hype. It’s about rhythm.
And honestly, that’s how I’ve come to see it in everyday life too.
Discipline is getting up a little earlier so you can walk before the day gets loud.
It’s practicing the hobby you love before you feel “good enough” at it.
It’s reading ten pages instead of scrolling for forty minutes.
It’s choosing the routine that gives you life instead of the habit that drains it.
When you are aligned with your mindset, discipline stops feeling like a chore and starts feeling like a refinement. Liddell didn’t train because he had to; he trained because he wanted to see just how much he could honor the “fast” part of his purpose.
True discipline is the outward expression of an inward commitment.
Here’s the thing: when we struggle with discipline, it usually isn’t because we’re weak. It’s often because we’re trying to force consistency around something that doesn’t actually connect to who we are.
But when a routine supports your peace… when a hobby sharpens your spirit… when a practice helps you honor a gift you’ve been given—you stop needing so much external pressure.
You start showing up because it matters to you.
The right routine doesn’t just organize your day; it reminds you who you are.
The “Sunday” Decision: Integrity Over Optics
The turning point of the film happens when Eric Liddell realizes the 100-meter heat is scheduled for a Sunday. For him, his faith was non-negotiable. He refused to run.
The Prince of Wales, the Olympic Committee, and the entire British establishment pressured him. They called him unpatriotic. They told him he was letting his country down.
That moment matters because all of us have our own version of a “Sunday decision.”
Not usually on an Olympic stage… but in regular life.
Do I protect my morning walk, or let urgency eat it alive again?
Do I keep the evening I set aside for painting, training, writing, or rest—or do I hand it over to distraction?
Do I say yes to what looks impressive, or no to what pulls me away from who I want to become?
But Liddell stayed firm. He ended up switching to the 400-meter race: an event he wasn’t even supposed to win.
I’ve learned that purpose gets stronger every time you protect it with action. Not the dramatic kind, the real kind. The daily kind.
Integrity is keeping the promises you make to your deepest values, even in ordinary moments.
Honoring Your Natural Gifts
One of the most striking things about Liddell’s running style was how “wrong” it was. His head was back, his arms were flailing, and his mouth was wide open. It wasn’t “pretty.”
Abrahams, on the other hand, had perfect form. He was a machine.
But Liddell was faster. Why? Because he wasn’t trying to fit into someone else’s mold of what a runner should look like. He was purely, authentically himself.
I think a lot of us lose energy because we keep trying to force our lives into someone else’s shape.
You see someone else’s routine online and think, “Maybe I need to do that.”
You admire someone else’s hobby, pace, discipline, or style and assume your way must be less valid.
But your gifts were never meant to look exactly like someone else’s.
Maybe your gift is building things with your hands.
Maybe it’s noticing beauty.
Maybe it’s making people feel at ease.
Maybe it’s consistency. Curiosity. Listening. Writing. Fixing. Teaching. Creating. Encouraging.
When you stop trying to mimic “perfect form” and start honoring what comes naturally to you, something incredible happens: your energy returns.
Because you’re not performing anymore.
You’re participating.
Your natural gifts don’t need permission; they need practice.
How to Run Your Own Race
So, how do we take these cinematic lessons and actually apply them to ordinary life? How do we move from the “hollow win” of Abrahams to the “purposeful joy” of Liddell?
Here is the heart of it:
- Identify What Makes You Come Alive: What activity gives you energy instead of just taking it? What do you do that makes time disappear a little? Start there. Purpose leaves clues.
What energizes you usually matters. - Build One Small Ritual Around It: Don’t wait for a perfect season. Give your purpose a place in your actual week, 20 minutes in the morning, one evening block, a Saturday practice session. Small is fine. Consistent is better.
Purpose grows when it gets scheduled. - Protect It Like It Counts: Your walk, your workout, your writing time, your music practice, your time in the garden, it all counts. If it helps you become more whole, it isn’t extra.
What grounds you deserves guarding. - Stop Copying Someone Else’s Form: Your rhythm may be slower. Your hobby may be quieter. Your path may look less impressive from the outside. That doesn’t make it less real.
Your pace can still be powerful. - Measure Progress by Faithfulness, Not Flash: Don’t just ask, “Am I winning?” Ask, “Am I showing up?” One honest mile, one page, one practice, one rep, one hour spent using your gifts—that stuff adds up.
Consistency beats intensity you can’t sustain.
Your gifts are not just for a career; they are for a life that feels fully lived.
The Finish Line
At the end of the day, we’re all on that cinder track. We all know what it feels like to be tired, distracted, or tempted to live on autopilot. But the difference between burnout and breakthrough is often purpose—brought down into your daily routines, your habits, and the things you choose to keep showing up for.
So if you need a reset, start here:
- Notice what gives you life
- Build one routine around it
- Protect it from noise
- Practice your gifts in your own way
- Keep showing up before you feel ready
Don’t be the person who keeps chasing milestones but forgets how to enjoy the miles. Be the person who runs with their head back, fully present, because they know why they’re on the track.
Run your own race. No one else can run it for you.
And if you’re looking for more encouragement around mindset, positivity, and living with purpose, that’s exactly what we love to talk about at Next Level Us. Reach out to us if you want to explore how these ideas can show up in your life and work.
Let’s get moving. Because your gifts are worth using.
