A while back a guy asked me if I ever run during my races.

I reminded him that I always compete as a walker. So, no, I don’t run. I walk. It’s what us walkers do. If I did run, I’d be a cheating walker.

Yeah, he said, but there must be times when no one would know. Knock off a few seconds. So why not run?

The best explanation I could come up with for not running was the comparison I made to not eating on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, which begins at Sundown on Wednesday.

This is when Jews across the world conclude a 10-day period known as the High Holy Days, that starts with the observance of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, during which we are to reflect, resolve and repent for our past deeds.

It’s when we search deep inside our souls to recognize the sins committed against others. And attempt to atone for those sins.

We do so by denying ourselves of many of life’s basic pleasures. I’m talking a complete, 25-hour fast while praying for forgiveness at the century-old Congregation Agudas Achim, a most welcoming and inclusive house of worship in Livingston Manor. 

Other less well-known restrictions on Yom Kippur include washing and bathing, anointing one’s body (with cosmetics, deodorants, etc.), wearing leather shoes and engaging in sexual relations.

Hey, no one said repenting was easy.

Honestly, most years I feel that I need more than one day to atone. I’m actually fine without eating (let’s not get into the other stuff). It’s no coffee that kills. For a guy who averages about 10 cups a day, it’s a lot of repenting.

But I’m not complaining.

I consider it a cleansing of my soul – not to mention my colon. And it’s certainly a small act of contrition.

I believe there’s also a code of honor that comes with fasting. At least for me.

I was never in the military. Last time I wore a uniform was as a Webelos Cub Scout. But I do think there is something special about adhering to a code of honor. You hear a lot about it with West Point so close by.

Being motivated to do right, not because it says so in some book, or because someone had to remind you, or some kind of Big Brother device is watching. But because you know.

Maybe it’s the idea that you can get away with something that no one else would ever know. And still, you do what’s right. Most of the time.

We’re still human.

And it’s because of all our foibles during the year that we have plenty of reasons to atone for our sins. Plenty.

What? When you get more change back than you should, do you always alert the cashier?

Always sick on a sick day?

Too aggressive on the road?

Should I audit your books?

Like I said, we’re human.

Which brings me back to why I don’t sneak a bite during my fast on Yom Kippur and why I don’t sneak a quick run during my walking race.

Why would I?

Who would I be fooling?

When I walk, I challenge myself to do better. Work to beat my last time. Strive to improve. Cheat, and I’d just be lying to myself.

When I fast on Yom Kippur, I atone for past indiscretions. Challenge myself to be a better person. I know there’s room for improvement. Cheat here, and I wouldn’t just be lying to myself.

Barry Lewis is a longtime journalist and author who lives with his wife Bonnie in the Town of Neversink. He can be reached at      barrylewisscdemocrat@gmail.com.