As athletes and coaches, we understand the meaning of discipline. Our lives are filled with early morning workouts and late nights in the gym. We sacrifice whatever it takes to reach our goals. We know that if we work harder than our opponents, we have a better chance of winning.

Tynesha Lewis of the Charlotte Sting has been blessed. Not only is she gifted with an amazing athletic talent that she continues to use for God’s glory, but she’s also been forgiven. Now in her fifth season in the WNBA, Lewis has experienced the world’s temptations and received God’s redemptive grace along the way, through it all, learning the benefits of complete honesty.

Randy Swearengin was a rookie FCA area representative, newly hired to a full-time position in Mississippi, when he entered a coach’s office in his district one morning armed with a box of Bibles and a heart determined to impact local coaches and athletes for Christ.

He had recently purchased the box of FCA Coach’s Bibles with his own money and was planning to hand-deliver them to every local coach as way of introducing himself. This particular coach, however, known for being tough and hard-nosed on and off the field, would have nothing of it.

When the Los Angeles Sparks need some defensive intensity and fierce, scrappy play, they call on their intimidator, “D-Nasty.” But if they’re looking for encouragement and a cheerful rallying cry, they turn to the teammate they affectionately refer to as “Sunshine.”

Fortunately for L.A.’s front office, the Sparks don’t have to waste two roster spots to fill both roles. D-Nasty and Sunshine are the same person: DeLisha Milton-Jones.

Nic Cardwell’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

It was 2002, and Cardwell, then a senior at Robert B. Glenn (N.C.) High School, and his father were on a football recruiting trip to nearby Appalachian State University in Boone, N.C. After a short wait in the lobby of the on-campus inn, a team representative — an “old guy,” as Nic remembers — greeted the Cardwells and sat down to chat with them.

Thirty minutes passed, and Cardwell’s mind drifted. Finally, the older gentleman got up and said, “OK, let’s go eat.” Cardwell quickly snapped to attention. Perplexed, he blurted, “Wait a second! I haven’t met the head coach yet.”

Life is a lot like dominoes. Our small decisions often lead to rippling consequences that we never expected. We tend to think single, small choices are stand-alone decisions and that they won’t affect our futures. Over time, though, these decisions lead us to make other decisions just like them and eventually result in either tremendous negative consequences or outstanding positive patterns.

Behind the screaming fans and autographs, the televised games and SportsCenter highlights, the contracts and growing fame, the life of a WNBA player isn’t what it seems. It goes much deeper than stardom. When the adrenaline subsides, there are real challenges facing the women about which few ever read. There is loneliness from being separated from friends and family. There are insecurities about being traded or injured. There are pressures to perform and win.

What’s the true source of your power and strength?

It would be hard for any Average Joe to keep his legs from collapsing after enduring 26.2 miles of leg-pounding, foot-smacking pavement. For elite runners, however, this is nothing extraordinary. They run long, and they run hard in order to win — either for the personal gratification of finishing the race or for bragging rights in their sport.

But, like any stereotype, there are exceptions — like the one in this story. It is the story of one elite runner who, win or lose, pounds those 26.2 miles to give the glory to someone else. That 5-2, slender figure who runs like a cheetah on the hunt is Kenya’s Catherine Ndereba, a.k.a. Catherine the Great.