Reflections from the “Lenten 40” 40km relay race in Saskatoon
Every Lent, we talk about the “Way of the Cross.” We pray the stations, we contemplate the Sorrowful Mysteries, and we look for small mortifications through our Lenten sacrifices. But there is a particular clarity that comes when the “Way” is no longer a metaphor. That’s the idea behind the 41.9
wind-swept, unpredictable, and physically demanding kilometer stretch of Saskatchewan road and trail that makes up the Lenten 40 Prayer Run.
There were 90 participates for the 4th Annual Saskatoon Lenten 40 this year. It was a communal pilgrimage, starting and ending at the 30’ high outdoor crucifix in front of the Cathedral of the Holy Family, and crossing Saskatoon’s NE to the SW corner and back again. For the “St. Theresers” who participated, it became a living classroom where the theology of suffering manifested in the reality of sore legs and the chilly wind.
The Lenten 40km is the Saturday just before Holy Week. The route is broken into four legs, 12.6km, 8km, 10.1km and 11.2km, and primarily follows the South Saskatchewan river as it cuts through Saskatoon. Teams can register as pairs or 4-person squads. The person currently running carries a small, foot-tall wooden cross; the cross gets passed like a relay baton to the next runner at checkpoints and maybe even serves as a witness to some who happen to see the runners pass.
This was my second year participating in the run, which is a bit of a miracle in itself. I was overweight most of my life. I hated running, and in elementary school, I would fake feeling sick so that I could stay home on the days when we’d be doing long distance runs in gym (if my mom is reading this, I have a confession to make the next time we chat).
Fast forward to 6 years ago when I started walking to work and dropped 30-40lbs over Lent 2020. I had dabbled in jogging a bit in my adulthood, but I discovered in 2025 that I could now easily tackle half-hour runs. I trained for a few weeks and ran with three Bruno teens in last year’s Lenten 40km.
This year, I had the joy to form a family team with my three oldest kids! My kids ran the first three legs, and I ran the fourth leg.
On my leg, I prayed, took in the beauty of God’s creation, and of course ran, ran, ran. I also had time to think and reflect. Chatting with some of our St. Therese alumni and friends who ran, I was excited and encouraged by their reflections, too.
The Vision: A Catholic “Death Race”
The vision for this running shoe pilgrimage began when Bruno-raised Dominic Montpetit and his team took to the rugged trails of Grande Cache, Alberta, for the annual extreme Rocky Mountain 125km ultramarathon, the Canadian Death Race. Dominic, a close friend of St. Therese Institute, recalls the spark of inspiration.
“I had just finished the Death Race with my two brothers and Bishop Mark Hagemoen. It was my first time in the running community, and the intensity of it really inspired me. I’ve always loved trying new things, and after that race, I had a desire to see how I could put a Catholic spin on a run. Chatting with my brother Jerome and Bishop Mark, we came up with the Lenten 40.
“It’s been a cool opportunity to help others experience a unique Lenten discipline through exercise. I think it’s important for us to embrace ‘The Way of Suffering’ and run to the cross; that’s exactly what this event is about. It’s always a mystery—Saskatchewan weather is unpredictable—but seeing so many people embrace the challenge and unite themselves with Christ’s suffering with a smile on their face makes it special.”
The “Uncurated” Cross
We often like to choose our own crosses—carefully selecting a fast or a discipline that fits our schedule. Jamie (Schwark) Broschinski (Alumna ’14-’15) shared that the most transformative moments are often the ones we don’t choose.
“I like schedules,” Jamie says. “I like how they enable you to mentally prepare for suffering. I thought I had my race all figured out—I was doing the last leg, so I could just cheer and eat snacks for the first few hours. We had a group of 8 running 2 separate races, but we decided to run each leg in tandem, paired up. But at the third leg exchange, everything went sideways. One teammate arrived early and the other was missing, and suddenly someone was looking at me frantically, trying to hand off the cross.
I had to throw my running number into my pocket (didn’t have time to pin it on) and just start running. I hadn’t prepared. I hadn’t ‘curated’ this moment to be within the scope of my abilities. It reminded me that while we try to control our spiritual lives, sometimes you are called to take up your cross by surprise. You can’t always prepare for the situation, but you can choose to say ‘yes’ when the cross is handed to you.”
Running for Another
Once the cross is in hand, and the cross of fatigue and soreness starts to weigh, the question becomes: Why keep moving? For Carina Lynn (Alumna ’24-’25), the physical exhaustion became a window into the heart of Jesus.
“As I was running, I was really reflecting on the walk Jesus made with His cross,” Carina shares. “Every time I wanted to stop or just give up, I remembered that Jesus probably felt that, too—but He kept going with me in mind. He would have made that trek a million times over for each one of us.
“I had a specific person in mind that I was running for, and that intention changed everything. It gave me a glimpse into how Jesus kept going for us. I understood the amount of love He has for us just a little bit more with every single step.”
The Physicality of Prayer
For Christina Denis (Alumna ’19-’20) and Will Cornish (Current Gap Year participant), the prayer was grounded in the physical weight of the moment.
“At a certain point, I started to feel tired and wanted to stop,” Christina says. “But as I ran, my hand tightened around the wooden cross we were given to carry. My fingers felt the grain of the wood, and it pulled me out of my head and into the moment. The pain didn’t go away, but it became more purposeful. My focus shifted away from my own discomfort and toward Christ’s suffering.”
Will, who entered the race with very little training, found that the lack of preparation served a higher purpose. “It felt extra penitential,” Will admits. “But those physical limits gave me extra opportunities to pray for those I had been wanting to pray for. It helped me understand the Passion of Jesus in a small, very real way.”
The Winding Path Home
As for my own run, I was most struck by the “crookedness” of the journey near the end. The river-side paths were predictable, following the curves of the river. The sections through parks and along residential roads that followed were straight. As I entered the final kilometer, I caught sight of the cross atop the Holy Family Cathedral—the finish line was coming up! But then, the path turned left. Then it swerved right. And then back and forth again!
I found myself complaining: The section of greenspace I was running through was straight-sided, but the engineers of the trail had built the path to weave back and forth down the length of the area! “Why isn’t the road to the Cross straighter?” I asked, slightly annoyed before laughing at the experiential reality of it all. Of course our journey to Christ is never a straight and easy path! And suddenly, the Cathedral cross was gone, hidden behind trees that I had drawn close to. I felt a little betrayed by those annoying trail engineers! I knew the cross was still there, but I couldn’t see it. I wanted it back!
The call to “walk by faith and not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7a) came to mind, and I pressed on, lengthening my stride. In life, we often have the goal in sight, but a sudden illness, an injury forces us to slow down. These aren’t necessarily detours or obstacles. They can be gifts from God.
Chatting with my wife, Heidi, after the race, we discussed how important it is to have good people with you on the journey as “guides.” In the Lenten 40, these were the checkpoint personnel. They were stationed at critical turns when the path became confusing. They gave verbal instruction about what to do next. They motivated you with a much needed, “Way to go! You’ve got this! Keep it up!” But they weren’t at every turn.
Sometimes, I had to rely on the witness of the faithful who had trod the path before me—especially the organizers who the night before had marked the course sporadically with surveyor’s tape and arrow signs! Without both the people and the markers, I would have gotten lost. In our real lives, it’s also those “guides”—the mentors, the saints, and the community—who keep us on course when the way is uncertain or the destination disappears from view.
The Lenten 40km reminded me that we are all on a path that swerves. Through the contours of the journey, we must keep our hands tight around the wood of the Cross to find our way home.
This run has now become a part of my Lenten observance, and I’d love to have you join in next year! You can find out more about the event and sign up for email updates at http://www.Lenten40.com.
James Riley has been at St. Therese Institute longer than any of the rest of the mission staff can remember. He has seen many things and has worn many hats. He currently serves Christ as the Deputy of Operations.