The Fun of Being a Preacher

There are times when preaching is hard. Sermon preparation isn't always easy; sometimes a message just falls together, but most times, preparation is long and difficult. Prayer (it's hard waiting long enough to listen to God - that's why prayer has to to come first... and second... and third...), Bible study (you wouldn't believe how many things from my personal Bible study seem to apply 100% to what I'm going to preach), research (commentaries, other authors, etc) all go into sermon preparation. Then I shape the message, cutting material, re-organizing (over and over again), reading through it to make sure it's cohesive, and preparing a powerpoint presentation to go along with the message.

But there are just some things that one can't prepare for.

For example, this week during the message, I realized that a scripture I was going to read contained the word "hate."

We don't use that word in our house.

And my kids know it. And they know that rule well enough to correct other adults.

I approached the scripture, realizing that I was going to have to do something, because my kids were sitting in the front row. And they listen. And the scripture (John 15:18-21) contained the word "hate" multiple times.

I started reading the scripture, and I watched Andrew's eyes get big. "We don't say 'hate'!" he exclaimed. So I stopped and explained to him that he's right, we don't say "hate" but this was a case where it was in the Bible because Jesus knew how much people would dislike him. I was ready to give myself a "great dad/preacher" pat on the back, but then Andrew piped up in the kind of voice that only a preschooler would use during a church service.

"We don't say "stupid""

I continued in the message, somewhat embarrassed, trying to just go on with my thought. But Andrew wasn't finished yet.

"We don't say poopiehead!"

Yes, he managed to include all of his "bad words" in front of the whole 9:00 church service. At this, I couldn't contain the laugh. I busted out laughing and said, "I love being a dad." Everyone who heard him was laughing, too. He loved it. I did, too. Yes, it was distracting. No, he doesn't do that every week. Yes, Tara quieted him down quickly and I continued with the message.

The kid is definitely my son, isn't he?

Reflecting Back on 2010

I honestly haven't talked to anyone who told me that they would miss 2010.  Many of my friends really struggled over the course of the year and all of them were ready to turn the page from 2010 to the new possibilities of 2011.  I find myself optimistically joining them, all the while remembering that while we only get to celebrate a new year once a year, God's mercies are new every morning.

Reflecting back on the year that was, I have to acknowledge some highlights.  During Lent, I undertook a challenge to read the entire Bible.  I had read the whole Bible in a year, but this was time I was reading it in forty days!  It was challenging, but it was absolutely worth it.  I read, I listened to it on my iPod.  I was always in the scriptures, reading around thirty chapters every day. There were times I struggled through (and I found that I paid better attention to some genres by listening to them, while others were better read).  I most enjoyed the connection of reading the Bible in its entirety - how many Old Testament references had I never gotten or understood when reading the New Testament (because I hadn't just read them)?  This was one of the best challenges I have done.

Following this wonderful challenge was the best vacation my family has ever taken.  After Easter, we took off for Florida for a three week vacation (I blogged about the trip here, here, and here).  It was great to relax (we had no agenda and the only time we even paid attention to the time was on Sundays when we wanted to make it to church).  I was a little worried how life would be for the kids without toys and how life would be for all of us sharing a tent... and it was great.  We came back recharged and rejuvenated. 

The Summer of 2010 was unlike any summer we have experienced.  Just before the 4th of July, we brought two foster sons into our house.  They stayed four months, and it was difficult.  God tells His people to seek out the least and the lost, to care for the orphan and the widow, which sounds all well and good, but in practice it is difficult.  Especially when the orphan has been abused and neglected.  It was great to see some fantastic members of our church step up and help take care of them, to invite them to sit with them on Sunday mornings, to pray with us and for us, even coming to our house and praying against the generational curses that plagued these little boys.  We were glad to see them come a long, long way in those four months.  They've still got a long way to go, and their new foster parents (which will hopefully be their adoptive parents) need your prayers as well.

This August marked my 20 year high school reunion.  In one way it doesn't seem like it has been 20 years since I graduated high school, but in another way, it was completely another world ago. I didn't recognize more people than I did recognize (why did all those old people come to my reunion anyway).  I was glad I went, but the next time I'd probably rather call up the friends I went to school with and have an informal get-together instead of going to a bar.

After my last marathon I had decided I was content to have run two - I would focus on shorter distances.  I had enjoyed running 5K races and half marathons, tossing in some long runs, but not having any desire to run more.  But this summer, largely because of the motivation I received from my new friends on Dailymile, I got the bug again.  In October I ran the Columbus Marathon, smashing my old personal record by 38 minutes!  I even ended up having my picture being the main picture on the Columbus marathon website!

After the two boys left our home and our family went back to a family of four, we decided we needed another break together.  We took (most of) a week and went to Tennessee.  We stayed in a fantastic cabin up in the mountains (with a really scary driveway, which I mastered after three days).  The cabin had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a really cool spiral stairway, and an outdoor hot tub!  We loved hiking (our boys made it all the way up to the top of the Chimney Tops despite the ice and snow). Gatlinburg had a fantastic Christmas parade, and the trip was amazing.

December came, and with it came our new foster baby.  But unlike all of the other foster kids we've had, when we've only had an hour to prepare our house for them, he's in the NICU and didn't make it home in 2010 (so he'll probably make my "highlights of 2011" blog).

In many ways it was a challenging year, but God is good and His mercies are new every morning!

The Waiting Game

Anyone who has had a baby in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) knows the waiting game.  The first question is always "when can I take my baby home?"  It seems pretty common for "them" to tell a parent of a preemie "we want to keep him until his due date" so the waiting game begins.

Not only do we get to wait, but we get to drive back and forth to the hospital.  And get to know the wonderful, compassionate nurses who work in the NICU.  And the check-out folks in the cafeteria.

Then they give some good news: when the baby gets to (insert milestone here), we'll start the release procedure. A good thing to remember when you hear this is that this doesn't mean the baby gets to go home whenever he reaches that milestone; that's just when the procedure begins, after which the baby goes home.

The procedure includes them showing the parents a video about shaken baby syndrome (lesson learned: don't ever, ever, ever shake a baby. it's not even funny to joke about).  We get re-trained in CPR (all the rules are different these days).  They make sure Peanut will fit in the car seat (and if he won't, they issue a new one - that's right, issue. That means they give us one).

Then the doctor has to check him out one more time and he can go home after the paperwork is done.  Which might take longer than thought, as (in our case) paperwork has to be done by the caseworker as well. And if the baby has had any other issues, those can hold up the release, triggering... more waiting...

The good news is that Peanut's nasal feeding tube is out and he's gaining weight.  The bad news is he had an "episode" last night - nothing to be alarmed at, but they want to make sure that he's out of the woods.

This is all the long, roundabout way of saying that our little guy isn't home yet; maybe tomorrow?

How Far I've Come

Today I would call this "overdressing"

A few years ago, I trained for a spring race, and I mostly trained indoors at the YMCA.  One Saturday I managed to miss the (shortened) hours, and I needed to get a 4 miler in, so I bundled up and went outside for a run.

I wore my wind pants, warmest shirt, vest, hat, and gloves and went out for a run.  The weather was rather nasty; snow spitting and accumulating a little. The funny thing was I was so proud of myself for running in that weather that I took a picture after the run.

A few years later (and after a full winter of training outside), here are my thoughts.  First, I'm embarrassed at how warmly I dressed for this run.  I would never wear those wind pants anymore for a run; they're way too hot.  Likewise for the shirt and the vest; that particular shirt is only good for extremely cold temperatures. I would wear it if the temperature was under 20* and windy. 

Today I would definitely run in that weather without a doubt.  And if the weather was too bad, I would just not worry about it; it was only four miles, after all.  I can't believe that a four miler gave me any pause whatsoever; it's less than any workout I'm even willing to suit up for!

Whatever You Do For the Least of These...

It started with someone getting a little crazy.  There was a sale, and they thought, "We should get some of this for the food pantry."  They got a lot.  Too much to even put away. And some hams and potatoes and bread. So the question arose: How do we get all this food out before it goes bad?

You see, our food pantry has operated as an "emergency" pantry, serving mostly drop-in clients, and we've had a quarterly limit - you can only come once every three months.  But if we waited that long, this food would have gone bad.  So our church secretary made some calls, and a cell group stepped up and offered to staff the pantry for a special night.

Several families said they didn't know where they would get food for their Christmas dinner, that they were praying that God would provide food for them, and then they got a call from the church, inviting them to come. And they did.  The cell group reported that 60 people came that evening and were given food.  Lots of it.  And several others came the next day as well.

It was amazing to watch God provide the miracle that these people had prayed for - through the actions of some who thought "an emergency food pantry isn't enough" and who thought "I could pick up some of this for the food pantry" and a cell group who decided to change their meeting to give the food out and a secretary who gets to know the food pantry clients (and prays with each of them) and who generously called each one and invited them to come and take food, without charge.

Sometimes I tend to get cynical about people.  But then there are people like these who embody Christlikeness.

Could This Be the One?

Or... Wait and See

Even before we were married, Tara and I talked about adoption.  Our eventual wish was to adopt children.  After a lot of prayer and conversations, we determined that we would attempt to adopt domestically, rather than overseas (note that this was what we felt like we needed to do; we don't have anything against those who adopt from overseas), so we went through our county training to be foster/adoptive parents.  Our adoption of Andrew was a private adoption (we hadn't necessarily planned that, but it was how God worked it out).  Through all of it, we only once got a call to foster (and it was a placement that wasn't right for us).

August 2009 we got the call to be foster parents for Baby J. We thought this placement would lead to adoption, but the information we got wasn't the full story, and his birth parents did everything they could to get him back.  We got a great opportunity to give him a good start, and though we were sad to have to "give him back" (and we still miss him) we were fine with it.  The system worked like it was supposed to.  Especially for Baby J's parents.

 Then in June 2010, we got another call, this time to foster (and hopefully adopt?) Jesse & Nathan.  The agency already had permanent custody of them and they were looking for a forever family.  After having them for a while, we realized that we couldn't give them the on-going care they needed, all the while, giving our other kids the level of support and concern they need.  The other thing was that their ages were too close to our other kids' ages, and poor Andrew often got the worst of the whole deal. We got to pass their care on to another couple who now is able to give them the attention they need, and we continue to pray for them (parents as well as the kids).

After that placement, we revised the age limits of children we would accept.  We decided we needed a solid break from toddlers, but we would take a baby.  So when another call came in (only a week after we'd cleaned house), asking if we'd take a baby and a 3 year old, we declined.  But when we got a call this week, asking if we'd take a tiny baby boy, we agreed. 

So last night we got to go to the hospital and meet Baby JT.  He was born on December 3, probably about 1 1/2 months premature.  He's a little under 4 pounds, and it was love at first sight.  He is a precious little peanut, as cute as can be.

We understand how the system works; we know that we may or may not get to keep him (keep him? we can't even take him home from the NICU yet! - they're saying probably not until after Christmas), but we're going to get to love him as long as we have him.

Which is the deal we've made with God on our kids in general.  We don't consider any of them "ours" to keep; they're God's, and we just get to "borrow" them from Him for a while - as long as He lets us.

Power Outage!

Have you ever had a power outage?   What a reminder of how much we rely on electricity!  Yesterday, just into our 11:00 church service, the power flickered several times and then went out.  That meant no microphones, no projector, no PowerPoint, no amplification for guitars (or the electronic drum set). I realized that we rely a lot on electricity!

For example, as a congregation, we don't necessarily have all of the praise songs memorized.  We don't necessarily have to worry about memorizing, because they lyrics are on the screen.  Except for when there isn't electricity to power the projector.

But honestly, besides not getting to audio-record my sermon, it wasn't a problem.  Sure, it changed things; the band did an acoustic set (including using the "box" instead of drum set, unplugging guitars, violin accompaniment (good thing Tara had her violin there after playing special music during the 9:00 service), and different songs from the hymnal), and I had to speak a little louder than usual, but even without electricity, the atmosphere was electric. 

One unexpected bonus was that Rudy "asked" everyone to move forward - conserving heat, voices carrying, etc., and that made for a closer experience, a "together" experience, if you will.  I came down off the platform to speak, because there was better lighting down on the floor, and that worked out well, too.


All in all, it was a great time of worship, and a little power outage didn't dampen the Spirit at all.

Christmas Parade

Millersport puts on a nice Christmas parade, but wow, Gatlinburg's Christmas parade was something else.  We headed down the mountain around 3:30 and found somewhere to park (we found a really good spot, it turned out, as we were able to buzz straight out after the parade).  Then we walked up and down the "downtown" Gatlinburg area for a while, checked out a fun craft show (indoor), and staked out "our spot."  We found that many people set their chairs out the night before to stake their claim for parade-watching, but we (a) didn't have chairs; and (b) we didn't have chairs.  But we did have a blanket, and Tara found us a great spot by a trash can and a light post.  "Great" because it was a spot by the road and because we had something to lean on and because the odor from the garbage can was drifting the other way.  AND because the people next to us had two little boys, aged 7 and 5, with whom Jonathan and Andrew had a blast before the parade.

The parade itself was a lot of fun.  Not much candy, but I did manage to get hit on the head by a bag of M&Ms (when I was changing batteries on the camera) :-)  The temperature dropped while we were out there, but we dressed warmly - in many, many layers, and we bought hand warmers. 

Pictures will follow...

Just What the Doctor Ordered

After a long several months with four kids and quite a bit of personal stress, our family got to take a vacation.  We found a cabin in the mountains near Gatlinburg, TN, and rented it for a week of family time.  It was wonderful.  The Christmas lights are up and beautiful, and the Great Smoky Mountains are as fantastic as ever. 

I remember going to the Smoky Mountains as a kid - it was a lot of fun.  My parents even gave in to our persistence and allowed us to go (throw our money away at) a roadside attraction (where we met a girl whose southern accent baffled us - we were only familiar with the Kokomo accent - you know, the one where "wash" gains an r and short e sounds identical to short i).  I remember seeing a bear... or perhaps thinking I saw a bear and then being too embarrassed when it wasn't really a bear that I stuck to my guns and held to the story...

I have always loved being in the Smoky Mountains.  It has always captured my imagination.

So it was great allowing our kids to explore and play in the mountains.  Seeing them walk on the trail, playing together, bonding with one another, running, chasing, exploring - was well worth the trip.

Latest Adventure

I didn't post much about our most recent adventure in foster parenting because I didn't think it would be prudent; first of all, the birth family could read about the boys or see their picture and figure out where they were, and secondly, because it was tough going (and I didn't end up blogging much during those four months partially because of that).  It was tough having four boys, age 6 and under, especially with what J&N had suffered through before they came to our house.

I learned a lot about myself, about others, about spiritual warfare, and about the "system" in the process.

About myself... in Brother Lawrence's The Practice of the Presence of God, he expresses surprise not in the fact that humans can be so horrendously evil, but in the fact that we're often not.  During the last four months, I came to understand how (often foster) parents can do horrible things.  Not that I ever condone doing evil to a child (or anyone else), but I began to understand how someone could.  But there were many times when I was stretched way too thin.  I was glad to have my "out" - running - where I could get away and reorient myself toward God.

I already knew that there are people who understand "different" kids and people who don't, but I didn't know how much that would show up.  There were some people who I frankly didn't know very well who stepped up tremendously to help out with the boys, especially during church.  Church was a difficult time, because for a while the nursery was not staffed during the early service, (and since both boys have attachment issues, we felt that it was important to keep them with us)... so the boys were in worship... not a big deal, as we always keep our other two in that service... except that J&N had never experienced church before.  Or positive discipline.  Or sitting still.  And so they screamed through the first few services.  Some people just got annoyed and complained.

But there were several others who stepped up and helped.  Tremendously.  They were awesome.

I learned more about spiritual warfare than I ever thought possible, and I'm still learning.  These boys were victims of generational curses - something they never chose for themselves.  Their parents, grandparents - who knows how many generations - were filled with the evil they had inherited and they had chosen.  When J&N first came into our house, they were saturated with those curses. They were tortured little boys.  Happily, and thanks to a lot of prayer, when they left our house, though they still have issues, they were no longer the same tortured little boys.

I was reminded of the system, which doesn't necessarily exist to do the best thing; it sometimes exists to do the cheap thing or the expedient thing.  This isn't a slam on the case workers; I've found that the social workers are one of two things: they are either so jaded and cynical that you wonder why they're still in it; or they're idealistic people who want to help... and they're buried alive with too many cases for one person to adequately handle.  Unfortunately it ends up that lies, misinformation, and lack of communication are the order of the day.

I understand that God calls His people to care for orphans and widows, but with my experience (and the experience I've watched others go through), it does take a special calling to be a foster parent.  It's definitely not for everyone.  If God is calling you to do it, then do it with gusto.  But if God is not calling you to it (and be sure to discern the difference; don't just say God isn't if you haven't taken time to listen), then find other ways to care for the orphan and widow in your community.

Remembering

A year and a half ago, I got word that my friend Chad Max Miller and his brother Chris had died in a kayak accident.  His death remains a solid reminder of the brevity of life, of the words from James: You are a mist that appears for a little while then vanishes.

I know James' intent was to remind his listeners that life is short, that we can't count on tomorrow.  But I wonder if that mist really vanishes?  That might be one of our greatest fears - the fear of being forgotten, of leaving no legacy. And certainly it's something that those of us left here struggle with; does anyone remember our loved one? Do they still tell the stories?

I remember Chad every day.  In fact, it's still hard to believe he's gone. As I remember him, what sticks out is his character. Well, besides the anecdotes I could tell about funny shared events and good times we had.  I remember how generous he was and how authentic he was.  He didn't do things because they looked good; he did things because they were good.  He was a hard worker because it was right to work hard.  He played hard because it was fun to play hard.  He helped people because they needed help.

It makes me think about my own life and mortality and the legacy I will leave. When I went to my high school reunion, there were all kinds of people I didn't remember and I wondered why they remembered me.  What had I done that merited remembering? 

Sometimes I find that motivating.  But I'm usually just walking, one step at a time, as if life weren't a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.

After the Columbus Marathon: Some Thoughts Two Days Later

I loved the corral system.  It was so helpful to not have to dig my way through walkers and slow runners - just to hit my pace immediately upon starting the race.  I've never experienced that in a marathon before.

The in-course entertainment was quite varied - it was hard to get hyped up for someone playing Van Morrison on an acoustic guitar, but I was pretty impressed (very impressed, even) at some of the bands playing.  It was 7:30, 7:45am on a SUNDAY, and they were bringing it. Especially that funk group on Broad Street.  Amazing.

One thing that made the marathon special for me was having friends there.  I had a great time running with Matt Schreiber - we ran together twice in 2006: the Hocking Hills Indian Run 40K and the Columbus Marathon.  I've kept up with him via facebook and dailymile, but I hadn't seen him in ages.  Of course, Matt's brother Mike and Speedy Rob Turner were miles ahead of us.

And then there was the dailymile crowd.  I have been so encouraged and motivated by being a part of a running "club" even though most of the interaction is online.  It was super cool to meet up for a Run DMC (DailyMile Columbus) pasta party the night before the race, to put faces with names and to meet some really fast runners and some first-time marathoners.  Then meeting up with the gang before the race was great.  It took away some of the before-race anxiety.

Then there was the cool picture that ended up on the marathon website - you might be able to tell how strong I felt and how happy I was at the time the picture was taken.  It was probably between miles 14 and 15 - I was feeling strong; I'd just run a PR for the 1/2 marathon, and things looked good.

About the race...
I have got to learn to take off more slowly.  I knew better.  Honestly, I did.  I set a target time of 8:12 miles.  But I took off too fast - partly because it felt good and partly because I thought that maybe I could run faster than my goal time.  My stretch goal time, at that.  There's really just one word to describe that way of thinking: not smart.  I trained toward a certain goal, and to second-guess that goal while running (in the first 20 miles) wasn't a smart move at all.  Adjusting a goal (faster) during the last 6 miles... maybe.  Not so much during the first 1/2.

I felt like I remembered runners being friendlier on the course than I experienced Sunday.  Yes, I ended up meeting a couple of people (Chris, originally from Zanesville and Tracy, the teacher from Gahanna), but I remembered runners being more chatty and more encouraging. In fact, I don't remember as much encouragement - not from the sidelines, nor from other runners.  During the race, besides Matt, with whom I was running for many of the first miles, I only saw one familiar face, my dailymile friend, Brett L.

I didn't realize that the course had changed, so once we passed the 1/2, I was lost.  I lost all frame of reference, which stunk.  Upper Arlington, Grandview Heights... it was all the same.  People out watching, not necessarily cheering, low-key music... I was wishing I'd worn my iPod so I could listen to some hard-charging music.

At this point I was doing everything I could to keep going, so maybe it wouldn't have made a difference to have had the streets packed with friends and family cheering my name.  Or maybe it would have.

As I approached the finish line, I tried to speed up.  I don't think I was successful.  In fact, I'll bet my last couple of miles were stronger in 2006, when I ran a 4:26.  It sure felt like it.  I couldn't even psych myself into the "only 4 more miles to go" thoughts.  I was trying to compare the distance left to one of my easy runs here in Millersport, but it didn't work.  Yes, I did catch one person down the stretch.  And I did hold off all challengers on the way down the hill to the finish line.  But that was all I had.

After the race, I wandered around, looking for one of those space-blanket thingies.  I was freezing, but I couldn't find them.  And I couldn't find anyone to show me where they might be.  The only "official" people I could find were the photographers, one of whom snapped a horrible picture of me, one in which I look halfway dead, and the girl with the chocolate milk.  I never thought I'd like chocolate milk post-race, but it hit the spot.

I also couldn't find the Krispy-Kremes.  I heard rumors they were giving them out, but either they'd run out, or I just couldn't find them.  Maybe they were with the space blankets.  At least there was still other food, not like I felt hungry at the time.  One of my friends reported that it was gone by the time he finished.

There was a band playing Green Day tunes really loudly on a stage.  They sounded pretty good - but too loud for me at that moment.  But all I wanted was to sit down and rest my legs. Then we headed home.  Rob dropped me off at my car, and it took all my concentration to make it home.  I was cold, so I didn't want to put my windows down, but I smelled so bad, I couldn't stand to be in the closed up car!

When I got home, I was wondering what kind of fool runs marathons.

But two days later, I'm thinking about my race strategy and how I can convince myself to run more slowly so I possibly have more in the tank for miles 21-26.2

Columbus Marathon Race Report, take 2.

Back in October, 2006, I ran my first marathon, the Columbus Marathon. My goal was to finish, which I did (barely?) after a couple of costly mistakes and a lot of walking toward the end.  The next April, I ran the Kentucky Derby Festival Marathon in Louisville (again, with a goal of finishing), after which I swore I was done with marathoning. But this spring, due mostly to dailymile, I got the bug again.

So I returned to the site of my first-ever marathon.  This time, instead of "just" finishing the marathon, I set a time goal.  Actually I set two goals.  My first goal was a "stretch" goal - to finish in 3:34.  My secondary goal was 3:40. That might not mean anything to you without this information: my personal record (PR) for the marathon was 4:17:59.  Meaning I wasn't just aiming to beat my PR; I was aiming to smash it.

The morning started beautifully; not too cold, actually really nice for a run. This year they instituted a corral system, based on qualifying, where the faster runners started toward the front, which was excellent.  Instead of walking for a block and a half to the start line and then trying to pick my way through gobs of slow traffic, I was able to start close to the start line and immediately run.

I was happy to run with my friend Matt (pictured in the "I ran my first marathon" pictures linked above, wearing the maroon sweatshirt) for many of the early miles, but unfortunately I felt too good and went out way too fast.  My target time was 8:12/mile, but I found myself in the high 7's.  Which would have been fine for a 1/2 marathon, but not for the full.

I left Matt and started running with his friend, Chris, who I met on the course, but eventually Chris dropped off (maybe he was doing the 1/2?) so I ran for a while with a teacher from Gahanna (my former stomping grounds).  My pace started dropping around the 1/2 way point, but now they were in my realistic range.  I stayed that way until around somewhere in the 18 mile range, where I started to fade.  My times started to suffer, and got worse as the race went on. 

I continued to think the 3:34 was within range until the 3:30 pace group caught me and quickly left me in the dust. By this time, my pace had slowed to a 10 minute mile crawl.  My calves and hamstrings were screaming and it was all I could do to keep from walking.  My mind was playing games by this time, and I wasn't going to let it do the "just walk through the water stop" game - because I didn't know if I'd start running again! 

As I closed in on the finish, I wondered if I would ever reach the end of the race.  I missed a mile marker in there, so it seemed like I was on mile 23 forever!  I kept being passed (possibly by runners who had run a smarter race and not gone out 30 seconds/mile faster than their target) - my race results indicated that after mile 20, I passed 34 runners... but was passed by 134.

I shuffled across the finish line in 3:40.09, right on my "secondary" goal time - a PR by 38 minutes! 

Throwing a Taper Tantrum

Through the past 16 weeks, I have been in marathon training mode. That meant pushing my distance up - I put in four twenty mile runs (along with my almost-daily nines).  Not only have I put in the distance, but I've ramped up the pace as well.  But as the marathon approaches, I have moved into taper mode.  And I'm not sure my body knows what to do with it!

I'm not the only one who has ended up dealing with knee issues. I'm hoping that it's nothing, but just to be safe, I visited my chiropractor (and will be back on Friday) for an adjustment. But I'm trying to figure out how to deal with the taper.  I didn't run today, and tomorrow's plan is 3 slow miles - mileage which my cross-country coach called "hardly worth getting your gear on."

My training has been good - I feel better prepared for this run than I have ever been - though the 7:30 start time is closer to my usual finish time for my training. I am looking forward to meeting some of the Run Dailymile Columbus runners for some pasta and for the race.  And I am looking forward to getting on the race course and seeing how well I do!  In the meantime, I'm throwing a bit of a taper tantrum.

Top 25

I wonder what the top 25 most played songs on my iPod say about me...

Here they are:
25: Rain in the Summertime: the Alarm
24: Hot for Teacher: Van Halen
23: Beautiful Scandalous Night: Robbie Seay Band
22: Blitzkrieg Bop: the Ramones
21: Hungry: Kathryn Scott

20: Under the Milky Way: the Church
19: How Great Thou Art: Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir
18: Can't Go Back: Robbie Seay Band
17: Eternal One: Robbie Seay Band
16: (don't go back to) Rockville: R.E.M.

15: Unfailing Love: Chris Tomlin/Steven Curtis Chapman
14: Soon and Very Soon: Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir
13: Be Glad: Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir
12: Ring of Fire: Social Distortion
11: Love Wins: Robbie Seay Band

10: Head On: the Jesus and Mary Chain
9: Darklands: the Jesus and Mary Chain
8: Rainbow in the Dark: Dio
7: The Hallelujah Chorus: Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir
6: Lick it Up: Kiss

5: Pretty in Pink: the Psychedelic Furs
4: Been Caught Stealing: Jane's Addiction
3: Bring on the Dancing Horses: Echo and the Bunnymen
2: Take the Skinheads Bowling: Camper van Beethoven
1: Living After Midnight: Judas Priest

Why Do I Run?

I love my running time.  I love starting my day before dawn, seeing the light of the sun shining like Prevenient Grace, coming well before the sun rises.  I love the pound of my feet on the ground, especially when I get to run on a trail.  I love the quiet time with God. I love starting my day with Him. 

That's why I run.  What do you love to do?

Better Than Winning My Age Group

I think I've won my age group twice. I really only remember once. It was in a winter 5K cross country race (not the road race I'd been expecting). For winning, I got a really cool blue blown glass Christmas ornament as a prize.  It still has the little paper tag to tell me that it was for first place in my age group - not that I need the reminder. 

The reminder that there were two of us in the age group, and the other guy had possibly never run a 5K before.

Anyway, I almost won my age group at the Sweet Corn Festival 5K.  I would have won it had I run it.  Let me explain: I did run it.  Twice that morning. I went out early and ran the course as fast as I could, and finished in (my PR) 19:27.  Which, as I look at the results, would have gotten me first in my age group.

But I didn't run it that fast with everyone else. Instead, I ran it with my son, Jonathan.  You'll need to go to the second-to-last page to find our finishing time, but believe me when I say that running the race with my 6 year old son, who ran or walked the entire 3.1 miles without stopping, was better than winning my age group.  For an age group win, I would have gotten a medal, which would have found a home in a drawer.  Running with Jonathan gives me a fantastic memory that will last a lifetime.

Hard

God never told us life would be easy.  In fact, Jesus said, "In this world you will have trouble." (John 16:33b) But The LORD is good, a refuge in times of trouble. He cares for those who trust in him. (Nahum 1:7). This is why Jesus went on (in John 16:33) to say "But take heart! I have overcome the world."

Life is hard.  But God is good.

Serving Others

Back in January, in a sermon, I referenced a story Mike Yaconelli told in his book Dangerous Wonder. In this book, he told this story.

Our town is small by California standards – one traffic light and six thousand residents.  One Sunday morning I was preaching about the unconditional love of God, a love that was outside the lines and resulted in the church loving outside the lines.  Our church is different from most; the congregation feels free to interrupt me during my sermons.  Just as I was finishing, a sixteen year old girl said, “This is a good sermon, Pastor, but I was thinking that if we are supposed to love outside the lines, then I know how we can do it.  In three weeks the Siskiyou County Fair is coming, and with the fair come the ‘carnies.’” (The “carnies are itinerant workers who operate the rides of the traveling carnival.  Every year the carnies are the talk of our rural town.  Most of them are tough-looking and scary with lots of tattoos, huge muscles, and hard-looking faces.  People always make derogatory comments about them.)

The high school girl continued, “I was thinking that instead of making fun of the carnies, maybe we should have a dinner and welcome them to town.”

The church agreed, and this young girl organized the entire event.  She called the manager of the fair for permission, called the owner of the carnival to see if they would want a dinner.  The carnival owner suggested a lunch just before the fair opened.  “Okay,” said the girl, “We will barbeque hamburgers and cheeseburgers and have salads, desserts, and soft drinks. All you can eat.  How many can we expect?” After some thought, the owner said to expect fifty. 

The day of the lunch about twenty people from the church showed up to help serve. There was enough food for seventy. At twelve-thirty when the lunch was to begin, only four carnies showed up. By one-thirty, however we hadn’t served 50 carnies, or 75 carnies, or even 150 carnies.  We had served 200 carnies. When it looked like we would run out of food, the young girl came running up to me, the pastor , and said, “We’re running out of food.  GET SOME!” We did.

When the lunch was over, numerous carnies came up to the young girl and thanked her.  One older lady who had been working carnivals for a long time said, “I have been doing carnivals for forty years, and this is the first time I’ve been welcomed to town.” The all-you-can-eat carnie lunch has been going for seven years now, all because a teenage girl was naïve enough to believe God loved a group of carnies as much as He loved her. (Mike Yaconelli: Dangerous Wonder, NavPress. 1998.)

Some members of the congregation heard this story and it stuck with them.  The gears began turning, and they decided, "Hey, we have a festival here in Millersport... and they employ people to work the concessions and rides... we could have a meal for them, too!"

So today was the day when we served them... and it was fantastic!  We served lasagna, bread, salad, cake, and ice cream, and it was great.  I got to greet them and say a blessing - we welcomed them to town and thanked them for serving us, because we love our Sweet Corn Festival, and without the rides and concessions it just wouldn't be the same. 

I found out a lot about the people who worked the rides.  Several of them were from Turkey, Ukraine, and Russia - they were university students who came here to work for the summer before going back to school.  The entire group wasn't your stereotypical "carnies" - they were clean, appreciative, and no more tattooed than the rest of society.  And they really appreciated the welcome they got to Millersport from the church.

Best yet: everyone who served was extremely excited to serve and wants to make it an annual event.

Running With the Boy

Ever since I can remember, I wanted to run.  My family would drive past the local middle school and would dream about running on the cinder track there - but I never actually asked my parents, "Could we stop so I could run on that track?" It wasn't until I was actually in middle school that I got to run there... and I loved it.

A couple of years ago, my oldest son, Jonathan, decided he wanted to run a 5K with daddy.  So we worked it out this way: I ran the race at my pace and then came back and caught up with Jonathan and Tara (who was also pushing barely-2-year-old Andrew in a stroller).  Jonathan had run at a sprint to start, but he needed some motivation... and having Dad there helped him.  We were the last ones to finish, but if you ask Jonathan, he'll tell you, "I ran a 5K... and I won!"  Maybe he was remembering going up with me for my age group award.

Last year it just didn't work for the family to run the race (with Baby J less than 1 month old), which was disappointing, as the "under 11" age group was wide open.

This year, Jonathan wants to run the race again.  And we've been preparing.  He knows the strategy: don't run too fast, and if you need to walk, just go ahead and walk, but keep going.  I told him I would bring water so he can have a drink whenever he wants one. We've been out on training runs together, and he's excited about the race.  Last week we went on our bikes to see the race course - and although he's only been riding a two-wheeler for a week or two, he was up for the whole thing.  And more.

We'll see how things go on Saturday.