Men, Motorcycles, and Mountains

Inspiration comes in the strangest ways.  I'm often inspired by a beautiful sunrise or sunset, a classic work of art, a book that I've picked up.  As a runner, inspiration goes hand in hand with motivation, and most of the time my inspiration is that 26.2 miles won't run themselves and November 6 looms large.

The Men 

This weekend, though, I was inspired by a group of 8 men, a mountain, and a motorcycle.  My husband, Gary, has been an Enduro dirt bike racer for a number of years now.  He loves it, he has fun with it, and even though he'll say it's not true, he's pretty fast for an old dude.  (He'll deny the fast part, not the old dude part).  A few months ago, he was asked to be part of a six man racing team that would participate in a 24 hour dirt bike race through the woods of Perry Mountain, Alabama.  This team would be an outreach arm of a ministry run by Pastor Gasper "Doty" Pizzolato and his wife Gracie and is called Team M.O.R.E. (Motorcycle Out Reach Evangelism).

Let me stop here and say a word about Doty and his beautiful wife.  They are an inspiration in themselves. Doty is a lay preacher who spends his weekends during race season in the woods, ministering to fellow dirt bike enthusiasts.  He offers a church service on Saturday nights and brings a fresh word from God each time he stands before the men (and their families) who come to hear him speak.  He is very dedicated to this ministry, I've seen him show up at a race in a rental car because his truck broke down on the 6 hour trip, or have to rent a motel room because his camper broke down on the way to the race.  Did I mention that this is an unpaid position?  Doty does this because God has called him to it.  He and Gracie head up Team M.O.R.E. which is a non-profit organization that raises money to purchase motorcycles for missionaries all over the world.  I'll post a link later this week where you can learn more about Team M.O.R.E. and how you can be a part of reaching others for Christ, two wheels at a time.  I really enjoyed getting to know Doty and Gracie a little better this weekend.

The Mountain

Back to the mountain.  I went with Gary, not really knowing what to expect.  Most of the time when I go to races with him, I enjoy a trail run, lots of quiet time (which I usually spend reading or writing), a grilled steak, and a nice weekend with my man.  This weekend would be different, I knew going in.  Gary and I are typically in bed by 9:30 (on a night when the Braves are playing) and up early.  I wasn't sure either one of us was up for an all-nighter.

The Machine

The Start (It was a little dusty) 

Teamwork

The race started at 10 am sharp Saturday morning.  At 10 am on a June morning in Alabama, it's hot.  Throw in no rain for a while, a mountain, and a slew of other men/women on bikes all jockeying to be first along the trail, and you've got yourself a race.  The men worked as a team, each rider doing two laps that took approximately an hour, then coming in to pit row for a gas refill, bike check, new rider.  This went on through the heat of a June afternoon (temps reached 103 by some accounts).  Doty and Bobby were support, the riders were Manny, Jack, Erin, Benny, John, and Gary.  These are men from all walks of life, some coming from as far away as Texas to spend a long weekend raising money for the cause of Christ.  I was inspired by them as individuals who spent time, money, effort, and huge amounts of sweat to come together as a team and pull off this incredible feat of endurance.  By midnight, they were exhausted, overheated, and now riding a dusty, narrow, heavily traveled,  wooded trail on a dirt bike in the dark.  Shortly after midnight, we got the distressing news that we had a rider down.  Jack had wrecked and we spent a long half hour or so waiting to hear how badly hurt he was.  Turns out, he broke his collarbone badly and Doty transported him to a nearby hospital for x-rays.  This put us down a man and we lost a lap. We had another man who was resting to recover from a bad spill he had taken earlier in the evening.  The team was down from six to four men, but they stepped up and covered the time as best they could.  No rest for the weary.  Most of the men made do on a cat nap and a fervently lifted prayer.  They ended up taking fourth place, only a minute down from third, having made up the lost lap and bounced back from fifth right after the accident.  A true testament to team work!!

I ended up enjoying the weekend very much, making some new friends, and feeling like 26.2 miles will be nothing compared to that!

Team M.O.R.E.

¹ Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, ²fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. ³ Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.  Hebrews 12: 1-3  (Emphasis mine)

It Takes a Village

You know the saying.  "It takes a village to raise a child."  It was attributed to an old African proverb before a former first lady used it to title a book and stirred political controversy.  This isn't a post about politics, though.  It is a reflection on how it seems that it is going to take a village to get me to that NYC marathon finish line.

Fortunately, my village is well populated.  My doctors  (a Doctor of Osteopathy and a chiropractor) are also athletes and have been very helpful in diagnosing and alleviating my aches and pains, as well as helping me figure out the most valuable nutrition to keep me strong.  I've signed on with a clinic/workshop that will analyze my gait and help me with proper form.   My yoga teacher is doing her best to make me more flexible.  God love her.  She's young and enthusiastic.  She'll learn.  My massage therapist diligently works the concrete out of my IT band, even though she's mouthier about it than I would like.  Good thing she's my daughter or I wouldn't take her lip.  And I have to say she made me more aware of it and now I use my foam roller with more determination, which has really helped.  

All these professionals are certainly making my journey easier.  But, the most important villagers are the ones who are cheering me on.  First and foremost is my family, particularly my man who is always my loudest cheerleader and most faithful encourager.  My daughters inspire and encourage me, with words and lifestyles.  I also belong to a wonderful online community of runners called Daily Mile which has so many encouraging voices that it builds and sustains me, even on those off days.  I have friends who run, not as many as I would like, but they're getting there.  And, I'm constantly meeting people and find we have a running connection, which is always motivating.

The point here is that we need community around us.  People who believe in us and help us achieve our goals.  Those who push, inspire, encourage, motivate,  and lift us to up to be our very best.  People who tell us what we need to hear, even when we don't want to hear it.  Those who don't do those things need to take a backseat in our lives.  Not be cut out, but we need to tune out those voices so that we can hear the rhythm of our footsteps pounding along.  I'm very blessed that all those in my immediate circle are cheerleaders, not nay sayers.  Because along this journey, there will be doubt.  I've experienced it already.   I'm sure I will feel it again.

This journey is about so much more than a marathon.  Learning who I am in the face of adversity.  Becoming a problem solver about health/nutrition issues rather than following the "party line" of taking a pill to overcome.  Pushing myself to physical limits to become stronger makes me able to push my emotional/spiritual limits to become a better person.  Overcoming obstacles to achieve goals.  Learning the discipline that comes with goal setting.  Deciding what my limits are and when it's okay to push them.  All this and so much more is being pounded into my soul step by step.  

I'm so thankful for my village.  I know that He who has promised is faithful and that He will bring to me all that I need as I seek His perfect will in my life.

²³ Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. ²⁴ And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, ²⁵not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.
Hebrews 10: 23-25

Crescent City Classic: Lessons learned

Why is it that we learn lessons better the hard way?  I read, I listen to seasoned athletes, I solicit medical advice.  But, the lessons that stick with me are the ones that I learn from bad runs/races.  And, it seems I've had a lot of those lately.  Hmmm,  I guess God thinks I need some refining.

The race started well.  My favorite wingman was pacing me.  Gary and I and 22,000 of our closest friends packed into the narrow streets of Jackson Square and were heralded by The United States Marine Corp band, first with the national anthem, them an impromptu version of "The Saints Go Marching In."  Very inspirational.  I always put God in charge of my Ipod by putting the music mix on shuffle, and He never fails to play just what I need when I need it.  True to form, right after the Marine Corps Band played, Cece Winans sang "Amazing Grace",  then Jonah 33 belted out "This Is It" (a new favorite).  I was ready to roll.  Unfortunately, we were so far back in the crowd it took us over 12 minutes to get to the starting line after the starting cannon boomed.  No worries, the CCC is a chipped race now for everyone, so our time didn't start until we stepped across the start line.


The first mile was a maze of trying to jog through walkers and find my pace.  My wingman blazed a trail, though, and the pace stayed steady.  Mile two was still pretty congested and the heat and humidity started to work on me.  By mile three, I had to walk some. I was dizzy and a little queasy and I do know the signs of heat exhaustion, so I slowed down and grabbed some water at the Mile 3 water table.  

If you've never run a road race in New Orleans, you really need to.  The crowd support is fun and frenzied.  There is usually a table with free beer somewhere along the route if you're so inclined (I am not), and the Crescent City Classic is such a long established tradition that it brings out lots of crazy, kooky people and sights.  Mile 4 included a group of runners pulling a couple of coolers in wagons that contained frozen jello shots which they threw into the crowd of runners at various intervals.  Again, not really into alcohol on a run, but I did entertain the thought of snagging one to put in my clothes for the cooling value.  I was concerned they weren't well put together, though, and I really didn't want jello and booze dripping down my back.  So,  I forged ahead.  The jello shot runners were wearing shirts that said "It's not like you're going to win it, anyway."  True that.

Miles 3 and 4 were mostly walking miles for me.  I knew by then I wasn't going to set a PR, and the heat really was hurting me.  This was my first run of the season in heat/humidity this high.  So, I resigned myself to it and just tried to enjoy it after the initial disappointment flooded through.  I'm trying to take my own advice and realize that some days are diamonds and some days are stones.  This was a stone day, for the most part.  But, it had it's moments.  On Mile 4, God shuffled my Ipod and Jeremy Camp sang "God, we need your power".  This brought fresh wind to my sails & I ran with arm raised to the heavens as Cece brought me "On Calvary".  And, no, a woman in pink shirt and running skirt with arms raised, singing (or huffing the words) is not strange enough in the CCC to even elicit a stare or comment.  It's a weird race.  Tried to at least pick up the pace on mile 5 to the end and was somewhat successful, thanks to my wingman.  I finished, upright and breathing.  Some days, that's enough.

Lessons learned?  One: It's summertime in the south.  Get acclimated to the heat.  I'll be adding some late day walks to my training to help with that process.  Two:  Not all hydration is created equal.  I'm a water drinker.  I've never been a fan of Gatorade type products.  Mostly because they taste awful.  But, on the bus ride back to the hotel, my legs started cramping viciously.  I poured water (and coffee) down while we showered and packed up, but they wouldn't quit.  I constantly moved them on the ride home, until we stopped for gas.  Gary told me to get a Gatorade for him and that I needed one, too.  I begrudgingly drank one, and almost like magic, the cramps went away.  I really hate it when he's right.  Doesn't happen that often, though, so I'll let him win this one.

All in all, not an awful day.  It wasn't a great run, but at least I know why.  Sometimes, I have bad runs and can't identify the cause. Those runs wig me out a little, because they chip away at my fragile confidence.  At least, when I can identify the cause, I can identify the solution.

And that brings me back to my original question.  Why do we have to learn everything the hard way?  All the best lessons of my life have been carried in on a tidal wave of angst.   I know that this is a product of living in a fallen world, so I'm making my peace with it.  I'll be glad when that new Heaven and new Earth are here, but until then, I'll just keep plodding along.

Perspective

I was going to write about pacing today.  I had an awesome run yesterday, this was a short training week, so I used yesterday's run to push myself hard.  It was epiphanic and I will share it with you, just at a later time.  I saw a movie today that brought perspective to the front and center of my thoughts and I've learned that I have to get those thoughts down or they'll make my head explode.  Well, it seems like that, anyway.

I went to see the movie "Soul Surfer" today.  It's based on the true story of a young woman named Bethany Hamilton who was an aspiring professional surfer.  I won't go into all the details of the movie (I highly encourage you to see it yourself), but Bethany loses her arm in a shark attack and has to rethink her entire future. There were many things about this movie that make it an absolute must see, the most important of which is that it beautifully shares the story of Bethany's faith in Jesus Christ and how that faith doesn't just get her through the most devastating thing of her life, but turns it into an inspiration for the entire world to see. And, she gives God the credit.  Amazing.

One of the lessons her youth Bible Study leader presented to her (and the other youth of her fellowship) before the accident was on perspective.  She tried to make them see that when we are too close to something, sometimes we have to step back and see the big picture in order to understand how God intends to use that situation for His Glory.  Not an easy lesson for an adult class, much less a group of young people who can only see what is right in front of them.  After Bethany lost her arm, she struggled with understanding how that could be God's will for her life.  Then she went to Thailand on a mission trip.   It had just been devastated by a tsunami and she met people whose entire families had been swept away before their eyes.  Children who had lost parents, mothers whose children were taken from their arms.  She got a new perspective and it gave her the determination she needed to get back on her surfboard and win.

In January of last year, I ran my first half marathon.  I was not an athlete growing up.  I was the bookworm,  the nerd.  Running came to my life as an adult, when God brought it to me to heal some deep wounds and teach me some important lessons.  So, a half marathon was a big deal to me.  I carefully selected one that I thought would offer the best conditions, be nearby, and give me the best race experience I could get.  I chose the Mississippi Blues Half marathon in Jackson.  Being a lifetime Mississippi native, I know that we have pretty moderate temperatures in January, usually low 40's to upper 60's.  The morning of the race dawned at 15 degrees.  The wind chill was 10 degrees.  I didn't sleep much the night before, worrying about how/if I would be able to deal with not just the distance, but the intense cold.  When we got up, I looked at my husband and told him I didn't think I could do it.  He encouraged me to get dressed and just go to the starting line, I had worked too hard to completely give up.  I begrudgingly dressed, whining loud and long the entire time.  All the way to the race, I moaned and groaned about the unfairness of my first race being ruined by the cold.  I was truly obnoxious, but my husband listened without a word.  We found a parking place and I flounced out of the car and walked to the back to get my things.  As I reached the rear of the car, a wheelchair athlete rolled past me, talking excitedly about the upcoming event to his partner.  Perspective.  I looked at Gary, who wisely remained silent, and said, "Okay, I'll stop whining now."  I took my place among the other equally cold, but very excited racers and ran that half marathon in the frigid cold.   It started snowing on mile 7.  The wheelchair athlete passed me on mile 9.  It wasn't pretty, but I finished my first long distance race intact and grateful.

People say to me all the time, "I wish I could run."  My response to them seldom varies.  If I can, they can.  I'm not a great athlete.  I'm not even a particularly good one.  I'm slow and grouchy in the mornings, but I know if I don't run then, that it won't get done.  It's not discipline that makes me do it, it's perspective.  I run because I can.  Because there are many who really can't run who want to.  I always think of that wheelchair athlete in Jackson when I lose faith in the journey.   Now, when I run, I'll think of Bethany Hamilton.  

 

Doubt and Divine Appointments

Doubt and Divine appointments

Sometimes, doubt settles in like fog on a muggy Mississippi morning.  It floats around my mind and settles on my heart.  This week has brought doubt, misgivings, even a little fear.  

Am I really up to this?  Something always hurts.  An ankle, a knee, a hip, even my elbow!  Not always the same joint, but there’s always a new ache, a new crackle, a new pain that demands attention and throws that mean little seed of doubt into my mind.  That whiny, needly voice that says “I’m not a runner.  I can’t run a marathon, what am I wasting my time for?”  Or, that voice that sounds oddly like my Mom’s that says “Why does that hurt?  Are you causing irreparable damage to something?  Shouldn’t you stop pounding away on your joints?  Don’t you need to see a doctor about that?”.  Then there’s that mean girl voice that reminds me I need to lose 25 pounds.  She very smugly whispers that my joints wouldn’t hurt so much if they didn’t have such a burden to bear.  Then, she tells me that it’s no use trying to lose weight at my age, I might as well eat whatever I want to.  I used to make fun of my grandmother for talking to herself, now I realize she was probably just telling her “voices” to shut up and let her get on with it.  Knowing my Mamaw, I’m sure they very meekly packed their things and went on their way, tails tucked between their legs.   Unfortunately, my sister, Melodie, inherited Mamaw’s spirit, I can’t seem to summon the right words at times to make them hush.  This has been one of those weeks.   

What does doubt have to do with divine appointments?  I deeply believe that God brings people into our lives for seasons to  help us accomplish the goals He has planned for us.  He may bring them to us in the form of a friend, but sometimes He uses people we are never likely to meet to help us on our way.  It may be an author He’s given divine insight to that helps us see our way.  Or, it may be a pastor, teacher, or even a random stranger who points out the flaw in our thinking, the misstep we are about to make.  Because, giving up would be a misstep on my part.  

This week He’s provided me with several doubt slayers.  One is in the form of an author, Kristen Armstrong.  I’m reading her book “Mile Markers”, and it is inspirational in a way I desperately needed right now.  She has grace, wisdom, and a knowledge of what running means to the soul.  Reading her book is really helping me conquer the  doubt monster that’s eating away at my confidence.  

One of the many, many gems I’ve taken away from this book is a quote by Eleanor Roosevelt.  “Do one thing every day that scares you.” It might be saying “no” to something that you would normally say “yes” to and then resent.  It might be giving a speech or standing up to a bully.  Or, it might be signing up for a race that seems like an insurmountable distance for you.  Yikes!  Ok, so the distance is a little scary.  More than a little, actually.  But, I know that when I feel like I can’t do it any more, God will pick it up and do it with me.  Because I firmly believe that this is a divine appointment for me.

 
10 So do not fear, for I am with you;
   do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
   I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.  Isaiah 41:10

I’m counting on it.  

The relativity of time

A great run flies by.  Last week's long run was one of those, mind cleansing, the miles over before I knew it.  Today's was the exact opposite.  My legs screamed the entire 8 miles.  So loudly at times that I thought other people were looking at me strangely.  But, it's done, and today's entry isn't really about bad runs versus good runs.  It's a reflection on time.

Spending time with a good friend, sharing a meal, catching up on each other's lives, enjoying a cup of coffee together,  the time melts away.  Taking an ice bath after a bad run makes ten minutes seem like two hours.  Good times speed through our lives at the speed of light.  Hard times seem to drag on forever.

My ice bath today was actually the cause of this reflection.  I carefully noted the time I started as I'm trying to work up to the recommended twenty minutes.  After what seemed like at least ten minutes had passed, I looked at the clock.  Four minutes.  Really?  I'm proud to say I set a new record and lasted twelve minutes. During that time, I started reflecting on time and it's inconsistent properties.

It brought me to a deeper level of thought than the length of an ice bath.  I learned this week that some friends who have been battling the serious illness of both husband and wife received some discouraging news.  This is the latest in a long stream of families that I know or have connections to who have gotten that news that drives you to your knees.

Time.  Theirs is running out.  But, isn't all our time running out?

God divinely planned the day and hour of my birth.  He also knows when He'll be welcoming me home.  We all have a limited amount of time in which to live our lives, leave our legacy.  Is mine what it should be?  Is yours?  If I received the news that I had a certain amount of time left to live, would it change what I'm doing now?  Would I live my life differently?  I hope not.  I pray that the life I'm living is the life I'm supposed to live.  Because the truth is, I do only have a certain amount of time left to live.  I don't know what that is, but I do know God gave me a purpose, a plan. Something in my life is meant to further His kingdom.  Am I doing that?  Am I actively seeking my place, looking for and using my gifts, using my time here to fulfill my destiny?  Last week, our pastor used the owner of the donkey in Luke 19:29-40 to illustrate the point that we all have a place in the story.  The owner of the donkey freely gave his animal to the Lord to use because that was what he had to give.  What is my "donkey"?  What do I have to give to the kingdom?  Am I using my time, my brief journey to further the kingdom?   If not, why not?  Are you?

Yeah, I know, pretty deep for an ice bath.  But, hey, I had to make the time pass somehow.

 ³² Those who were sent ahead went and found it just as he had told them. ³³ As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?”

 ³⁴ They replied, “The Lord needs it.  Luke 19:32-34

What do you have that the Lord needs?  

Perseverance

If you read last week's post, you know that I have had a discouraging couple of weeks in my training.  Oh, what a difference a week makes.

I've been a "runner" for a long time.  I put quotes around "runner" because, as I've said before, what I do makes real runners laugh.  Years ago, my husband and I came up with a term for what I do: "woggling",  a cross between a jog and a waddle.  Very graceful.  What I've learned with time, though, is that what any running program demands is perseverance.  The ability to keep picking them up and putting them down, even when you don't want to, there's little desire or motivation, and you have two bad training weeks in a row.

So, this week's runs were about keeping the faith.  Remembering my long term goal (health and well-being) and my short term goal (the NYC marathon in November).  Running to remind myself that I can.

Monday's run was a short one.  Three short miles, pushing a body that wanted to sleep in and not be humbled again, but I did it.  Didn't feel wonderful, but it was in the bag.  I had a wildly busy week, so it was Thursday before I was able to run again (I run 3x a week, cross train 2x).  Thursday's run was also a short one, four miles that went by painlessly and fairly quickly.

Saturday's long run came early.  I'd been mentally prepping myself all week, I wanted to do the seven from last week's failed attempt, and push myself at 10k pace.  The weather was perfect, so I hit the local rails to trails.  It was a glorious run.  Soul soothing and mind cleansing.  I was able to keep a fairly fast pace (for me) and finished with energy to spare.  A much needed reminder of why it is I run.

I share this because I think it's really important to remember that discipline is about doing it when you really don't want to.  Shaking off the bad days and pushing through them to find the good ones.  Kind of like life.  I'm certainly not the first to compare training for and running a marathon to life, but the analogy is a good one.  I have more good runs than bad ones, but somehow the bad ones are the ones I learn the most from.  The lesson I took away from the last few weeks is that perseverance is an absolute necessity in my training, just as it is in life.  Don't give up or give in when setbacks occur.  Figure out what the problem is, then work through it for a solution.  Don't become discouraged and quit, success is often right around the corner.

³ Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; ⁴ perseverance, character; and character, hope.  Romans 5:3-4