Off Balance

Today the treadmill was off balance.

My treadmill is in the basement. That is not a big deal for most people, but our basement is not level. Living in an old house has it's pluses and minuses. One minus is that basements were an after thought in homes made before the 1900's. The floor in our "dungeon" was finished in the 1950's. They used wheel barrow after wheel barrow to pour the concrete one four by four foot square at a time. This makes for a very durable but less than uniform surface. In order to keep the treadmill level, I have to use pieces of wood to prop up the back. If I didn't do this, I would be continually running up hill. Heck, I feel like I am already running up hill all the time, I do not need that sensation while I am on the dreadmill. Tonight the stupid wood wiggled out from under the rubber covered peg three times in the last mile of my run. I would be in full stride at 6.3 mph when all of a sudden the machine would start shaking. Do you know what a pain it is to have to stop three times in the last mile to level out a treadmill? It is impossible to run like that.

I hate it when my treadmill is off balance.

I feel like my life is off balance. I feel like the pieces of wood keeping me standing upright are wiggling out from under me. To much is pushing down on one end, while I am letting up on areas that should be given more attention. I feel like I can fall off at any moment. I stop to fix it...no I stop to put a band-aid on it only to have it lose its balance again. What can I do? I need to make sure that God is my fulcrum. He is my measuring tape, plum line, level. I need to stop using pieces of wood, like good deeds and kind words, to keep my life straight and balanced.

Seek first the kingdom of God and everything else will work itself out. Easier said than done. Sometimes it seems so hard to hear God's voice, but I can always find some pieces of wood lying around.

Hookey

I played hookey today from church. My family and I have been out of town for four days and got in late Saturday night. We unpacked and watched "Elf." I love that movie. "Hey Buddy, hope you find your dad." Midnight the movie was just ending and we knew that our family needed to regroup so we decided to stay home Sunday. There is a lot to be said for taking it easy on a Sunday. Preparing for the upcoming week, tying up loose ends, resting and recuperating were much needed for all of us. I am a firm believer that missing a Sunday morning service now and then is a necessary thing. Don't get me wrong, I am a firm believer in corporate worship, but you won't go to hell for not having perfect church attendance. Funny thing about playing church hookey, is that it allowed me to run at the same time all the church goers were walking into their stained glass windowed buildings.

I can't stand it when another runner passes me without acknowledging that I'm there. A simple "hi" or a slight wave is all it takes to let me know that I am on your radar. Please know, that this rarely, and I mean rarely ever happens. Other runners who are in their vehicles, honk, wave, yell, even turn around and drive back by. I love it. It makes me try harder, do better. It encourages me.

On my five mile trek this morning I passed several churches, four in a one mile stretch. As I passed each church, people were walking in, holding the door open for each other, hurrying to get out of the cold drizzle, laughing, carrying on conversations. What none of them did spoke louder to me than anything else. No one waved at me. Not one person said good morning. Not a single church goer even look at me. As I approached each house of worship, everyone, I kid you not, put their heads down and focused on the ground. No one acknowledge that I was there. I really don't get it. How could they act like this? "You are going into the house of God, yet you can't offer a kind word to a man on the sidewalk outside your building." I started to get angry. Very angry. I don't want anyone to think that I am anything like these people. A person so focused on going to church that they forget the main reason why they are there; to bring more people into the kingdom of God.

Maybe I'm being to hard on them. It was dreary outside. It was cold. It was rainy. Whatever the reason, I could have used some encouragement and a simple "hi" or wave would have gone along way. Maybe, just maybe they are so used to looking at the world through rose colored stained glass windows that they don't see the people wading through the darkness present in the world outside.

Just wave, just say "hi." Everyone could use some encouragment.

The Fitness Room

Mirror, Mirror on The Wall

Today I ran on a treadmill in a hotel. Nothing like spending your morning alone, in a 10x12 foot room, while "A Mighty Wind" is blaring on the TV. The infamous water dispenser with the oil funnels to drink from and the world's roughest towels to wipe away the sweat. (I almost forgot the spray bottle of disinfectant you are supposed to use when finished.) Even the foreign treadmills are an enigma to me. It's like trying to drive a stick shift if you have only driven an automatic. The problem isn't only limited to, "How do speed this thing up?" or "How do you get this incline to go back down?" The true test is..."How do I turn this monster on?!?!".

Those features by themselves alone make that dreaded fitness room a booger. The biggest problem I had today was what covered the walls...giant mirrors.

Floor to ceiling mirrors. Who thought that was a great idea? Is it so I can watch my technique? Is it because they ran out of wall paper?Am i supposed to watch my flabby body wiggle while I work out and get inspired to exercise harder? Nothing like watching your "moobs" bounce while you try to run 3 miles. I know they are there, that's why I'm running. I don't need some sadistic exercise room designer to throw up a visual reminder of why I should be in the "fitness center." I'm not ignorant. I may be slow but I'm not stupid.

I rarely look at my spiritual body. What would that look like? I wonder if I look worse than I think. My spiritual fitness, I always thought, was pretty good. Granted I can use some toning or core work, but for the most part I feel like I'm in shape. I may feel like David but what if I look like a leper. It is important to exam where we are in our walk with God. It can keep us real. It can keep us from becoming complacent. It can help us to grow. It can show us parts of our lives that need to be stretched and strengthened. It can change the way the world sees us. It can make us more powerful than Goliath.

I'm afraid to look at myself in God's mirror. I may have "moobs."

Check out my personal blog
Http://Runinred.blogspot.com
All the cool kids are doing it.

Cincinnati Thanksgiving Day 10k

Faith

I'm writing this from my phone so I have to be brief. I'm a lousy texter, so you can imagine how typing this on my cell would really suck.

Thanksgiving day I got to run a 10k with my sister and wife. The longest my wife had run upto that point was 3 miles. She doubled her best!!! Can you believe it? I'm so proud of her. She didn't think she could do it, I knew she had it in her. I had faith in her.

Faith, believing in something unseen. That's all it takes. Sounds easy. But faith in God can be hard for me. Why is it easier for me to believe in my wife than my lord? What does faith mean to you? What do you believe in?

Faith, It's a powerful idea. I've been told it can change your life, raise the dead, move a mountain, and even finish a 6.25 mile race.

Check out my personal blog
Http://Runinred.blogspot.com
All the cool kids are doing it.

A new friend

I made a friend today.

No, I didn't find a magic hat and put it on top of a snowman. He isn't some imaginary creature that only I can see. I really did make a new friend today. I did it while running.

This morning I left the house about 7:30 - 8:00am in hopes of getting in three miles before heading up home for the Thanksgiving holiday. I figure the more calories I burn, the more I can eat this weekend. Sounds logical. Anyway, as I was about half way through my run, I heard a voice behind me..."Coming up on your right." Ok, this is a good thing. Take note. If you are running and come up on another person going the same direction, announce yourself. Don't scare the bejeezers out of somebody, by sneaking up on them. If you come up on me unannounced you will probably get the crap beat out of you.

I digress. This runner was going at a faster pace than I, so I said "Hello" and "Have a Happy Thanksgiving" fully prepared for him to say the same and leave me standing in his dust. Instead, he began to strike up a conversation. First of all, I do not run well with others. Secondly, I can not run and talk and breathe...but for some reason, something in me changed. I found myself picking up my pace to stay even with him and joined in with the conversation.

I found out a lot about him. He had been running since the late 80's. I told him that I had just started about six years ago. He had heard that I had run several marathons and then informed me that he had a goal of running one when he turned 50. His health had been an issue and kept him from reaching that goal. This guy had some serious digestive issues. He let me know that he had just gotten back on solid food in June and here he is running 4.5 miles. Wow. He is currently 51. We talked about flat marathons (I suggested Huntington WV), how his wife knows my wife, and that he thinks I look like Corey Haim... (I replied, "without the drugs"). It was a great last mile and a half.

It was so great to hear just a part of his story, to listen to just a bit of his triumphs and struggles. He showed me something that I had never seen before.

We are all on the same path. There are those of us that have struggled harder and longer, yet keep running. Goals are made. Things happen that keep us from those goals, but we continue to move toward them. We fight through pain. We stay focused. "Must finish the race." Some have it easy. They never get hurt. Things just come naturally for them. They never gain weight. They have time in abundance. Yet the goal is the same. "Must finish the race."

Paul said it best in Philippians, "Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."

We are all on the same path.

For the record, I do not look like Corey Haim.

Off The Wagon

I've been told I am "off the wagon". Off the wagon? What does that mean? I mean, what's up with the wagon? I decided to research that phrase in order to understand why someone would believe that this amazing pinnacle of athleticism is "off" said wagon.

In the late 1800's and early 1900's several temperance organizations arose. Temperance, for all you boozers out there, is basically a No-Alcohol belief. The Anti-Saloon League, The Woman's Christian Temperance Union, The Abstinence Society all encouraged the men of their day to take "The Pledge." This was a specific and absolute promise never to drink again. And you can believe that it was taken very seriously. During this period in history there existed "water-carts." These carts did not carry drinking water, but rather carried nasty water that was used to dampen down the dirt roads that became so dusty. Many of the men would say that they would rather drink water from the "water-carts" than let a drop of liquor touch their tongues. Over time "water-cart" became "water-wagon" which intern became just "wagon." Someone who happened to break their pledge was then said to be "off the wagon"

There you have it. Just so you know, when I was told I was "off the wagon" it was not in reference to my gin and tonic consumption. No, the reference was to my dedication to diet and a healthy way of life. So what does "off the wagon" really look like. I guess you start with 185 lbs. That's pretty obvious. It looks like Doughboys pizza or Mexican for lunch every other day. It looks like donuts and oreos. It looks like ice cream with chocolate syrup. Oh wow... I really am off the wagon.

How do I get back on the wagon? What if I just decide to do it? Can the wagon just slow down a little or does it have to come to a complete stop in order for me to jump on? Hey!! What if I just get partially on the wagon? You know, just put one leg on.... I'm not quite sure that would work. Crap, there is no way around it.

Step one: Decide to do it. Step two: Get a running start. Step three: Jump back on. Step four: repeat if necessary.

When it comes to God, most of us at one time or another have fallen or maybe even jumped off the wagon. We all know what it looks like; apathy, misplaced anger, lack of patience, selfish, meanness, delighting in the pain of others. Yeah, I think we have all been there at sometime. Where are you now? Are you on the wagon? Are you completely off the wagon? Did you slip, fall, or jump off? Are you trying to keep one foot on and one foot off? Maybe you don't even believe in the wagon. Let me encourage you to hop on. Come on, give the wagon a try. I guarantee that this water is good. Good to the last unending drop. So.....

Step one: Decide to do it. Step two: Get a running start. Step three: Jump on. Step four: repeat if necessary.

What's playing?

I thought you might get a kick out of what my iPhone randomly played while I ran tonight. What are your thoughts on my musical montage?

Have You Ever Seen the Rain -Creedence Clearwater Revival
A Long Time Ago - Jim Croce
Theme from Flood - They Might Be Giants
Take it To The Lord - DC Talk
Super Freak - Rick James
My Ride From Outer Space - Phineas And Ferb/Danny Jacob
Hallelujah - Bud Powell
It Doesn't Matter Anymore - Buddy Holly
Lean On Me - DC Talk
Now I'm Here - Queen
El Condor Pasa - Simon and Garfunkel

How did DC Talk get in there twice out of 1237 songs?

Oh well, I am a collection of so many people. These songs have been shown to me by so many different people. My dad, children, wife, friends... I guess it does take a village. At least when it comes to filling up my iPhone.

Who am I?

I've been asking that question a lot lately.

Who am I to write about running? I don't really do that, do I? Many people know that I love to run. Many people see me out on the road in all kinds of weather. A few people are aware of my blog and, on occasion, have even read it. So, in some bizarre fashion, I am associated with running. But really.... I'm not that good at it. First of all, I am overweight. People will look at me and I will tell them that I am living proof that you can run 20-40 miles a week and still have a body like mine (I do this while jiggling my belly). I lack discipline. The world is filled with die-hard track and field folks out there; people that eat, sleep, and breathe running. I am not one of them...by no means...at all...nowhere near. Lastly, my technique is horrible. I guess this is due to the fact that I am self taught. Never been coached. Oh sure, I have read a magazine on running, even thumbed through a few books, but as far as formal education on the matter, not gonna happen.

So really who am I? You shouldn't be listening to me. But someone has to tell people amazing it can be. I love to run. How it helps me become a better me. How it helps me focus my thoughts. How it changes the way I interact with others. How it creates in me a clean heart and mind and soul. If running can do that for me it can do it for you.

Who am I?

I've been asking that question a lot lately.

Who am I to be leading a group of fifty to seventy 4th and 5th grades every Wednesday night? Isn't there someone else more spiritual and trustworthy to be entrusted with the souls of some of the most impressionable you people in the world? I mean, I not a good choice. Granted people see me at church. Folks know I have a bible and even memorized a few verses. I do put bible study signs in my front yard. But teach kids about God? Really??? First of all, I wrestle with my own problems. Look at me. I'm nowhere near perfect. I struggle with just about every spiritual discipline there is. Prayer, fasting, study, worship......Are there anymore? Lastly, my technique is horrible. I guess this is due to the fact that I am self taught. Never gone to seminary. Shoot, couldn't even spell it if I didn't have spell check. Oh sure, I have read some articles, even thumbed through a few books, but as far as formal education on the matter, not gonna happen.

So really who am I? Should they, or even you, be listening to me. But someone has to tell people how amazing God is. I love him. He helps me be a better me. He helps me focus my thoughts. He creates in me a clean heart and mind and soul. If God can do that for me, I know he can do it for these children.

I know he can do it for you.

Who am I? Who are you? You are just as bad as I am. You are just as unworthy, hateful, ignorant, lazy (well, maybe not all of you). Someone has to tell the world how amazing God is. That includes you. No matter how bad you may suck at it.

We need you. I can only reach a few. I can't reach everyone. (or at least that's what my viewer stats are saying.)

Tough Mudder

Wednesday I decided to try and run a few miles. The weather was cold and rainy. Since I still felt like crap, I decided to do all my running on the treadmill. Down in the basement, struggling to put one foot in front of the other while watching Regis, I felt like I was sucking in water. My chest was so congested that I felt like I was breathing through water, not a good feeling. Luckily for me, my run was cut short by the arrival of a friend. That was 2 and 1/2 of the toughest miles ever. Thank you Jordan for giving me an out.

Anyway, my friend is also a fellow runner. He and a group of his buddies are participating in a unique run this weekend, a "Tough Mudder." Their website claims that it "is not your average lame-@$$ mud run or spirit-crushing ‘endurance’ road race. Our 10-12 mile obstacle courses are designed by British Special Forces to test all around strength, stamina, mental grit, and camaraderie. Forget finish times. Simply completing a Tough Mudder is a badge of honor." The course "consists of a 10-12 mile trail run over uneven, hilly, and wet ground that includes 20-25 military-style obstacles." Only about 78% of participants actually finish this monster. This is totally over the top.

Long distance running can be pretty boring for some. You might even say that it can be...dare I say it... a little easy. It can become routine, mundane, something that you have to do out of obligation not desire. Just running. I cant believe that this thing Jordan is going to do could ever become anything less than exhilarating, unpredictable, an utter challenge. This type of race will require each person to be ready! You just cant get up one day and decide you want to do this. This is something that one must train for, put in hours of preparation. Sometimes you got to spice it up like this, change the scenery, add obstacles, mix up training styles, anything but the "dreadmill."

I think this "Tough Mudder" is like taking a mission trip; a mission trip to a place that can truly test a person. A place that stretches your faith, that throws obstacles at you, that is spiritually uneven, hilly, and grounded in swamp-like beliefs. It can help to keep you focused. It will require of you to be ready. It will demand of you to train, to study. You must be focused. You must be determined. You must be resolute when you take this trip. This mission trip to a place that truly tests your faith. A place like Haiti, like Africa, like....Kentucky.

Do it out of desire not just obligation. It will be an utter challenge, unpredictable, nothing less than exhilarating.

I don't feel so good :(

I love it when people pass you by and ask, "How are you?" I don't think most people really mean that. What people should just say is, "Hello," and leave it at that or... "Hey I am asking "How are you doing?" but really all I mean is that I'm acknowledging to you that I should be interested in your well being. Really I'm just trying to act nice and give the perception of concern. But, if you are doing well, then I would love to hear it. If you are struggling, sick, have serious problems...I don't want you to share them with me. Just say, "I'm doing great," and keep on walking." Now that is honesty.

I don't feel so good today. I noticed on Friday that I was getting sick. About every fall I end up getting a stupid cold that lasts about a week and then goes away. This one is a doosie. My son thinks I have bronchitis. I think he is crazy. He is the one with bronchitis... and a double ear infection. Needless to say, I had to take off work to be with him today. I have only taken one personal sick day in all the time I have been working, about 25 years. Today, if Nate hadn't been ill, I would have gone on to work. My wife gets aggravated at me for never taking a sick day. I tell her, that its not that easy to get coverage for me. If I don't show up for work, the store doesn't open. All my employees need me. They cant do it without me. No one knows all the intricacies of that place but me. It would implode without me. Me, me, me....

It's funny how I feel that "I" am so important that I can't take a sick day. I sure don't hesitate to put the running shoes away. I didn't run Sunday or today. I knew that I needed my rest and time to recuperate. Running in the pouring rain is not what my body needs right now. Shoot, its all I can do to breathe right now. Can you imagine being sick and getting soaking wet in the cold? I also cut out all family time at home to rest. The past couple of nights I have went straight to bed. No staying up chatting with the kids or watching TV, just hitting the sack. Getting some extra shut eye. Why is it that I find it so easy to pick and choose what to give up? I understand that supporting my family comes before physical activity. I know that without my livelihood there would be no house or car payment. But without my health what would a person have? Without my family where would I be?

I guess I just don't understand myself. I want to run. I want to work. I want to be a better person, father, husband. I want to know my God more. Why is it that I find it so easy to pick and choose what to give up? God generally goes first, then running, then family just being honest. Work usually goes last. Something is screwed up there. Choosing my running and work over my God is just messed up. Even choosing my family over my God is just messed up. Thinking about how I can easily push him out of my life turns my stomach. It makes me physically ill.

I don't feel so good right now. I guess I do need a sick day



Ps. Props to Abby Thomas who taught my family the importance of wordle
check out her blog at thomastimeslikethese.blogspot.com

Hulk Hands, Thong, and Mask

One of my brothers said he would run with my sister and I on three conditions. He wanted to run only wearing a pair of Hulk hands, a luchador mask, and a thong. Can you picture that? My brother is no little guy. Running a 5k looking like a Ray Mysterio/Incredible Hulk amalgam only wearing butt floss. He said he might not finish but he sure would get on the front page of the local newspaper. That year for Christmas, I got him all three. Nothing beats watching a big old biker boy unwrap a pair of Daisey Fuentes extra large rhinestone studded thongs. Luckily, I only had to watch him try on the mask and gloves. Wow. I wonder if he ever put on the thong. Needless to say, he never ran with us, but I did give him the opportunity. I gave him what he said he needed in order to start.

If you have read any of my blogs, you will have found out that I started running because of my sister. She inspired me and challenged me to run a half marathon. She gave me advice. She got me a training schedule and checked on my progress. We ran the Flying Pig Half together. My sister gave me what I needed to get started. She gave me the opportunity.

That first race helped me get healthy. I lost a lot of weight, lowered my blood pressure and cholesterol. I gained greater stamina and a marked improvement in my state of mind. Most of all, running has really taught me immeasurably more about my God. God opens up my eyes almost every time I hit the pavement.

Today all I could think about was all the terrible things going on in the world. Horrible things. Even in my own hometown. I made the mistake of listening to the news while I ran. Never again. Never again will I listen to the news while I run. That was stupid. Having the sins of man pounded into your ears over and over for 5 miles was to much to bear. It has captivated my mind all day. All day, until tonight.

My brother had a heart attack today. Luckily, he will be fine. He will have to make some life changes, but he will recover. He is very tough and strong willed. He is an amazing guy and I love him. I don't want to think about child abusers when I run. I don't want to think about robberies when I run. I don't want to think about..... I want to think about the fun I have had with my brother when I run. I want to think about my family when I run. I want to think about all the blessings God has given me when I run. I'm glad that God has given my brother another opportunity. Given him what he needed to get started. Another chance. God gives them to each of us every day.

I don't want to think about sad things when I run. I want to picture my brother in a mask, gloves, and women's underwear.

Nasty, Nasty, Nasty

"You are a disgusting running partner." That is what my wife said to me today after we ran together this morning. Apparently I am a little bit to gross for her. She's telling the truth, I am pretty sickening. When it comes to logging my miles, I can be nasty, nasty, nasty....but only for the first couple of miles. Cathy and I never run more than three miles together. She is pleased with this mileage and I love running with her. Even if I am scheduled to go 5 or 6, if CJ wants to run, then I will run three miles that day. The problem is that it takes me a couple of miles to get warmed up. By warmed up I mean all necessary bodily functions preformed and out of the way.

In the first mile I fart, burp, blow my nose, hack up loogies, sneeze, cough...you name it I do it. I cant seem to help it. When I get outside and my heart starts pumping, I breathe in that morning air and its like taking a high dose decongestant/laxative/gas tablet. I let it all lose!! Usually this is not an issue because I am alone and in the dark. No one is around to hear or see what is going on. Not today. Today, Cathy was with me. I just ran like I normally would. Let it all hang out. Yeah, It was nasty.

I hope you are not like me; all nasty when you are alone or in the dark and expect to be different when your with people or in the light. It becomes a habit, you know. The grossness takes over. Eventually it will seep out into the daylight. You just do it because its the way you always have done it. One day, when you are with loved ones, you will let it slip out. Or maybe, you will just do it and not even care. Either way it will not be pretty.

God doesnt want us to be like that. He wants us to be faithful and steadfast. He wants us to be pure and honest. Our deeds done in the dark will be revealed in the light. He, after all, is the light. What we do and say is on outpouring of what is in our hearts. I hope your heart isn't full of snot, because that would be just plain old nasty.

One man's trash...

Today I got to sleep in, that is if you count 7:00am sleeping in. Usually if I'm going to run it has to be about 5:00 in the morning. That way I can log my miles and still be home before my family has to get up. November 8th is election day in Kentucky and school is cancelled. In order for my children to be supervised and not run around like wild hooligans, I had to take a day off (My wife has a big to-do at her work today). Taking a day off for me means getting a few extra winks and running in daylight.

I like leaving the house at sunrise. Rarely do I get a chance to soak up my surroundings. Running in pitch black does have its draw backs, all you can see is just a few steps in front of you or silhouettes under street lights. Today, however, I could take in everything around me. What stood out to me was a little disappointing. Trash. Trash everywhere. Garbage of all shapes and sizes. It totally amazed me at all the crap on the side of the road, on the sidewalk, in peoples yards. I'm not a litter bug and it drives me crazy if someone tosses stuff out of their car window. When I see that happen I want to go all "Mad Max" on them and blow up their car (in a Christian kind of way).

Looking at all the items started to depress me. You see all the usual stuff that you expect to see; cigarette packs, pop cans, paper, plastic bottles, DQ moolate cups. Then I noticed that some of this "junk" really wasn't "junk" at all. It was still good. Still useful. Hey! There is a funnel. I don't have a funnel, I need it. That iPhone case looks brand new. Granted it does have a butterfly on it, but someone would like it. To bad I have a 3GS, it wont fit mine. A returnable Ale-8 bottle. What idiot would toss that? That's like throwing money away. Discarding things that still has value. What are these people thinking?

Everyday I come in contact with people that many would call "trash". Drug users, alcoholics, abusers, liars, cheaters, freaks, slackers of all shape and size enter and leave my life every minute of every day. A lot of times I get caught up in labelling these people as just objects. But they are living, breathing souls. Creations of God that people use and toss aside when they are finished with them. Many have been told since they were old enough to hear that they are worthless, useless, garbage. These people are not "junk" to be chucked out of the window when society deems them used up. They are human beings loved by a jealous God. And they are not just loved, but they are also sacred to him. Sacred. Holy. Full of potential and purpose.

One day my wife threw away a Barbie play box because it was ripped and dirty. I pulled it out of the trash can, cleaned it up and sold it for $30.00 on eBay. Everything has value, a Barbie play box, a funnel,....people.

It nice to know that what is one man's trash is God's treasure.

Great Expectations

Today I expected to run 6 miles in the afternoon. That didn't happen. What did happen?

Small group discussion on emotional healthy spirituality. Finding letters to my daughter from her baptism. Going through a dress-up box. Helping my son find his Nintendo DS (it was in the basket...Dad, I looked in the basket). Took our daughters to youth. Cooked Sunday dinner. Did dishes. Went to the groceries. Threw paper airplanes. Rode bikes in town. Taxi kids from small group. Scan papers for my wife. Oh yeah....Ran 3 miles.

I thought my day would be quite and lazy. I had a picture in my mind of how every hour would play out. If I would have had it my way I would have missed out on so much. Playing with my son. Chasing each other with paper airplanes. Talking to friends you meet while going for a bike ride. The chance to serve my wife and my children. I would not have met and had a chance to encourage two high school boys as I brought them back from a small group meeting. I would have never had these chances to show God's love if the day had gone as I had drawn it up.

You see, what I expect of my life and what God has planned for my life are completely different. I guess you could say they are miles apart. At least 3 miles today.

Nightmare

A good morning run helps make up for a bad night.

My pre-dawn run today was much needed....very much needed. Last night I had a horrible nightmare. Bad dreams are things I rarely ever have. Really, I can only remember one recurring nightmare as a child, something about a monster coming to get me. Pretty traumatic for a 6 year old. When the creature would get to me I found that I couldn't scream. I couldn't run. Can you believe it...I couldn't run. My wife and I feel wholeheartedly that the evil one tries to attack our little ones in the dream. I think he also goes after adults. He has left me alone for a long time, until last night.

I hesitate to tell you the exact details of this terrible dream because it had to do with my father's death. My brothers and sister and I are still grieving the loss of our parents and I don't believe that will subside anytime soon. Their deaths are still so near. We miss them both very much and express it in our own unique way. Therefore out of love for my siblings I will not share all the details, just know that it in no way put my parents in a bad light. What it did was to make me realize that my dad was gone. I tried to wake up, but couldn't. I tried to move, but couldn't. I tried to run but couldn't. I tried to scream, but could only get out muffled noises. I laid there in my bed and wanted to yell for help, wanted to cry out in agony, but my body wouldn't obey.

My words began to take shape, to take form until at last my groanings awoke my wife. Cathy touched me, held me. She asked me what was wrong. Shaking, crying I told her "My dad is dead." Cathy, gently and with infinte wisdom, whispered, "Oh no honey, Your dad is alive."

My dad is alive. My dad is alive!

As I ran this morning, I got a shiver down my back as I relived the nightmare. It was so vivid. So real. Then the cool air hit my face and my foot falls began to strike a melody on the pavement. I could see my breath form in front of me. I could hear my heart beating as I ran. It was like a symphony. A musical movement brought to life by the run. Life all around me, visible in my breath, audible in my beating heart.

Thank you God for your saving grace. Thank you, that through you we live and breath. Thank you, that through you we have eternal life. Thank you, that through you I will never perish. Thank you. Because of you my dad is alive. Thank you.

My biggest mistake

I truly enjoy running. That of course if evident or why else would I have a blog dedicated to the spiritual aspects of "running". One of the worse things about loving something so much is that you want everyone to experience the same exhilaration, the same sense of accomplishment, the same joy that you get from that thing. How can anyone not like running? It's the greatest thing since sliced bread.

I have tried to get my family involved with my favorite past time only to fail. This year I thought that I had figured out how to get all three of my children and my wife to hit the pavement. In lieu of any Fathers Day gifts, I asked them to all run a 5K with me in late summer. They knew that it meant running/walking about five times a week. They knew that they would have to increase from 1/4 mile to over 2 miles before the 5K. They agreed.

They ran/walked on the treadmill on days over 90 degrees. We would all go to the track on cooler days. We all worked on getting our mileage (or footage) up to where it would be feasible to run 3.1 miles with some ease. They did fuss on occasion. Flat out said they couldn't do it on some days. Surprised me by their times on other days. Truthfully, I believe they were prepared for a 5K earlier than we where shooting for. Much earlier.

In the middle of our training we went to Isle Of Palms, South Carolina for vacation (near Charleston). It just so happened that on the first full day we would be there, the city was sponsoring a 5K on the beach. How cool is that???!! We were ready. We would have the chance of running in the early morning with sea oats on one side and the ocean on the other. Their beach is very long, flat and fairly hard for being sand. This could not have played out any better. We would run our race together on the beach.

This turned out to be the biggest mistake of my running career. Granted my family upheld their Father's Day promise, and we did all run a race together, however....I would never wish this on anyone. My kids were absolutely miserable. They HATED it. Totally had no fun at all. "I'm dying!! I'm going to be sick. I have to poop. My stomach is killing me. You said we would do this in August and this is just July. You don't love me. I have asthma. It's to hot. I can't run in this sand." What had I done? This is terrible on so many levels. I thought one of my daughters would pass out, the other throw up, and my son just sit down in the sand and pout and cry.

The thing I love. The thing I want my family to love, reduced to 3 miles of complete and utter hell. And I did it. I forced them to train. I forced them to run. I forced them to compete. I tell of the saving grace of lacing up those shoes and going out for a jog just about every day, but this time I took it a little bit to far.

You cant make people love the things you love. You cant force it upon them and expect them to react like they just won the lottery. Running is something that people just have to find out for themselves. Does that mean that I stop proclaiming the wonders of running? No. Absolutely not. It does mean that I tell my story and let other decide for themselves. Maybe one day my kids will choose to run. I hope so, cause I do love it so and sharing it with them would make it 100 times more enjoyable.

You cant make people love the things you love. You cant force God upon them and expect them to react like they just won the lottery. God is something that people just have to find out for themselves. Does that mean that I stop proclaiming the wonders of my God? No. Absolutely not. It does mean that I tell my story and let other decide for themselves. Maybe one day others will choose to run. I hope so, cause I do love it so and sharing it with them would make it 100 times more enjoyable.





Don't let the smiles fool you

Mexican Radio

This morning I got in 3 miles, but the issue was...my music. I rarely run with music. Usually I just enjoy thinking and trying to solve the worlds problems in my mind while I log my miles. It can also be pretty dangerous running with headphones. A lot of people run with music. Most marathons say that it is against their rules to allow runners to participate with headphones in, but I have never seen any group enforce it. Let me say that running next to someone for any period of time with "Eye of the Tiger" blaring at volume ten can be extremely annoying. The last time I ran with my music was about a month ago, pre-dawn, with traffic and I could not hear a thing. Later a fellow runner fussed at me because she passed me in her vehicle, honked, and I didn't even hear her. Yeah... that was probably a bad idea on my part. See, last year for Christmas, Cathy got me these really cool headphones that fit perfectly in your ears and drown out ALL NOISE!!!

Anyway, this morning I ran with my music and those bomb headphones (known as yurbuds). One problem; my iPhone kept playing the same song over and over again. I stopped to fix it, to no avail. It is impossible to get an iPhone to do anything with gloves on. I figured that I would just solve the problem when I returned home. I mean, I'm only going 3 miles, how bad can it be? Do you know how irritating it can be to run for 30 minutes listening to the same song. Don't get me wrong, I think Wall of Voodoo's "Mexican Radio" is a great song, but after 5 or 6 times of "I wish I was in Tijuana, eating barbecued iguana," you start to get a little aggravated. Oh well, when I got home I just turned the music off.

It seems that... maybe I do have to hear something 5 or 6 or 10 times to finally hear what's being said. Most of the time God has to continually tell me, even yell at me to listen to his voice, to see him moving, to be humble, to work diligently, to love others, to read his word, to spend time with him. He tells me these things over and over again. Sometimes I get home and turn him off.

Most times I turn him off before I even leave the house.

Towards the end of my run, I just stopped listening to the words of the song. I pray that I don't stop listening to the words of my Savior. Keep talking God. I will try to pay attention. Sometimes I am "on a wavelength far from home."

Christmas Shoes?

I can't believe it. Halloween just ended and I am hearing Christmas songs already. You know what Christmas song I just can not stand? That stupid Christmas shoes song. A song written for the sole purpose of making people cry. Ugh. I want someone to write a Christmas song about one of my children buying me a new pair of running shoes. I have had mine for almost a year and the cushioning is all out of them. My shins, toes, and legs kill me while I run. If those things didn't cost so much and if I wasn't so cheep.... Maybe Nate, my ten year old, will go to a running store and take a pair of Saucony ProGrid Omni 10's size 10.5 up to the counter. Maybe he will go to pay for them, realize he doesn't have the money, turn to the gentleman behind him and say.....

"Sir, I want to buy these shoes for my Daddy, please
It's Christmas Eve and these shoes are just his size
Could you hurry, sir, Daddy says there's not much time
You see his feet have hurt for quite a while
And I know these shoes would make him smile
And I want him to feel comfortable if Daddy runs Boston this year"

I know, what does this have to do with Christian principles and running. Not much. I did spell out Christmas. That should count for something. Let's just say, I believe that Jesus has a good sense of humor. He did make the platypus (no offense Perry)

Regaining Discipline

This has been a tough year. I have been so irregular in my running. Cathy had divine knowledge that 2011 would be a difficult year for us, I didn't want to believe her. She was right. She usually is. I seem to have lost my interest. I seem to have misplaced my desire. I can't seem to find my discipline. I also seem to have......whatever. I don't even want to write. This has been a tough year.

How do I overcome this? This total indifference. How do I regain that yearning in my heart? I remember how much I love it. I remember the feeling it gives me. I remember how passionate I have been. How do I get all this back?

Wait. Am I talking about running or my time with God?

I want it back.

A letter to a friend

I was never athletic. I suck at all types of sports. I can't hit, throw, kick, or even bowl half way decent. Needless to say, I was the last person anyone would think would become a runner.

I started running three times.

The first two were absolute failures. I remember one day thinking, "Man am I out of shape...I think I'll run." That lasted a week. The second time I tried to start was the weekend of a friends wedding. The wedding party spent Thursday through Saturday at a hotel in Louisville, Ky. A couple people, including my sister, said they were going to get up early and run, so I thought I would go along. That lasted about 30 minutes.

The last time I tried, it finally stuck.

On January 1, 2005 I weighed 200lbs. I found it difficult to play and be active with my children. Going up and down steps was a chore. I would be 38 years old and the constant reminder of my father having a heart attack at age 40 haunted me. Something had to change. I wanted to feel alive, not tired, depressed, and out of breath. My self image was in the toilet. I was worried, deeply concerned. I was in trouble. The truth was...I didn't want to leave my children without a father or my wife without a husband. What I was living was definitely not God's "Plan A" for my life.

I made a decision that day to start exercising and change my eating habits. Luckily we had a treadmill in the basement. I made up my mind that I would walk on that treadmill every morning before my family awoke for 30 minutes. I would keep a journal of the calories I burned, the speed I walked, and the distance I went. I would also write down my weight, what I ate, and how I felt. The first two weeks went well. I began to get bored with walking and sped up the treadmill. I found that I could go farther the faster I went, which intern meant more burned calories. It looked like I might be onto something. The next two weeks...difficult. The kids would get sick in the middle of the night. Something would require me to stay up late so my sleep would suffer. I would feel ill. My muscles hurt. The cards seemed to be stacked against me. I might have quit if not for my sister.

My sister had been running for several years. The kids, Cathy, and I had even gone to root her on when she ran the Flying Pig Marathon in Cincinnati, Ohio. Tammy called me and asked if I would be interested in running a half marathon with her the first of May. She assumed that I had been running for awhile, since I had started so long ago (She thought I had been running since the wedding 6 months previous.) I accepted, foolishly, and told her I didn't know how to get ready in 12 weeks for a 13 mile run. By that time I had managed to run upto 3 or 4 miles a day. She mailed me a training guide that showed me step by step what to do each day so that my body would be ready come May.

My sister and I ran the inaugural Flying Pig Half-Marathon in 2 hours and 20 minutes. Our goal was to beat the marathon winner and we did. I did not have any running gear or running shoes. I wore a pair of skechers, tie-dyed long sleeve t-shirt, and an old pair of gym shorts. It didn't matter. I finished. and... I guess you could say that's when I really began.

I am now going on my sixth year of running. I have completed a marathon in 6 states with my best being...the Flying Pig marathon in Cincy. I have dropped my weight to 155lbs at its lowest. I am currently at 175 (I like food too much). I feel good, most of the time. Running is something I have to do. Most people just don't understand that. I have to. Just like people have to eat and breath, people who run have to run. For me it is my alone time. My thinking time. My decompressing time. My praise time. My time with my maker. Most of all, it is the time that God has shown himself to me. I get a glimpse of his awesome being with every step I take.

I had never realized how much running is like our spiritual journey. The parallels are constantly visible. Become a follower is a lot like becoming a runner. I knew my life wasn't right. I was self-destructing. I had tried other things to fix myself to know avail. I had given Christianity a try a couple times before, but really didn't have my heart fully in it. Then one day, the light went on. If I want to truly be the best I can be, I needed to be fully committed to Christ. I took a stand. The first couple weeks were great. The next....very difficult. Everything seemed destined to break my spirit. Luckily for me...someone who had been at this Christianity thing longer and stronger than me came by my side and pulled me through. I'm glad she married me.

Many times I think about giving up. People tell you to quit. The body tells you to give up. Circumstances tell you that it cant be done. I heard a quote from a runner who ran across the Sahara Desert that said..."Running is 95% mental and the other 5% is mental." Be compelled. Capture your mind and your spirit. Renew them daily and anything is possible. Most of all...keep your eye on the finish line.

What if I stumble?

This morning I stumbled.

I left the house prepared for my run. It was a little chilly, but I had the right clothes on. It was 5:00am and pitch black, but I had my reflective gear and my new headlamp so.."no worries". I was pressed for time so I would have to cut my 5 miles down to 4 miles. I'm off tomorrow so I can always add an extra mile on Wednesday. Everything about my run was fairly normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. The weather was fine, my body and mind felt fine, I was doing a route I have done in the dark over a hundred times, probably more.

My new headlamp is the most powerful light I have ever run with. It has three settings; bright, sunburn, and retinal disintegration. I can see everything with it, on most days. Today I was caught off guard. As I was about 1/2 mile from home, on a normal stride, my right foot struck against something along the shoulder of the road. I didn't see it. Even with this floodlight on my forehead, it came out of nowhere. I have no idea what it was, but I almost bit the pavement. Any passer-by probably got a kick out of watching me try to keep my balance and remain in rhythm. I barely escaped disaster on the side of the by-pass.

I have fallen while running before, twice. Each time I wiped out just feet from my house. The first time I fell, I ripped my new running pants and bloodied my knees. The second time I fell I used my gloved hands to absorb the impact. I hit the ground rolled on to my side and got up with bruised, scraped hands and a sore side.

The real question is not will I stumble, but what will I do once I am on the ground. You see, I am positive I will fall again. I am sure it will hurt. I am sure there will be some visible damage, maybe even a little blood. No matter how prepared I am, no matter how cautious I am, I just know it will happen. I also know, that I will take my lumps, get up, and keep going.

Last year was a "year of jubilee" for my household. 2011, we believe, will be a "year of testing". So far....It has been. Everywhere I look I see obstacles in my path. Every aspect of my life has it's stumbling blocks. Every member of my family has something major to work through. Every day something thing comes out of nowhere and tries to trip us up. My concern is not "Is my God big enough for what life throws at me?" but "What if I stumble in the midst of the trial?" Will I make it? Can I get up and keep going?

I may stumble. I may not. God showed me today that I need to keep focused. I need to keep in stride. I need to keep my light shining. I need to keep being prepared. I need to get rid of worry. I need to take what pops up in my path, hit it, and struggle to regain my balance while continuing to move forward. And if the time comes when I do stumble...when I do fall....his love will never stop...even when my run, my walk, becomes a crawl.

"What if I stumble, What if I fall? What if I loose my step and I make fools of us all? Will the love continue when my walk becomes a crawl? What if I stumble? What if I fall?" -DC Talk

What I saw while I ran Sunday morning

I think I know why Jesus would get up early in the morning to talk to his father. Everything seems so new and fresh as the sun comes up. The air is cleaner. It is quieter. The world feels innocent. For some reason, I feel the same way too. New, fresh, clean, quiet, innocent. Thank you for letting me experience you like the morning sun.

A Runners Prayer

God doesn't promise us the complete view of our course only that he will help us with each step we take.

PS. Be patient with the audio. It was extremely windy.

The light

I used to run without a light. When I first started running I didn't really think anything about it. Getting up and running in the dark seemed to come natural to me. I never gave it a thought. Granted I could not see much of anything along my path, nor could anything see me. I was invisible to the world around me and everything was a blur, a shadow to me.

Some runners were adamant that I should use a light. They seemed to be genuinely concerned for my safety. I guess I wasn't running the way I should. Using a light was something that had never even crossed my mind. Apparently they thought that running without illumination was dangerous, reckless, and bordered on foolishness.

Running in total darkness did leave me extremely vulnerable. I couldn't tell what was around me. Any danger lurking around the corner or flying down the road could have easily put an end to my journey. Several times I was almost hit by things along the way. Often I would stumble over an unseen obstacle. I had felt uncomfortable, uneasy, and unsafe. Eventually, I listened to the other runners and realized they were right and I was wrong. I was missing out by doing this thing in "pitch black".

I use a light now. All the time. It really does make a "night and day" difference. It shows me my path. Now, I can see obstacles in my way. I don't fear the road or what I may find on it. Things that come my way know I am present. I am no longer invisible and everything around me takes shape and color. I even clothe myself in reflective gear. Not only do I run with the light, but I reflect the light from anything around me. I want to be seen. I want people to know I am there. I want to stand out. I am not content to just be on the side of the road, running aimlessly in the dark. I want, no need to illuminated and to illuminate.

I am so thankful that people cared enough to show me the importance of running with the light. I am so glad that they told me what I was missing. I am so overjoyed that I have the light now in my life.

The road is still long. The road is still crooked and hilly. The road is still not void of danger. The road is still very difficult at times. With light in my life the road is not a scary place anymore. With the light in my life I can see and be seen. With the light in my life my running takes on a brand new perspective.

Thank you Jesus for lighting my path.

I stepped in what?

Tuesday was a total debacle.

My alarm went off at 5:00am. I forced myself out of bed and headed downstairs with all my running clothes. Keeping all the lights off so as not to wake anyone, I made it to the "little boys room" (the potty). You never know when nature will call, plus it's a habit. My morning duty. As I sat there in pitch black, the phone rang. At 5:00am the phone rang. Have you ever been in the bathroom and have to get the phone? Finish quickly and sprint to answer the call. I was too late. The ringing woke Cathy and she had picked up the receiver. It was the school ..."I regret to inform you that due to inclement weather, school for Tuesday in Mongtomery county has been cancelled."

I should have gone ahead and ran, but nooooo... I thought, "Hey, I can lay in bed for another hour." So I left my running clothes piled on the bathroom floor and crawled back under the covers for another 60 minutes of rest.

My alarm went off at 6:10am. I never actually went back to sleep. Quietly I snuck back down to the bathroom to get my clothes. AHHHHHH!!! What in the world? Why is the floor all wet? Oh no. I stepped in what? I had peed all over the floor earlier when I was going to the bathroom in the the dark. Not only is it on the floor, but I leaked all over my running clothes!! I cannot believe this. I have to scrub the bathroom floor before I can run. First I have to sanitize the john, and then get new clothes. Quietly I tiptoe upstairs, gently opening and shutting drawers, in hopes of keeping everyone asleep. Change clothes, go back downstairs, touch the doorknob and....the dog starts barking. Yap, Yap, Yap!!! Stupid dog. Go back upstairs, let Grizz out of his crate, Dear God am I ever going to get to run? Go back downstairs....the steps are creaking. Let the dog outside to do his business (He better not pee on the floor, I have already had to clean up one mess). Let Grizz back in. Clean all the snow off of him. Finally I can run. I start out the door, walk down my driveway, put my feet to the sidewalk and....

The sidewalk is a solid sheet of ice. I do the splits right in front of my neighbors house. Forget this noise. I go back inside and give up running for the morning. Are you kidding me? Can anything else go wrong? I will run today!! I will!! I don't care what happens. Even if I have to run at midnight, I will run. Bring it on!!! Go ahead put every obstacle in my path, I will hit the pavement. And.. I did. I left the house in the dark at 9:00pm and got in 4 miles. It was so cold I had icicles in my goatee. I was bound and determined to log my miles. Nothing was going to stand in my way. Not even urine.

Too bad I don't treat my time with God with the same resolve. It seems that I allow any slight deviation from my planned day to interrupt or completely negate my worship, my prayer time, my bible study. The kids stayed up too long, somene spilled a drink, homework, bills, phone call, favorite show,....someone peed on the floor. Not enough time in the day to speak with the Creator of the universe. I lie to myself and say, "It's alright, there will always be tomorrow."

The funny thing is when I short change God, when I let whatever I have stepped in push God out my agenda, my day turns out to be a total debacle.

Jesus in Gym Shoes

I run alone.

It's a choice. Many fellow runners have mentioned running together, but my schedule makes is virtually impossible to hook up. I get up at 4:50-5:10am during the week which seems to be just a little bit too early for most. On the weekends, I still get up before the butt crack of dawn, so I am usually done or on the homestretch before most of the local runners head out. I have become used to doing this thing by myself. It's peaceful, uneventful. I become focused on myself, contemplative. The running becomes surreal, almost "out-of-body-ish". I just do it. No cares.

Today was different, special, a privilege. I ran with someone.

Not just anyone, my niece. The experience of running with family, for me, is one of a kind. I have run with my sister, my daughter, and now my niece. Each time I count myself lucky.

This morning, when most college kids were stumbling home from their crazy partying, my 18 year old niece got up at 6:00am to run with her old uncle. The night before, I made sure she had the right clothes to keep her warm because of the 30degree pre-dawn temperature .She's got those goofy toe-running-shoes. Oh and she has three kidney stones, and recovering from a stress fracture last year. I know, crazy. I woke her and we headed out the door for a cold, damp 4 mile run. Then a strange thing happened.

I ran differently. I would check on my niece. I wanted to make sure she was fine. I watched where I stepped. I knew she was unfamiliar with the terrain. I would let her know what mile we were on. I gave her the opportunity to stop at 3 miles instead of 4. I told her when we would be going down hill and up hill. I made sure that she ran farthest from the road. She did not have reflective gear or a headlamp. I would slow down or speed up depending on what her pace was. I became constantly aware that someone was watching me, depending on me, expecting me to lead them on a path and deliver them safely home.

God let me know right away, that is what he does every day...if we let him. He checks on us. He guides our every step. He protects us. He stays by our side.

Not only does God do this, but he expects the same from us. We are called to be "Jesus in gym shoes" for those around us. There is always someone watching us, always someone one step behind us, always someone who needs us to slow down or speed up so they can have a person run this race by their side. To many we are the only way they ever experience God. We are "Jesus in gym shoes." Wow. What a special, daunting, privilege.

I wonder how I am doing at this? Sometimes, not so good. I have become used to doing this thing by myself. It's peaceful, uneventful. I become focused on myself, complacent. The running becomes surreal, almost "out-of-body-ish". I just do it. No cares.

Running the Water Path

I mentioned in a post not too long ago that I did get to run in Haiti. Well sort of. I got to run the path that the villagers took to get water. I wish I could explain to you the profound affect this had had on me. Check out the video of that path, then count your blessings and decide to do something about the condition of our world. (This video is in HD so it takes a little bit to load, be patient..sort of like Haitian time)

Make sure and watch the terrain, rock, dry river bed, cactus....

Moses and Zits

Running for me has one MAJOR setback. One that I absolutely detest.

As I increase my mileage a strange metamorphosis occurs. I do get stronger. I have more energy. I have greater stamina. Most of the time I lose weight (not always, I love food too much). I feel better, happier. I am less stressed and generally more pleasant to be around. Many times when I get grumpy, my wife tells me to go for a run, that's how beneficial it is to me. You see running does the body and soul good...for the most part.

The amount of time I spend running is evident when you see me. It is written on my face. Acne. Zits. Pimples. It drives me crazy. Every time I start to gear up my training or running I revert to those dreaded teen years when all I could do was cry myself to sleep with a jar of Noxzema and Clearasil (or ProActiv for all you youngsters out there.) There is nothing I can do to prevent it. I know there has to be a scientific explanation involving increased testosterone production or something crazy like that. Maybe it has to do with me being so hairy. I don't know. All I know is that when I run farther and harder I get zits. I just want to put a bag over my face. (no smart remarks needed)

So I guess you are wondering where I am going with this. Sit back, you're not going to believe this. As I ran this morning complaining to God about reverting back to my adolescence, griping about how everyone will see my "wonderful complexion." I was reminded of Moses. Yeah, Moses.

Read Exodus 34. Cool chapter. Moses spent 40 days and nights with God on Mount Sinai(He had to replace those 2 stone tablets he broke). When he came down from spending 6 weeks alone with God "his face was radiant." Aaron, his brother, and all the Israelites were scared to death to look at him. All of Israel believed that if a man looked on the face of God they would surely die. God shined through Moses so much that this earthly man's family, friends, acquaintances didn't even want to come near him. They saw God when they looked at Moses. It got to be so bad that Moses had to put a veil over his face whenever he was with his people. He had to walk around town with a bag on his head. The only time he took the veil off was when he went alone to talk to the all mighty.

I hate the fact that the appearance of my skin is directly proportional to the amount of running I do. The sad thing is that the look on my face is also directly proportional to the amount of time I spend with my God.

I really wish I had to wear a bag on my head (no smart remarks needed).

My Wife

Let me start off by saying, "I love my wife." This year we will celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary. I asked her to marry me and in a moment of weakness she said yes. Actually she asked "is that ring real?" Anyway you get the drift.

If you have never met my wife, she is one of a kind. First and foremost she loves the Lord, with all her heart. She soaks up the word of God at every opportunity. Cathy is also extremely intelligent. I hate to say it but she graduated ahead of me in high school. If Cathy wanted to be a nuclear physicist she would go to school at night, while having 2 jobs, taking care of our family and still graduate first in her class a year ahead of schedule with a minor in brain surgery. She is funny. I mean, really funny. Sometimes when she starts laughing, she cant quit. I wish you could hear her. It's hilarious. Her sense of humor is witty, clever,.... I don't know how to describe it. One last thing that is interesting about Cathy is her mastery of "the art of persuasion". She doesn't believe this, but its true. If you ever sell your soul to the devil, Cathy can talk the devil into giving it back to you. She is that good....which brings me to Tuesday morning.

The alarm went off at 5:00am. Time for me to get up and log 4 to 5 miles. I am exhausted. I have been staying up late and not resting well. I decide to reset the clock and go back to bed...but I made the mistake of waking Cathy in the process. "Aren't you going to get up and run?" "No, I am so tired. I really need to sleep." "You should run." "Cathy, I am worn out." "You know you'll feel better, if you go run." "I don't want to run, I want to sleep."....nothing.....nothing...

So needless to say I finished 4 miles that morning. It was refreshing in the cold morning air. My pace was faster than normal. I had gotten plenty of sleep. She was right, I did feel better. Cathy even asked me that morning after all the kids were up getting ready for school.."Don't you feel better now?" I responded jokingly, "I'm not answering, I'm supposed to be mad at you?" She laughed. She was right.

Thank you Cathy for persuading me to get out of bed. Thank you for holding me accountable. Thank you for re-enforcing my commitment to running.

What if we did that for each other when it comes to our spiritual lives? Checking on each others devotion to the word, worship, and fellowship. What if someone made you think hard about how serious you are when it comes to the things of God? Would you be more apt to follow through on your commitment to him? What if, when you didn't want to study his word or do what he has asked you to do, someone loved you enough to say, "Aren't you going to run today?" "You should run."

"You know you'll feel better if you run." You need someone like my wife.

and again I say Rejoice?

Lately I have a lot of stuff fumbling around in my mind while I run. I wanted to write about not being able to choose the right clothes to wear. Running with this semi-bald head, goatee, and mustache is a new experience for me. I wanted to write about the wreck I saw on Sunday. It bothered me. I wanted to write about overheating in the dead of winter. I wanted to write about how my wife made me get out of bed this morning when I didn't want to... but I can't. All I can think about is my need to rejoice in the midst of my pain.

I am not currently "in pain", I think. I have had very few times in my life when I truly knew I was suffering. Granted, I have probably had trials and tribulations during my brief 43 years on this planet, but most of the time I would not characterize those troubles as "suffering."

The most difficult period in my life was the death of my father. It was and is terrible. At first everything went on cruise control. Many things had to be taken care of, from hospital bills to vehicles, from lawyers to preachers. Just put on the business face and get it done. After the majority of the busy work was done reality set in. I became confused, I guess that's the best way to describe it. Cathy said I was often angry. I couldn't tell. What I could tell was that I cried a lot. I could not make decisions. How weird is that? Imagine going to a restaurant with your friends, staring at the menu and only seeing scrambled letters.... Choosing what to drink was a task. What should I wear today? No way would I ever dare to drive dad's truck.

What I remember most was my inability to stay in a worship service. The last thing I wanted to do was sing, "You give and take away, my heart will choose to say, Blessed be the name of the Lord." I hated that song. "This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it." Are you serious? Be glad? One Sunday I just got up and left. I couldn't sit in the sanctuary for one more minute. It's not that I didn't believe in God. It's not that I didn't believe in his love for me. It's that I didn't want to talk to him. And I definitely didn't want to praise him. Does that make me a bad person? Does that mean I'm not a Christian? Does that mean that God doesn't care about me anymore?

I believe that God understands. I also believe that I missed a great chance, an opportunity to see God work in a new way. God inhabits the praise of his people, at least that's what the bible says. That means that when we praise God, we experience his presence in a new and more intimate way. I was so ticked off at God that I could not bring myself to praise him. By doing that, I kept him from helping me when I needed him the most. That's easy to see and say now.

As I run all I can think about is the people in my life that are in their "midnight hour". My friends going through divorce, my friends in court, my friends enduring sickness, my friends unable to pay their bills, my friends.... How do I explain this to them? I can't. The last thing I wanted to hear was, "Just praise the Lord and this will all work out to his glory." I would have punched you. I knew that deep down, but didn't want to be reminded of it. I will praise God for them. When I run, I will praise God for how me raised me up and claim that for them. But I won't stop there. Anyone can do that. I will also be active in their lives. I will bring God to them, if they can't ask him to come themselves.

I never knew running would be a mission field. Repeat after me, in between gasps of air..."Rejoice in the (breathe) Lord always and (breathe)again I say rejoice(breathe).

Turn up the Speed

Wow. I thought I would die. So, yes that is a hyperbole. Not die...just be put on life support in the ICU.

A "Tempo Run" goes a little like this. You run a mile at your normal best pace. For me that would be a 10 minute mile (6mph). After that mile you run 3 miles at a much faster pace...almost too fast. For me that would be 8:52 mile (7mph). Then you finish your run with another mile at your normal pace.

The first mile went great, then I turned up the speed. I thought my heart would beat out of my chest. My breathing became quick. I watched the treadmill....1.26mls...1.38mls....1.61mls... Would this ever end? There is no way I can keep up this pace for 3 miles. My chest hurts. Is that normal? Am I having a heart attack? I can barely breathe. My side hurts. Maybe I should quit. No you must go on. The whole purpose of this tempo run is to train my body to withstand quicker paces at a longer distance. If I can keep this up, when I run the half marathon in 14 weeks, I will be faster and stronger. But right now, I think I am going to die on this treadmill. Wouldn't it be easier just to keep things the same? I know that I can run a race training the old way. Granted I wouldn't get faster but I would be able to breathe. I wouldn't get stronger but my heart would stay in my chest. I wouldn't get better.

I have learned that you can't do the same thing and expect to get better. I should want to improve. I do want to improve. I have also learned that you can't stay where you are and go with God. I should want to go with God. I do want to go with God. He wants me to be stretched. He wants me to learn more, do more, experience more. He wants me to run so hard that I almost lose my breathe. He wants me to step out further on that limb till my heart starts to beat out of my chest. He wants me to not give up, but to push it to the limit in every aspect of my life. Only then can I really glorify him because only then do I truly rely on him. Only then can I run my best race.

Right now I hate Tempo runs. They hurt. The end of April, I will be thankful for them. They make me stronger. They make me faster. They make me better. Go ahead God...turn up the speed.

Time to get Serious

Today begins my training for a couple of half-marathons at the end of April, beginning of May. Fifteen weeks to get in shape and prepare. Usually I train for a full marathon, but thought I would do a couple halves in the spring and try a full in the fall. This morning the weather was gross, light rain and chilly, so I decided to hop on the treadmill.

I turned on the TV and started watching the news while I tried to log 4 miles at 6mph. Then it happened. In the middle of..."Breaking news, overnight break-in", I felt compelled to get serious. Compelled to take this training to the next level. Stop just dabbling but really get to work. But not in running, in praying. I felt a call to pray.

I turned off the TV and began to get down to business.

I prayed for my wife, my children. I prayed for my pastoral staff. I prayed for my friends. I prayed for my work. I prayed for Haiti. I prayed for a group of Canadians. I prayed specific. Not just, "Dear God be with my children...blah, blah, blah." Specific. "God help Nate be a team player today. Bless Miriam's effort at school. Help Hannah today at musical practice to show others you. Help each of my kids realize that you are relevant. Relevant in academic team, relevant in dating, relevant". I prayed for our church. I continued to pray until my run was over.

How come I can set my mind to get up at 5am five days a week to run, but can't pry myself out of bed to talk to my creator and savior? I will push my body to the breaking point but wont open my eyes to read the word of God. I know that everyone has their moments when life makes it hard to talk to God...but I'm not everyone. I'm me. And it's time for me to pray with intent to see God move. It's time for me to read believing that my life depends on it.

It's time for me to train for real. It's time for me to get serious...and I'm going to do something about it.

Running in Haiti

Yes, I went to Haiti. I was hoping I could run there. I did get to run there, sort of.

Today was my first day running since returning from Haiti. I was out of the country with a team of 13 others from January 4 thru 12. This afternoon the people of that small island were all I could think of as I logged my three miles.

My new running gear that I got for Christmas would get their first real workout. New shoes, running tights, socks, and pants. As I started to appreciate the cushion feeling of my new Saucony's (shoes) the price tag for those babies flashed before my eyes. Yeah...running shoes are expensive. I started to tally up the cost of all the clothes I had on. $98+149+2+....... My entire wardrobe, new and used, is valued at over $400. That's not counting my iPhone. $400 is what the average Haitian makes in a year. The money that was spent on my running clothes would pay a man to work for 365 days.

Each of us paid about $900 to go on this trip. A chance to go and build houses for a group of people reeling from the earthquake and flooding would cost our group about $13,000. Does that make sense? That money would put 15 people to work for a year. This was a real struggle for me. The math did not add up.

Upon arriving in Haiti, we went through an orientation to prepare us for what was ahead. What I heard went something like this..."You thought you were coming to Haiti to build houses. If that were true, I would have asked you to send the money you spent on plane tickets and I could put a man to work for a year. You did not come to build houses. You came to bring hope." We were told that by two separate missionaries on two separate occasions. Bring hope. What does that look like?

It looks like "duck, duck, goose" when the children have no idea what you are saying. It looks like carrying five gallon buckets of water 1/3 of mile through cactus, over dry, rocky river bed. It looks like hauling concrete block on your head 1/4 of mile up hill. It looks like using a fan screen to sift rock out of the sand used in the mortar. It looks like paper airplanes, soccer balls, sharing tuna salad. It looks like drinking from the same water bottle. It looks like smiles, laughs, hugs, kisses. It looks like letting the girls braid your hair. It looks like showing the villagers that Jesus loves them and so do we.

Hope. We did not complete one house. We did help bring five houses closer to completion. What we really did was show the people in the village of Pasco that they have not been forgotten. We showed them that the white man does not think himself to good to help the Haitian. I hope we showed them Christ. Because in him their hope truly exists. In him our hope truly exists. Hope.

I only ran once in Haiti. I ran the path that we used to bring water. It wasn't long. It was treacherous. It was dangerous. It was what I had hoped to do. Hope.