ING Half Marathon

I doubt many people sleep well the night before an early morning race. Anticipation and knowing that your alarm is set for an ungodly hour generally has one checking the time throughout the night. Add in the fact that most of the time you're in a strange bed makes the idea of running 13.1 miles even crazier than it sounds on its own. And yet, here I am, signed up for 3 races in 3 months. Well, two now as I thankfully made it through race one yesterday.

I spent Saturday night with my friend and her husband who were also signed up for the race and we headed out at 5 am Sunday morning. The ride was a little nerve wracking, not knowing how traffic would be closer to the start, wondering if I'd have time for that last bathroom break before the starting gun and once again rethinking my decision to participate in the craziness. I should have known better. There were plenty of bathrooms open and once you're in the corral, there is the 30 minute wait as the 25,000 people slowly make their way to the line.

My initial plan was to run the first 3 miles at a slow pace and then start my training intervals of run 3 minutes, walk 1. Word of caution, those first 3 miles, you will feel really good, great, in fact, and your idea of a steady pace increases exponentially until you find yourself beating your previous 5k PR by 2 to 3 minutes. I was so pleased with how I felt that I kept right on running more than I planned. I kept telling myself to take it easy, but the adrenaline and the fact that my friend is a runner not an interval-er, beat out my good sense. She had promised to stay with me and I didn't want to let her down. Never again. I'm not sure how much it would have helped, but walking more earlier may have helped me at the end. At the time, though, it actually felt better to do a slow jog than the intervals.

At mile 5, I ate a couple of GU blocks and for some reason, they didn't set well with me and out of the blue, at mile 6, I hit a wall. My legs felt good, I was breathing fine, but my stomach felt weird and quite honestly, I just wanted to sit down and quit. I expected to feel some of this around mile 8 or 9, but it hitting me so early really threw me for a loop. The thought of not even being halfway made me want to cry. And this is where runners will tell you it gets mental. I just kept telling myself I was fine, that I had run this many miles, and more, plenty of times without incident. And I soldiered on.

THANKFULLY, by 7.5 miles, I broke through the wall and the next 3 miles went by smoothly. I was feeling good again, even jogging more than walking. Oh, but then miles 11 and 12 came and my legs decided they were done playing nicely. If I jogged, my legs felt better, but the bottoms of my feet were a ball of nerves and I could feel the nice new blisters on both of my toes. If I walked, my feet felt better, but my calves and hamstrings rebelled and tightened to the point of some serious pain. Even though I had hoped to finish strong, I walked most of the last mile with short bursts of speed. My time was still about where I wanted it to be, so I thought better to be able to get across the finish line upright than to stop with one mile to my goal. One poor woman I saw must have been having a similar and worse problem because she was leaning on her two friends and her legs were locked straight. I felt really bad for her. Sucks to go all that way to have something like that happen at the end.

All the sudden, I looked up and holy cow, it was the finish line! I ran as fast as my poor legs could carry me that last tenth of a mile and finished with an official time of 2:48. As soon as I crossed the line, I could have broken down and sobbed. The pure relief of completing the race hits you in the face and many people were wiping their eyes. To be honest, I was not feeling well at that point. Where was my high?!

I found my friend (we had gotten separated at mile 10) and she took one look at my goosebumped arms and started shoving food at me. It was the strangest feeling, like I was going to pass out or throw up. Now that I look back, I didn't hydrate enough leading up to the race and being sick the week before probably didn't help either. At this point, I was seriously reconsidering my plan to complete two more halves.

Once again, thankfully, the feeling passed within 10 minutes or so and then Finally,the high started setting in. One day later, I'm still excited that I have two more races to do. They will be fun for different reasons, but I definitely will do better leading unto the day of the race.

I don't want to scare anyone who may be training for their first race, but moreso let you know that yes, it may suck at times, but you can do it and it will still be amazing.

And Love Some More

Whew, so how about that election? That sure brought the crazies out, didn't it? I'm not sure why people think angrily blasting their opinions on Facebook will win people over, but there you go. To me, it becomes less about the candidates or even the issues and more of a "I'm right and you're wrong."

When I was thinking about writing this post, I was incredibly frustrated and even angry. In a round about way, I found a status of someone that I'm no longer "friends" with that professes to be a Christian and a preacher too. The status was about the two candidates and quite frankly was incredibly racist. I was horrified and my initial reaction was to fire back a response, but I didn't. I've been trying to work on opening conversations with people, but I've tried before with this person and it just became a spitting match. I then thought about posting a scathing status myself, but that's not really appropriate either. So lucky reader, you get my thoughts.

I know I've mentioned before that I'm studying and slowly reading the New Testament to establish my own belief system. I've also been reading the history of the times and how the scriptures relate to what's happening. I've been wanting to write my thoughts but like any good English major, I've wanted to conduct research and check things before putting my thoughts to paper. Let's be honest though, the chances of me having time for all that and the energy are slim, so here are my initial observations. Actually, it's mainly just one: love.

Everything comes from love.

John 3:16 - For God so Loved the world . . .

John 13:34 - A new commandment I give to you, that you Love one anoher . . .

Galations 5:22 - But the fruit of the Spirit is Love . . .

Romans 13:9-10 - For the commandments, “You shall not commit adultery, You shall not murder, You shall not steal, You shall not covet,” and any other commandment, are summed up in this word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.

I Corithians 13 - But the greatest of these is Love.

I John 4:7 - God is Love

In the New International Version of the New Testament, the word love appears 232 times. You know how many times hell is mentioned? Roughly 23. And some of those appear to refer to a physical place in Jerusalem that was the city dump. The area was always on fire.

I don't know about you, but 232 seems a little bigger than 23. And consistently, the scriptures refer to Love as the greatest, the most important, the first, etc. First and foremost, this is how you are to act. You are to love those around you, so they know you are of Me (God).

I am so tired of the phrase Love the sinner, hate the sin. If you love someone, truly, you don't treat them that way regardless of the sin. I love my children, I would not say the things that are being said about fellow humans to my children. I love my friends, we may disagree, but I would never attack them the way some of our fellow humans are being attacked. It is amazing we are able to bring any of the lost to Jesus the way some of these "Christians" are acting. Here's the thing, folks, we are ALL sinners. All fall short of the glory of God. My sin of over indulging on food, or alcohol, or gossip is no better than this or that person's sin of gambling or promescuity or lying.

We need to come together and say, hey, maybe this other stuff doesn't matter so much; we should all strive to take care of the "least of these". The people who don't have fresh water, the children without families, the families without homes. The people who need our help. Let's focus our attentions on that for a while.

There's a part in a Casting Crowns' song that says, "They're on the way to You, but they're stumbling over me." Let's show the love of Jesus and let God worry about the rest.

Love

Peyton and I have been at odds this past week. I tend to have the emotions of a straight line, where he is definitely a zig-zag. At times, it can be very difficult for me to handle the ups and downs of his personality. The extremes drive me nuts and it seemed to be really bad last week.

It becomes a vicious cycle where he will act out seeking attention and because of his behavior, all I want to do is send him from the room. So then the cycle begins again. I can see this and when he's not around, I'll build a resolve to stop it, but then he'll walk in the room acting crazy, and I'll just send him away.

Also, he and Shey have just been mean to each other lately and I've been at a loss as what to do. Then a stroke of brilliance hit. Love.

Love has been on my mind these past few months. Isn't that what it all boils down too? If we are always motivated by love, the choices become clear. In times of frustration, I need extra love to see me through. It's hard to stay aggravated when hugging someone.

And so my idea. Whenever the boys are frustrating me, I'm going to "wrap them in love." literally. I've tried it a few times, and they always start laughing and the situation is somewhat diffused. Even this morning, on the way to the car, the name calling started. I felt myself tense, getting ready to scold, but instead I called Peyton to me and Shey started laughing. I threw my arms around him, squeezed tight and told him I loved him.

I know it won't solve all the problems, but if we start in a place of love rather than anger, I know it will make a difference.

Happy Birthday, Mama Tew

I don't remember the exact date, Elizabeth was only a couple of months old and I had flown with all three kids to visit my parents before school started. As customary, I made the drive north to Alabaster to visit my best friend and let our kids play together for the day. Funny, Peyton and David, although only seeing each other maybe once a year, have formed a bond and friendship that I hope will span their lifetimes just like ours, and Peyton looks forward to these visits as much as I do.

On the day we were set to visit, Tamara had an obligation arise, so Pat came up to visit with me and help watch the kids. I can't say anything spectacular happened that day, there was no feeling of the impending loss that would occur less than a year later, or deep philosophical conversations about anything in particular. Mainly, we sat on the couch together chatting. Pat cooed over Elizabeth, we both fussed at Tamara, even though she wasn't there to defend herself, about the state of the kids' rooms and we folded laundry.

Pat had been intwined in my life since second grade as my best friend's mom, but this was the first time we had spent a significant amount time together as adults. She was a little short of breath, but that was the only indication of the battle she was enduring. Just a normal day, but now one that is forever seared in my memory.

At one point, Madalyn wanted to follow the boys around the neighborhood, but Pat wouldn't let her go. She impressed upon me that I had to watch over Elizabeth more protectively since she was a girl. I can still picture Madalyn leaning into her as Pat played with her hair.

Eventually, Tamara returned and I packed up my three kids to head home. To be honest, I couldn't help when I first arrived to be a little annoyed that I wouldn't get the hours I craved to gab with my best friend, but by the end of the day, I found I had quite enjoyed myself and as Tamara often mentions, the peace that Pat exuded.

Today, Pat would have celebrated her 66th birthday, much too young to be taken from us. I know though, she's there, praying for her family and friends, cheering them on and probably still fussing over the state of her grandchildren's rooms. I love you, Mama Tew!

According to Pi

I'm currently reading "Life of Pi" by Yann Martel and I had to share this passage. Pi is a Hindu boy and early in the novel, he comes across a Catholic priest. Pi had no understanding of Christianity, so the Father explains the story of Jesus and the following are some of Pi's thoughts. It's a little long, but I love the pure, unencumbered train of thought.

" That a god should put up with adversary, I could understand. The gods of Hinduism face their fair share of thieves, bullies, kidnappers and usurpers. . . . But humiliation? Death? I couldn't imagine Lord Krishna consenting to be stripped naked, whipped, mocked, dragged through the streets and, to top it off, crucified - and at the hands of mere humans to boot. I'd never heard of a Hindu god dying . ..divinity should not be blighted by death. It's wrong. ... Why would God wish that upon Himself? Why make dirty what is beautiful, spoil what is perfect?

Love. That was Father Martin's answer.

. . .

This Son, on the other hand, who goes hungry, who suffers from thirst, who gets tired, who is sad, who is anxious, who is heckled and harassed, who has to put up with followers who don't get it and opponents who don't respect him- what kind of god is that?

. . .

This Son is a god who spent most of his time telling stories, talking. This son is a god who walked, a pedestrian god- and in a hot place, at that- with a stride like any human stride ... This son is a god who died in three hours, with moans, gasps and laments. What is there to inspire in this Son?

...

I couldn't get him out of my head. Still can't. I spent three solid days thinking about him. The more he bothered me, the less I could forget him. And the more I learned about him, the less I wanted to leave him."

Month Eighteen

Dear Boo,

Today you turn 18 months. Oh the time, she is flying. When I look at your little toddler body, it's hard to remember my sweet, tiny newborn, so new and defenseless. You've turned into quite the stinker. Very opinionated and mischievous. Already when I tell you no, you cut those big, brown eyes my way and try it again just to see what I'll do.

Sunday, you decided you'd had enough of the crib, so you climbed out. I lowered the mattress another knotch and you climbed out again. I mean, really, isn't 18 months too young to be making such big decisions. Needless to say, the past few days have been a little rough in the sleeping department. Right now, you're asleep on your floor, but you've been lying there an hour and a half, so I'm not complaining. Be thankful you won't wake with the aches and pains of a 35 yr old body!

You are absolutely fearless, my baby girl. Transversing the playground equipment like kids twice your age, flinging yourself down slides and climbing up ladders. You scare me sometimes, but it also makes me proud. No one will get in your way. The world is yours.

You're starting to "talk" more and more and you are so earnest with your stories that I know once the right words come, your brothers will have a hard time getting a word in edgewise. You already like bossing them around and beating them up.

I love you, My wild child. I could never imagined how wonderful life would be at home taking care of you.

Love,

Mama

Father, Forgive Them

Tenth Avenue North has a relatively new song out titled "Losing." One of the main refrains is "Father, Forgive them. They don't know what they've been doing." I really like the song and that one line led me to think about where those words come from, some of Jesus' last before He died on the cross. The phrase really got stuck in my head, and I decided I wanted to look into it deeper.

Interestingly enough, Luke offers the only account of Jesus' words and my Bible's footnote states that some early manuscripts do not contain the sentence at all. Then I looked into the situation, according to Luke, Jesus was on the cross at the time and from what I read, I assume he's talking to the very people who put him there. As an aside, Luke is also the only account of Jesus forgiving the criminal hanging to his side.

I've heard this phrase all my life, we even sang a song with it in chorus, but I don't think I've ever really thought about the implications. Yes, I was taught that Jesus forgave them, but it was almost too glossed over. Really think about it for a minute, Jesus asked for their forgiveness, even though he stated they didn't know what they were doing. There was no call for repentance. There was no baptism. There wasn't a prayer asking Jesus into their hearts. Just forgiveness.

I'm not even sure where I can lead with this, for now it's just blowing my mind that forgiveness was given without any hoops being jumped through.

At this point in my life as I read through the Bible as an adult and with fresh eyes, I see a Gospel of Grace and Love, not rules and burdens. If Jesus offered forgiveness to the very people who were killing him, how much moreso will he bless those acting in love towards their neighbors?

Obviously, I'm not saying this give us free reign to go and do as we please, just something to think about when we run across people who claim you have to do x, y and z to get into Heaven. We have to remember there is no doing on our part, it's a gift and when we truly appreciate the gift, then we can respond to others with the same love.