Note from the Author: Years ago, I came across a word that redefined how I view training and duty. Today, returning from the Latin Mass and preparing for another week of the 14-week Murph cycle, that word—Podvig—is the only one that fits.
In David L. Robbins’ Last Citadel, he describes a night attack by the “Night Witches,” where a young pilot recalls her father’s teaching: “Once in a while your soul wants to see a podvig, a feat, to prove you’re alive.”
The word Podvig doesn’t translate easily into English. While some render it as “glory” or “exploit,” its roots in Eastern Orthodoxy and the broader Catholic tradition run much deeper. It defines a spiritual struggle—the ascetic discipline undertaken to purify oneself from the passions that draw us away from God.
The Internal Battle
St. Paul captured the essence of the podvig when he wrote: “I fail to carry out the things I want to do, and I find myself doing the very things I hate.” A podvig is the intentional “turning around” to get back onto the correct path. It is the decision to oppose the body when it draws us toward sloth or ego.
- Do I eat too much? The podvig is fasting.
- Am I lazy? The podvig is harder labor.
- Do I want to stay in bed? The podvig is rising early for prayer.
The Martial Parallel
There are undeniable parallels between the podvig and the martial lifestyle. The “Warrior Path” is not about vanity; it is about sacrifice. If a practitioner realizes they are out of shape, they must take on the podvig of physical conditioning. If they find themselves slacking in their craft, they take on the podvig of training.
But there is a trap. The desert fathers warned that one can become “prideful and vain-glorious” over their own podvig. This is the danger for the athlete and the officer alike. Do you train for your ego, or for something deeper? Do you wear the uniform to be seen, or to serve a standard that exists outside of yourself?
The Sunday Recalibration
In the traditional liturgy, we see the ultimate podvig: the subjection of the self to the Divine Order. It reminds us that our training—whether it’s a weighted vest on Monday or a 46er ascent—is meaningless if it isn’t directed toward a higher purpose.
We don’t seek the “feat” to prove we are better than others. We seek the podvig to prove to our own souls that we are still alive, still disciplined, and still under Command.
Leave a comment