Backstretches

As any of my former track coaches could attest to, the longer distance races were not my specialty. My high school coach often joked that he would need to pull out a calendar to time my quarter mile. As I progressed to the 800m “dash” in college, I did so with trepidation because it hurt. Whether I ran it in 3:03 or 2:23, the pain always met me along the way. The fear subsided as I grew in confidence that a) I wouldn’t die. b) I could improve each time. c) I only had to run it 2-3 times a year. d) The 800 is way easier than the 400. (It’s not logical and highly disputed by those who run the shorter race, but let them enjoy pools of lactic acid in their butts.)

There is one stretch of the 800 that required a certain amount of extra focus, desire, and guts. At the 500 mark, with just 300 to go, one is faced with a seemingly endless straight backstretch. Due to track construction methods, this stretch is often into the wind and lacking any sort of stadium area for cheering. It is here that one realizes how much more is left. It’s as if the 800 has started over. For me, a curve girl, the straight track simply felt like a desert without an oasis. But of course, once I made it to the corner, I had but 175 meters to go and an end literally in sight.

Why bring up this now, you might ask? A valid question especially since I’m no longer training for such short races but instead want to tackle 26.2 miles. A marathon is just slow, endless and somehow thrilling in its own insane way, but not a proper analogy at this point in time. No, the 800 race reminds me of my current life.

Mac and I have worked out a system so that we’re both as productive as possible (he is succeeding way more than I am) and still attentive to each other despite living in different cities. Every other weekend we visit each other, enjoy a nice dinner or go to a show, and catch up on SEEING each other as we share stories and make plans.

Well, as I’ve come to notice, this is like running an 800 with that middle weekend posing as the looming backstretch. The two weeks fly by when we’re both busy, running the curves I might say, and living for the moment. But the lactic acid build-up and long straight stretch always greet me on the weekend. I know that I’m half way there, but tell that to my heart. Finally on Sunday night, I realize how close we are to reuniting. I’ve hit the curve, see the end in sight, and can’t wait to collapse into his arms.

Like the 800 races I ran, I know I will survive these relationship races. I find way too much joy in a heptathlon and in Mac to let this one little portion of the event keep me down. So instead of looking at my calendar to cross off the days, I’m going to hit the gym and my knees in prayer so the backstretches become a strong part of my race.

CARDBOARD & capital letters

Driving down the street this morning, I read a man’s cardboard sign, “VIETNAM VET. ANY HELP GOOD.” Yesterday I remember seeing a man slinging this backpack and holding a sign stating, “HOMELESS. PLEASE HELP. GOD BLESS.” More and more of these signs are popping up on street corners throughout this town. Both men and women seek a dollar or work or anything because “LAID OFF WITH TWO KIDS. ANYTHING HELPS.”

The abundance of these people with their cardboard signs of capital letters breaks my heart for their circumstance. I can’t imagine what it feels like to endure the loss of dignity not to mention means to survive in this country. But I also wonder if these people have lost their identity and if my friends and I would hold up signs to identify our present realities and allegiance.

The VIETNAM VET took provide in this name and yet seeks compassion because of it. As I passed him, I thought about what he’s done since he served in that war. Was being a soldier his crowning moment? Was serving the USA in armed forces the only accreditation that people would acknowledge? His positions both in the military services and veterans rank are honorable, and yet are they a cop-out or consequence for his current reality? That man has found his name in this one position for what seems to have been a significant portion of his life. How does his spirit feel to have a same associated with power now associated with humility and loss?

HOMELESS. Lack of place often results in lack of identity. Where better to be than the corner if not in a home? The hardships of homelessness are great and not easy overcome. Time, energy, resources, and an enormous amount of perseverance are required. And the same is needed to find identity. More than just he homeless are at a loss for people in a dead end job, graduates, retired folk, and many others enduring change in life sense a listless wandering of where one is to be grounded and safe at home. It’s not a lack of desire to be settled, but what? The best cardboard sign?

The LAID OFF DAD cries out the most to me as he’s pleading for help in his cause. He’s fighting to protect and provide for his kids no matter what the loss to him. He’s identified what’s most important to him and seeking to hold fast to that identity. Who will come alongside him? What will he sacrifice to win?

Do other signs exist that we ignore? STRUGGLING ARTIST. DESPERATE IGNORED WIFE. DOUBTING CHRIST FOLLOWER. FRIGHTENED LEADER. APATHETIC WITH SCHOOL LOANS.

These signs offer up undisclosed identities. People cry to drop and destroy this cardboard sign. But how? Just like a dollar on the corner has little power to change a person forever, solutions seem untenable for this list. Yet, just like naming a child demonstrates a newborn’s existence in the world, life through transformed and restored identities can be had.
Restore dignity.
Affirm great and honorable qualities.
Give companionship.
Maybe these should be on cardboard.

hope a la mode

My housemate walked in the door this afternoon, dropped her bags and pulled out a bowl that she filled with frozen berries. She proceeded to make a full dinner with broccoli and all…oh and of course the berry crisp! Unless starvation has ensued, neither of us are that commandeering of the kitchen. But she had another mission. It wasn’t just dinner. Or food. Or a new recipe. It was a gift for her friends. Lately her friends have been dealing with the troubles and worries of a complicated pregnancy, one with a lot of questions and few reassuring answers. So my housemate made dinner for the couple and enjoyed a meal and time with them.

A friend from church emailed a bunch of ladies, looking for help. Another church member was undergoing emergency surgery. With boys at home, food had to be provided. So without hesitation, I made dinner for the family. An easy recipe made complete with a warm loaf of French bread was the offering I could deliver in the midst of this precarious time.

A family I love moves to Mississippi in about a month. The couple needed a chance to go out for a “unique” dinner and some time together before packing up their young daughter and heading south. So my sis and I gladly offered to babysit. I brought dinner for us all and then we played with Sesame Street finger puppets.

All these circumstances could have happier parts. My housemate could have gone over to celebrate a couple as they get ready for a new life in their midst. Instead, she just needed to be with them in this less than carefree moment in time. Likewise, surgery or moving don’t wrap me up in warm fuzzies. They are parts of life, kinda the gloomy parts, that have to be lived along with the rainbows and butterflies.

On my way home from babysitting, I thought of how Jesus ate dinner with people who had terrible diseases, women who were shunned from society, and friends who grieved. He could have and often did relieve these people of the heartaches of life, but actually promised to do more. He promised to share a meal, a dinner, with everyone; it was a meal that would help them remember him. This dinner also showed them how life, in all its circumstances, can be endured with perseverance and hope. As the Apostle Paul said, “Hope does not disappoint.”

I realized no amount of ice cream or cards or hugs or petitions to the people in charge can fix a circumstance. I’m good at doing those things. But Jesus didn’t want us to rely on such distractions. He wanted us to remember him because he gives life, and he gives peace unlike any that the world could give. He’s also helps us with perspective which I think is a huge part of persevering. Tomorrow is another day with new possibilities and no mistakes. And when the gloom recedes behind the sun, I’ll take that circumstance in stride, celebrating with a dinner and hope.

Old Wisdom, New Ears

Today began the first of four mornings committed to “making athletes out of you.” We’re hosting the 2nd annual track camp at Whitworth. The high school students and coaches alike are relatively new to the Whitworth program and staff, and they’re in for a treat. Toby is funny- at least to the newbies (I was one of them once)- Travis is organized, the throws coaches are huge, and I’m just cute. I mean completely able and competent.
So we started the session with a few house keeping rules (ie “The bathrooms are to your right.”). Then Toby sought initial commitment by telling the athletes to close their eyes and asking them why they came. “Why did you show up and what do you want to take away?” These questions aren’t trick ones and they can be answered fairly simply. But these questions require the athletes to do more than show up. These questions require intentional investment.

Hold that thought…

Following the pep talk, I led the group of over 30 kids through a warm-up. For some, the warm-up might have been a good enough workout for the day but we carried on. I told them to keep their knees up, stay tall and encouraged them with the fact that anything they could do backwards they could do forwards. (Try it sometime.) We even did a set of Happy Jacks so round out the warm-up. Perhaps they weren’t the most applicable, but smiles are just as important to good performance as loose muscles.
Throughout my 30 minutes with the athletes and the following hour with my hurdle crew of 4, there were athletes who just took for granted that they could stand up straight and run much less “play track and field.” And yet, I cheered and critiqued them both in my head and verbally. First days set the stage.

We ended the morning with lots of abs. Lots = 8 minutes. Try it, 8 minutes is a long time. And then Toby gathered us all again to ask, “What did you learn? What will you take away? Now go write it down.”

It dawned on me that the attitudes we bring to life each day we wake up breathing another blessed breath should be checked by this question: What do you want to learn? What are you going to be intentional about? What are you going to take away? It’s easy to go through the motions, bring your knees up only so high, say your prayers only until you fall asleep, love your kids enough to keep them from crying. But we’re told to strive for perfection and commit. We’re told to love God with ALL our heart, strength and mind. We’re offered a choice to go big everyday. However, this choice does not come with an autopilot. Making a choice to love or pray or eat right or do great work requires an intentional investment. Some things we need to do with some automation such as breathing, but we can be intentional about deep breathing for relaxation or breathing hard during a work out.

So why did you show up today? What did you learn? How have you been intentional in your relationships, work, mind and soul?

Recommitting

I just woke up from a Sunday afternoon nap, but didn’t actually want to get up.

I have a few things on my "to do" list, many of which I would enjoy, but they seemed so daunting compared to my soft pillow.

And one such item on my list was to write.

Of course, that “to do” has failure scribbled all over it. It’s like when a little kid asks me to draw a picture. Where to start? What’s the subject? What color crayon?
But adding such a to do on the list was my first real intention at recommitting to my blog, to journaling, and to writing as a joyous hobby. I’ve looked over the number of entries for past months and realized I wrote because I thought there was something worthwhile to say. I was touring the USA with kids from Africa. I was teaching English and kissing giraffes in Kenya. I was running for ridiculous distances (ridiculous for a sprinter).

So here I am, Sunday afternoon, doing normal life, looking at my “to do” list, maybe eating lunch and realizing, writing doesn’t always need an exotic subject. A picture can be a simple pink flower.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t see the value to rehashing the mundane thoughts behind laundry- though I did read an interesting blog from a mom with nine kids who prays as she folds clothes, a prayer for the wearer. I do see real value, however, in putting down one word at a time. Making a switch to act rather than to sloth about.
Part of the gas fueling this ambitious engine is the book Switch by Dan Heath and Chip Heath. They write about the simple things that can change behaviors, attitudes, and realities. They have many profound and practical techniques that I’ve already begun to integrate into my work and personal life. (Perhaps I should dedicate this blog entry to them.) I highly recommend the book but in order for this thought to move off the screen and into action, I invite you to use a few of their suggestions:

1)On your list write: Look on Amazon.com for Switch.
2)Or Look in the telephone book for the library’s number to call and ask if they have it.
3)Better yet, find it on tape. The book’s already read for you. All you have to do is drive while the narrator reads. You’re half way done.

I love writing. I love reading. I love making dinner, working out, practicing music, emailing my friends, even brainstorming and executing projects for work. But sometimes it takes a little more enthusiasm and tactical trickery to get my elephant of motivation working.

Another one of my favorite writers, Anne Lamott, puts it like this. Her brother had a report due on the many species of birds in his home state. As any good teenage student would, he left it for the last minute. Stressed out and only slightly motivated, he sought advise (more in the form of HELP ME, DO THIS!) from his father. The father simply said, “Son, you’re just going to have to go bird by bird.”

I plan to modify my "to do" lists slightly. Say one prayer for someone you know in the world. Stop for 5 minutes and think. Put on your running shoes and go out the door. Pour yourself a half a glass of water. And now another. Write one sentence about what you see out your window. These aren't profound. They're not even interesting. But they're a start, one step in many miles.

his enduring way

Ernest Shackleton gave his life to the exploration, to the craft and most significantly to his men. This Antarctic explorer from the early 20th century led various adventures to the frozen continent, only to be faced with seemingly insurmountable obstacles. And yet throughout it all, his responsibility to his crew drove him to every extreme that earned him great respect, loyalty and deep devotion.
I finished a book about his leadership called Shackleton’s Way. It’s an incredible collection of stories summarized the key elements of his leadership style and skills. I highly recommend it.

As I read the tale and reflected on many of my own actions as a leader or follower but certainly as one who could learn a few life lessons from this great man. One of his qualities that I admire and can relate to is his dedication to his people. From the first to the last moments of a treacherous expedition, his devotion to his people and sincere desire to see them safe and happy at all times gave him the motivation to stay alive and push forward. Those tasks may seem simple, it meant not sleeping for days on end, trekking up and down cliffs for 36 hours straight, and sacrificing and replacing any complaint to an optimistic and encouraging word. In order to keep this countenance he relied a great deal on his faith and on the words of poets and great writers such as Dickens, Shakespeare and Robert Browning. The authors commented that rather than focus on the annoying/aggravating/debilitating issues facing him, he would instead focus his attention on big ideas such as life, love, camaraderie and choice.

This notion both convicted me and inspired me. How often I seek consolation from a willing ear to hear a silly grievance or internally brood over something I deem as a slight or worse? And yet, I have so much to be thankful for. I have been blessed so much. And with most of these simple aggravations of mine, they will pass and be forgotten.

Shackleton sought companionship, honesty, and laughter. He gave out these qualities from his natural personality, his sense of responsibility and joy. May we continue to grow in our ability to give abundantly, request with fairness, and leave the past mistakes behind.