People are Watching

This past Sunday I ran the Mercedes Half Marathon. I went into the race with very few expectations because I had not fully trained for the event. The race was two months removed from the Rocket City Marathon for which I had trained diligently. But for the Mercedes? Not so much. I was hoping there would be some lingering effects from my previous hard work. Consequently, I really did not have a goal in mind other than to finish in under 2 hours (something I had done several times before).

I also was not completely sure how my body would respond to the test. But it was a beautiful morning with perfect conditions: cold and sunny but not frigid nor windy. I started out slow (mainly due to the 6000+ other runners) but soon found a comfortable yet energetic pace.

As we ran through the streets of Birmingham, scattered clumps of people gathered to cheer us on. Well, not me specifically, but they were cheering on their friends, their spouses, and their children. Some blew horns. Some played music. Many held homemade signs. The content of the signs ranged from "Go Dad!" to "Toenails are overrated!" One group even had several inspirational signs. One sign in particular was captured by the camera in my mind. It read: "Don't Stop! People are watching!"

I spent the next half mile pondering the implication of this phrase. Did I maintain my pace (or even speed up a little) as I ran by this sign? Perhaps. But I had stopped to walk in other races without considering whether people were watching me. Had I let them down in some way? Would they really be inspired by my continued effort? But then it occurred to me that I had never actually "stopped" during a race. I had slowed down to a jog. I had even walked for miles. But I had never stopped.

After the race it dawned on me that people are still watching me. Friends, family, acquaintances, strangers -- they are all watching me. Perhaps not constantly or pointedly, but they are definitely watching. How do I react to adversity? How do I respond at the end of a long day? Have I prepared for the situation before me? Have I studied? Have I worked hard? Have I prayed? In other words, have I done the training that is necessary to run the race that I want to run, the race of which I am capable of running?

I don't want to walk through life. I don't want to have to stop. But even more than that, I want to run with strength. People are watching.

The Primrose Path

During my recent trip to Honduras, I found myself lacking reading material. I had neglected to pack a book or a magazine or anything else to read (besides my Idiot's Guide to Spanish). I had intended to rely on the books I had downloaded on my iPhone Kindle app. But as I lay in bed on the first night in expectation of the relaxing comfort of a good novel, I realized I had not downloaded any new material. I was faced with a dilemma: re-read a mystery novel or begin one of the other works. My choices were limited. It came down to Fear and Trembling by Kierkegaard or one of Shakespeare's plays. Not having read it in awhile, I chose Hamlet.

Yes, it seems an odd choice given the circumstances. But as I began to read, I found the story familiar and the rhythms pleasing. I once heard Hamlet described as "nothing but a bunch of quotations strung together." And it's true (it is difficult to resist the urge to type " 'tis true!" right there). Passage after passage spoke to me in new and different ways. One passage early on particularly caught my attention. Laertes counsels his sister, Ophelia, to be cautious in receiving the affections of Hamlet lest they prove fleeting and false. Ophelia, the dutiful younger sister, agrees to take heed of his advice, but goes on to add:

But, good my brother,
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;
Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own rede. (I,iii,49-54)

Hypocrisy. It's an ugly word with a long and ugly history. The word "hypocrisy" comes from the Greek. It translates literally to "under-decide" but was used to denote "play-acting." I'm sure there were hypocrites even before ancient Greece.

Ophelia warns her brother, Laertes, not to hold her to a high standard of conduct and then walk down the "primrose path of dalliance" (Shakespeare lingo for "the wild side"). But her language cuts even deeper. She mentions -- by name -- ungracious, hypocritical pastors. She could have just as easily been speaking to many Christians, not just pastors or ministers.

I reflected on our mission trip in Honduras. We were sharing the Good News with the people there. The Way can, at times, be steep and thorny. How often do we turn around, finger still pointing skyward, and follow a different path? Is it because we lack faith? We only wish to maintain a good appearance? We are weak? I'm afraid the answer is "yes." Unfortunately, this trait, this failing quality is the stench that offends the nostrils of so many non-believers.

How then can we proceed? I preach primarily to myself here (but you get to listen in). We must live before we speak. We cannot speak in hypotheticals but in reality and out of true experience. Practice, then preach. We need to discover what we believe and put it into everyday practice. Then, and only then, can we offer our hand to our fellow man or woman to join us on that steep and thorny way. Together, we can make it.

Behind...

I'm already behind.

It's only January 30, and I'm behind. I made some resolutions that involved running and blogging, but I've fallen behind in both. But the reason is worthwhile. I spent a week in Honduras last week on a mission trip with a group from my church. I had planned to blog frequently from there, but apparently one cannot access www.blogger.com from Honduras. (One also cannot visit google.com but are instead redirected to google.hn -- Google Honduras)

As for the running, we were too busy, too tired, and too afraid to venture into the streets of Tegucigalpa in order to run during the week.

Some posts from my experiences in Honduras are forthcoming. But I recognize that I am behind...

Late night blog amidst the snow and ice

As I sit at the keyboard on the wrong side of midnight waiting for my sleeping pill to enact its intended effect, I listen. I hear the whoosh of flying snow. I hear the spatter of frozen rain upon my window pane. And I think of this: running is a metaphor for life. I weakly feign surprise when you tell me this is an overdone cliche. But just because something is cliche does not mean it is not true.

Having run the Rocket City Marathon several weeks ago as our last big event of 2010, my friend Terry and I swore off full-length marathons for awhile. (In guy-speak this could mean anywhere from next week to never again) But we did agree to run (with perseverance -- fingers crossed) the Mercedes Half Marathon on February 13, 2011. But how would I handle the transition from one race to the next? Only by reflecting on what I had accomplished (and not) before turning to what I hoped to accomplish in the future.

Looking back, my whole goal was to run the marathon in under 4 hours. But I put some caveats in my training. I only wanted to train 4 days a week. I only wanted to run 500 miles in 18 weeks (unlike the prescribed 600). I didn't want to do speedwork on the track. But I still thought I could make my goal. So what did I do? Did I set myself up for failure? No, I set my self up not to meet my goal. This was not a pass-fail experience. I was shooting for a sub-4 marathon; I ran 4:03. That's not a failure; that's a B+. I did very well for me, compared only to me. The years before 2004 when I did not run or bike or otherwise engage in physical activity -- those years were failures. The years 2005-2008 when I gave up running after a marathon -- failure.

The surest way to failure is not to set out to do the thing that you are supposed to do, that you need to do. So, we see that setting out to do something is the first blow against failure. Once in motion, we need to "count the costs" of our goal. The goal of a sub-4:00 marathon requires a certain number of miles and training sessions. Balancing these requirements with the desire to remain injury-free lead me to the decision to go light on the training. Don't get me wrong -- I put in plenty of miles, and time, and early mornings. Just not enough.

So, what's the point of all this? To self-flagellate over missing a time goal by three minutes? No.

• Did I have a goal? YES
• Did I pick the correct goal in the first place? Was it reasonable? Yes, I think it was.
• Having picked a reasonable goal, did I do enough to meet my goal? No, I think not. I could have done more to reach the goal.
• Am I disappointed with the result? No, not at all. I came close to meeting my goal. It is likely the best I could have done under the circumstances.

Do you realize that I haven't been writing about running for awhile now? This is life. This is school. This is work. This is your relationships. This is your spiritual walk.

So back to running...Terry and I used the recent Red Nose Run as a tune-up for the Mercedes which is in 5 weeks. We pushed it hard, but not too hard. We did well for us. I set a new PR (personal record) in the 10-miler. And we ran a pace that would allow us to break our Half marathon records again...Hey, that sounds like a good goal.

A last bit of advice: don't set your goals too high such that you never meet them...or too low such that you always meet them.

Resolutions

Wow, it's been over a year. Fifteen months to be exact. Too long between blog posts. I've done plenty of micro-blogging (Facebook and Twitter), but nothing that requires any prolonged thought and effort. So, the question is "why?" Why have I not blogged in so long? I want to blog. I want to become a better writer. I want to learn from my experiences and my mistakes. One of the best ways to do that is to stop and examine them. But do I really want to do this? Maybe some part of me does not want to take a look inside. Maybe I'm afraid of what I'll find. Maybe I'm afraid no one will care.

So, I've made some resolutions. Original, I know. But here they are:

1. Study the New Testament. In 2010, I read through the Old Testament using the One Year Bible. I discovered (and re-discovered) many things in my reading. But I did not take the time to really study and reflect. I plan to dwell on the Scriptures. This may take more than 1 year; if that's the case, so be it.

2. Run 1000 miles. To a non-runner, this may sound crazy. But last year, I ran 988 miles. I racked up most of those miles (almost half) in training for my marathon in December. But my running was spotty in late spring and summer. My goal is to be more consistent this year. 1000 miles / 50 weeks = 20 miles per week (allowing for two weeks off). I tend to slack off on my running if I'm not training for a race...which leads me to my next resolution.

3. Run 6 Half-Marathons. I ran 3 half marathons and 1 full marathon last year, so this is only a slight increase. I should always be training for a race without the stress of a full-length marathon.

4. Blog at least once per week. Perhaps Resolutions #1-3 will provide plenty of material for regular blogging. In fact, I know they will. Its just a matter of transferring my thoughts from mind to page.

Feel free to hold me accountable to these resolutions, by the way. If I don't blog, call me on it. If I don't blog about running, ask me how it's going. If I don't blog about NT stuff, ask me about that, too. There are plenty of cold, sleepy mornings when I do not feel like running. But I know my running buddy will be there waiting for me. And that gets me moving.

Here we go...

More Popular Than Jesus

I'll admit it. I bought Beatles Rock Band the day it came out. I've been a big Beatles fan since high school when I discovered my Mom's old, original vinyl album of Rubber Soul tucked away in our stereo console. I eventually acquired most of their albums on vinyl (not easy to do in the mid-eighties). I read biographies about the Beatles, watched their movies, listened to their songs, learned a few of their chords on guitar, and studies their lyrics. One year I even dressed as Paul McCartney for Halloween.

Given the Beatles renewed popularity, I've been listening to their songs once again. And I still love them. Most of the non-drug-induced songs stand the test of time. But I've also been reading a Christian book by Francis Chan entitled Crazy Love. The book is a call for people to experience God's crazy love for us...and for us to have the same for Him. Somehow on one of my recent runs, thoughts from these two subjects got mingled.

On March 4, 1966, John Lennon was quoted in the London Evening Standard:

Christianity will go. It will vanish and shrink. I needn't argue with that; I'm right and I will be proved right. We're more popular than Jesus now; I don't know which will go first - rock 'n' roll or Christianity. Jesus was all right but his disciples were thick and ordinary. It's them twisting it that ruins it for me.

This statement caused an incredible backlash -- especially in the United States, and especially in the "Bible Belt." Christians were offended and responded negatively. They banned Beatles' songs from radio stations; they held parties to trample and burn Beatles' albums and memorabilia; some even made threats against the life of John Lennon.

A few months later on August 11, 1966, the Beatles held a press conference to address the growing furor.

Lennon: I suppose if I had said television was more popular than Jesus, I would have gotten away with it, but I just happened to be talking to a friend and I used the words "Beatles" as a remote thing, not as what I think - as Beatles, as those other Beatles like other people see us. I just said "they" are having more influence on kids and things than anything else, including Jesus. But I said it in that way which is the wrong way.

Reporter: Some teenagers have repeated your statements - "I like the Beatles more than Jesus Christ." What do you think about that?

Lennon: Well, originally I pointed out that fact in reference to England. That we meant more to kids than Jesus did, or religion at that time. I wasn't knocking it or putting it down. I was just saying it as a fact and it's true more for England than here. I'm not saying that we're better or greater, or comparing us with Jesus Christ as a person or God as a thing or whatever it is. I just said what I said and it was wrong. Or it was taken wrong. And now it's all this.

What was the point of what John said? He was commenting on the sorry state of Christianity (as he saw it). Look at it from his perspective. In 1966, everywhere he went he was mobbed by screaming young girls. Every concert the Beatles played was packed by a mob of ardent admirers. Lennon saw a passionate fervor in his fans, a passion he found lacking in the "Christians" that he met. Was he really that far off?

In 2009, are Hanna Montana or the Jonas Brothers more popular than Jesus? What would a tween or teen say? Lennon suggested that if he had said "television" was more popular than Jesus instead of the "Beatles" then he would have gotten away with it. What if, instead, we inserted "college football" or "video games" or "golf" or "shopping" or whatever? How many things are we passionate about? How many things are we more passionate about than God? Would we drive several hours just to be with 90,000 other people for a 3 hour church service? Would we yell and scream and really show our passion? Would we take our entire family to a magic kingdom where we served God instead of ourselves? Would our joy come through? Would we put as much effort into worship as we do into having fun?

Now, I'm not saying we can't enjoy college football or Disney World. But reading Crazy Love, I find myself to be "thick and ordinary." I lose my focus. My sense of priority gets distorted. I need to be more aware of what is important to me. I need to -- as they say -- keep the main thing the main thing. I need to ask myself these questions: "What do others see as my passion? Is there anything to me more popular than Jesus?"

This Is Your Life

I awoke on Saturday morning in my hometown of Lynchburg, Virginia with the anticipation of the day ahead. It wasn’t just that it was my birthday; it wasn’t even the fact that was turning 40 (that’s a subject for a different blog). Specifically, I was looking forward to my morning run. I’ve just begun training for a marathon in November, and this was to be my first official “long” run. Earlier in the week, I mapped out my route on Google. I picked my route according to what would be safe and flat. But as it turns out, I was to encounter much more.

My wife, Tracy, joined me on the early morning run. It was cool and sunny and perfect. As we glided down the sidewalks, I began to point out some sites and the significance each held for me.

We passed a small realty office that used to be a barbershop run by a friend and tennis partner of my Mom, Bill Worley. Bill had an infectious smile and a lively cackle of a laugh. He was very nice to me as a kid.

Almost next door to the barbershop was the home of Paul Litaker, a grade school friend, where I spent many an afternoon playing in the creek and the woods. We used to dig up clay from the creek and play Star Wars in the woods.

Soon, we came to the church my family attended during middle school and high school. It is a small Methodist church. I had some of my first spiritual experiences here: candlelight services on Christmas Eve, playing handbells, following along with the liturgy. In my head, I replayed scenes from youth group. I recalled weddings that I had seen and in which I had sung. On we ran.

Across the golf course recently closed due to the recession, we saw the home of my high school friend, Belinda Washington Anderson. It is a big, beautiful white house. I spent many evenings there with high school friends watching movies and playing games. My college roommate, John, and I once snuck into their backyard to go swimming while they were out of town.

Not too much farther along was Virginia Baptist Hospital. As we ran by, I commented to Tracy that I had been born there 40 years, 4 hours, and 20 minutes earlier. Neil Armstrong and his crew were halfway to the moon. How fitting on my birthday to pass my birthplace.

As we continued on our run, we greeted the other runners and walkers. We savored the cool air and brightening sky. We talked and laughed.

Next we came across the road to the apartment where my family lived when I was born. I don’t remember it: we moved when I was 1 or 2. But apparently we had a Saint Bernard named Mooch. He liked to eat cottage cheese.

A few hundred yards later, we came to the road leading to the home of our family friends, Steve and Susan Cox. Steve was my high school choir director. He taught me almost everything I know about music. He got the most out of my mediocre singing voice. Susan is a very good friend of my Mom who has been there in the bad times. I am thankful for Steve and Susan.

It was almost time to turn around and run back. But I had one more stop on my tour. Just before reaching the downtown area was the road to the house of my old baby-sitter, Eloise (pronounced “E-Lois”). Eloise was a second mom to me from infancy to kindergarten. She took care of several children in her home. She taught me (made me) eat vegetables. She and her husband, Wilfred, taught me to play chess. That’s right, chess. Wilfred introduced me to comic books – the Hulk and Fantastic Four and Thor. I recall drawing superheroes at the dining room table. I recall a wooden paddle wrapped in tape. But most of all, I recall being loved.

As the last of these memories flashed across the screen of my mind, the halfway point had been reached. I was ready to return and contemplate all these remembrances again. But instead, I felt more focused on the present and the future. I wanted to get back to my Mom’s house to see our kids. I wanted to celebrate my birthday. I was looking forward to the trip ahead.

It is useful to understand where you have been and to comprehend how you arrived at your current location and situation. It imparts perspective. But perspective is only truly useful if it is used to look forward.

I wonder what lies ahead in the next 40 years.