400 Miles

This past week I've gotten lots of encouragement from well-wishers who apparently read this blog and are rooting for me to do well in this weekend's marathon. It's good to know people are behind me. Most of my training over the past 4 months has been alone. I've enjoyed the solitude as well as the mental & physical challenge of it. Who knew there were so many others with me in spirit?!

By the time I finish the Flying Pig on Sunday, I will have logged 400 miles this year. If I'd been trying to get somewhere, I could have walked to St. Louis or been just shy of Atlanta or Buffalo, NY. That's quite a ways. But this journey isn't about the destination. It's about the process. Pushing my limits. Not being afraid to fail. Refusing to give up.

The weather forecast for race day is terrible. I don't care. I'm walking no matter what. Every step of that 400 miles I have envisioned what that finish line will look like. I've imagined how it would feel to hear the cheers of folks along the race. My wife and family are plotting their strategy to meet me at various points. They may even walk with me for a mile or two. Do you think I'd miss this moment?

I'm ready. And I'm still learning from the process. After I heard another, "Good luck, Andy -- you can do it," it struck me how much encouragement can mean when you're up against impossible odds. When I get done with this race, I'm going to become a cheerleader for people who might be going it alone. I want to put fuel in their tanks or just be there to remind them failure isn't fatal. Being on that side of the ropes is bound to be more fun... and I'm convinced it's the most valuable role I could play.

I'm never going to walk a marathon again. Been there, done that. For me, it's not about goals or times or metals. It's all about the experience. Thanks for taking this journey with me. See you at the finish line!

Earthquake

I talk a lot about being on a journey, which means I'm not there yet but life is always moving. Sometimes I initiate the needed moves. Other times, the movement is out of my control -- like an earthquake shaking the ground underneath my feet. Either way, I try to keep the shifts of life in perspective because it's all part of the adventure.

Mindy and I are staring down a huge shift at the end of this month. Our youngest daughter, Chelsea, is moving out, ...and she's taking Jayda, our 9-month-old granddaughter, with her. She's found a nice apartment that gives her access to school & work along with some needed independence. We couldn't be happier -- sort of.

If I spend too much time thinking about it, I'll cry. It was hard getting used to the idea that my baby was having a baby, but I learned very quickly that being a grandpa suits me. It's different from the love I felt as a parent because now I know how quickly these days go by. Every second is precious. Every giggle or wet kiss warms my heart. I'm no better at diapers (why can't she keep still!), but I'm enjoying it more.

But there's another part of me that is cheering this day. You raise kids to be independent, responsible and courageous. Chelsea has had a steep hill to climb the past few years. Seeing her venture off on her own so quickly makes me proud. Sure, I'm worried she doesn't quite know all she's getting herself into. But isn't jumping in over their head how every young person grows? She's ready... even if I'm not.

Between the free babysitting, home-cooked meals, and a washing machine that isn't coin-operated, we'll still see them almost every day. If I need a little grandpa time, I know where I can get it. But backing off is what they need most from me right now. I love both of them enough to do just that.

Our oldest, Kristin, moved to Charleston, SC several years ago and has forged a new life for herself there. We miss her, but have adapted by extending the boundaries of our love. Our middle daughter, Lindsey, will graduate from college this spring and then marry a terrific guy a few months later. Instead of a loss, we're counting that as a gain.

There are still tears and worries -- and probably always will be. That's what you sign up for when you become a parent. All this movement feels like an earthquake. Despite being shaken at times, though, I'm eager to see what my family will become. I have loved every minute so far, but that can't compare to what our family is bound to become in the near and distant future.

Movement. It's all part of the adventure!


Flying Pig Update: The training (315 miles over 12 weeks) has really boosted my confidence. Got over the hump this weekend with a 20-mile walk. It's all downhill now as my training tapers down over the next three weeks until race day. I can do this.

Lessons From the Pig

Several weeks ago, I hit the wall in my training to walk the Flying Pig Marathon. I've been doing 4 days of training each week. 3 walks during the week are average lengths, and then on the weekend you have a long walk. The distance for each walk builds from week to week. It was during one of my long walks (15 miles) along the Little Miami bike trail that my crisis erupted.

I'd already been walking for 3 hours. My feet were killing me. And even though I was nearly finished with that day's training, it suddenly occurred to me that I had only walked the equivalent of half of a marathon. A quick inventory of the various body parts screaming for mercy assured me I was close to shutting down. How could I possibly walk another 13 miles? Why would I want to?

All of us have days when we feel like quitting. Overwhelmed or discouraged, we throw up our hands as if to say, "What's the use!" I call those days Monday. Ministry is hard work that takes a toll week after week. It isn't the workload so much as the emotional drain of being a leader of people -- some who seem to forget that I'm a "people" too. Working in a grace-filled environment helps, but I've never gotten used to the barrage of blows the Enemy throws at me. It feels like I've got a bullseye on my back, and more often than I'd like to admit, quitting seems like the perfect solution.

Who would have dreamed training for "The Pig" could teach me a lesson about ministry?

As I finished the last few miles of my training that day, it became evident I was struggling with more than just a tired & sore body -- my soul was weary. Quitting is contagious, so I began to dream of how sweet it would be to quit everything. It's not fair. Life is too hard. I'm the wrong guy. It's not worth it.

Time flies when you're having those fun conversations with yourself. Before I knew it I had covered the entire course. Sitting down in my car felt great, but somehow quitting didn't anymore. You see, my mistake was trying to complete a marathon when that day's task was only to walk 15 miles. I'd done that (something to be proud of). Instead of being satisfied or stretched by today's challenge, I was trying to do everything at once. Each day has it's own challenges. Some days you just need to rest.

I've logged 252 training miles to date and still have over a month before the race. I've decided to trust the training routine that has worked for thousands of marathoners before. I may or may not have what it takes to walk a marathon, but I won't know that until May 2. All I know is I can't finish a marathon in one giant leap. But if I concentrate on one step at a time, I'll get there eventually.

Oh yeah... I'm not quitting my ministry either. Some rest would feel good, but I can't let the distance ahead distract me. One step at a time. All I need to be satisfied is a comfortable pair of shoes.

Just Call Me Coach

Sports have been part of my life forever. I used to be a gamer, who was ready to play anywhere; anytime. I remember with absolute clarity the day I hung up my softball glove so that I could coach my daughter's soccer team. It was a dark day. As much as I loved my girls, it was tough to admit my life was going in a new direction.

Who knew coaching would be so fun? Basketball & softball were easy, but to be honest, I barely knew the rules of soccer when I started. I'd never heard of a "yellow card" until I got one my third game for going on the field to help the opposing goalie who was in tears after being scored on. The ref almost gave me a "red card" for asking what a "yellow card" was. (He definitely would have kicked me out if he knew what I thought about his stupid "yellow card" for helping a crying kid.) I figured out coaches didn't have to know everything, just a thing or two more than their players.

I also learned what winning was about. What's the point in beating your opponent? These were games, not battlefields. It should be fun. So, I shifted my attention to teaching them to love the game, to work as a team, to enjoy the moment, to laugh when they messed up, and to eat ice cream afterward no matter what the score.

Somewhere along the line my focus shifted from the game to the individual girls on my teams. Where did they need to grow? What would be a victory for them? How could I make them smile? Watching a player leave the court with an I-did-it-coach look in their eye was worth it all.

Once my own girls got older, my role changed again to cheerleader from the stands. I was warned in no uncertain terms not to embarrass them publicly, yet privately I did my best coaching one-on-one amidst their frustration, disappointment and tears.

It occurred to me recently that my job as a Christian is really just to be a coach. There are lots of things that happen at our church. It's all good stuff, and some folks really get into it. I could spend all my time trying to win that game, but then I wouldn't be a very good coach. My job is to empower people. To prepare them for what goes on outside the walls of church. To help them fulfill their personal calling & purpose in life. To witness that I-did-it-coach look when they engage in the lives of others.

That's a pretty big shift for a gamer like me, ...but I'm loving it. It is so much more fulfilling to invest my time coaching people instead of maintaining an organization. My dream is a church that has an impact in its community. I want to make a dent somewhere. I could never do that on my own, even if I was a superstar. But if you and I could become better coaches, leading people into a life changing relationship with Jesus, we would form an unbeatable team.

I'm proud of my new title, even though I only know a thing or two more than those around me. It's a role all of us should aspire to. Just call me coach.

Flying Pig Update: I'm right on target with my training schedule, although it is getting harder to work in the longer walks each week (2-4 hrs). Got a chance to walk outside last week & it was so freeing. Going to drive the actual race course to get a feel for what I'm getting myself into. Total Training to Date: 133 miles

Cherios

I've hit that point in my life where health issues take center stage. "You've got to be conscious of heart health, cholesterol, and fat content," my doctor says. But I say it's no fun and could be why we put "grumpy" in front of the term "old man" so often. That box of Cherios in our pantry with the cheery label, "HELPS LOWER CHOLESTEROL" used to be another bland reminder of my mortality. But not any more...

Yesterday I had breakfast with my 6-month-old granddaughter, Jayda. I laughed until I cried watching her meaty, little fingers make clumsy stabs at the Cherios on the tray in front of her. On the rare occasions when she actually got hold of one, she'd lose track of it before her hand made it to her mouth. The dog -- Jayda's new best friend -- was having a feast.

When a Cherio did hit home, though, it was sheer delight. Arms waving and legs wiggling, Jayda would gum that morsel with determination. Then, almost a surprised expression as it went down. Finally, ecstasy!

People have told my wife and I they admire our willingness to sacrifice to help out with Jayda. Really, what sacrifice? Our lives are nothing like we thought they would be ...they're much better. I guess I'm supposed to demand my freedom or to loath any responsibility that might tie me down. But with Jayda, every day is special. Every toothless smile melts my heart. Even Cherios are fun again.

Does responsibility have to be a bad word? Opportunity sounds better, but I don't want to pretend there's not work involved. Yet, responsibility gives you a reason to get up in the morning. It solidifies your value and belonging. I know it has shaped my "baby" into a wonderful, strong mother.

If Jayda is an extra responsibility, I'll take it. Cherios never tasted so good.

You can check out Jayda's pictures on a friend's blog:
http://katiegracephoto.blogspot.com/2009_12_01archive.html
(go to her December 2009 post)

Flying Pig Update: The snow has me training mostly indoors. My first long walk (10 miles) went really well, so I'm feeling more hopeful. Some veteran marathoners have offered to help with pacing and race strategy. Apparently, my try-not-to-die strategy isn't good enough. Who knew? Training Miles To Date: 64

When Pigs Fly

I've decide to attempt the Flying Pig Marathon in Cincinnati this spring. If you know me at all and have stopped laughing enough to read on, this is a big deal. I've always loved sports and remained active. I will work myself to exhaustion trying to put a ball in a hoop or landscaping the yard, but I don't enjoy driving 26.2 miles. Unless I'm being chased by something big or scary, I don't run. Well, here's the scoop...

• I'm actually going to walk the Pig. I didn't know you could do that until last year, which is when I started thinking about it. Due to past injuries, my joints can't withstand the pounding of long distance running. Walking works for me, even though it still sounds like a terrible way to spend 6+ hours.
• I turn 50 later this year. If I'm gonna do it, I'd better do it quick. Of all the desperate things guys do to cling to their youth, this seemed less pathetic. It's definitely a last minute write in for my bucket list, ...but why not?
  
• I'm bored with the grind of the gym. After 10+ years of lifting the same bars up and down or walking to nowhere, I need a new challenge. I've probably lost 1000 lbs over that span (& regained 1005 lbs).
• Discipline is contagious. I'm not going to put all this effort into training for the Pig then keep eating like one. I've also seen the boost from my new routine in other disciplines.
  
• The Flying Pig actually looks fun -- apart from the actual running, of course. Who wouldn't want to brag about completing a marathon? And you get a t-shirt!
• I need to attempt something I'm likely to fail. Still trying to sort this one out in my mind, but it's not good for me to always be in control. Don't get me wrong; I've had plenty of failures in my life. I'm just not in the habit of choosing those situations for myself. I suppose it has something to do with pride or insecurity. I'm a competitor who always wants (needs?) to win, ...yet I'm not sure that's how I want to shape my character.
  

So, off we go. I've got a training routine, a new pair of shoes, and a strong inclination that I'll never do this again. Having just completed my latest round of PT on my knee last fall, the likelihood of injury ending my quest seems high. But I won't quit. I'll use this blog to update you on my training miles and experiences. My only goal is to finish... hopefully before they shut everything down and are sweeping up.

I know, coming out with my silly dream increases the pressure. That's the point. If I fail, you might as well know it too. But if I make it, I expect you to be at the finish line cheering me on. You might need a flashlight.

Thank You, Haiti

I've been trying to sort through my reaction to the disturbing images from Haiti this week. I understand that earthquakes happen. Lives are lost daily to tragedies beyond anyone's control. Yet there's something different about what's happening in Haiti. I want to scream, "Enough!"

Our family has been connected with Haiti for years. Various mission trips. Sponsoring children. Building a water tower. Nightly prayers. Bike Day. Sending Christmas gifts in August. Packing meals this past Christmas. Something about Haiti captured our hearts from the very beginning.

I'll never forget doing construction work or wandering the streets of Port de Paix on our first visit with two ever-present, 10-year-old guides, Roman & Wesley. Both boys affectionately called me "Goliath" because they'd never seen someone so big. Neither could be trusted completely.

That same trip, we met Mudline, a shy little girl who we sponsored for years and loved like one of our own. Mudline and Mindy would sit for hours under a shade tree reading together while the boys and I played football in the street. It wasn't hard to fall in love with these children or to pray for a better future.

During our most recent mission trip (2007), we were able to find Mudline and Roman despite not having had contact with them for several years. Now a beautiful, 19-year-old woman, Mudline faces an uncertain future. She flunked out of school when it became too rigorous and her uneducated family couldn't help her keep up. Her flawless English is a marketable skill, but she can't find a way to use it.

Roman, a few years older than Mudline, has already been in prison for drug trafficking. Determined to learn from his mistakes, he was working construction at the mission and scavenging for materials to build his own fishing boat. He looked worn and beaten down. Wesley had died from a treatable disease years earlier.

Life in Haiti is hard. Despite our best efforts and constant prayers, my family was not able to chart a new course for these three. I know we've had an impact, but victory seems illusive. Why can't they catch a break? What have I done to deserve the privileged life I often take for granted? Is it fair that my girls have actually gained more through all of this than those we thought we were serving?

Mindy and I were scheduling a trip to Haiti this winter/spring when the earthquake hit. At this point, we have no idea whether that can happen. I have no illusion that anything I do -- or the combined attention of countries around the world -- will be able to solve anything. The images of truckloads of bodies being transported to mass graves haunts me. What can anyone do?

I still believe in a God who is bigger than all this, and I won't ever stop praying for hope amidst the hopelessness. Haiti's recovery from this will take decades, so there will be many opportunities to pitch in. But Haiti must be more than America's next "project." Maybe it will chart a new course for us. If this experience opens our eyes to our good fortune or prompts us to care about someone besides ourselves or just teaches us to be more generous, Haiti will once again be exporting much needed "aid" to a country whose "poverty" remains hidden.

This disaster is personal. It's so much more than just feeling sorry for the people of Haiti. I owe them something.