Fall Behind

Finally, we turned the clocks back. I for one am extremely giddy to have done so. Those last couple weeks of October, with their dark, cool mornings, are custom made for sleeping in and lingering cozily under the covers. And sleep in I did! But as each morning unfolded, I would chastise myself for doing it, vow I wouldn't do it again, and then - yep - you guessed it. Now I did not fall behind in my runs, but the rest of the family suffered - late breakfast, tardy school lessons, just a huge kink in our pristine routine. Nothing like sunshine streaming indoors an hour earlier to get me going now! In fact, I'm looking forward to it.

Almost Pleasant

It's been a hectic summer. I haven't written much for a variety of reasons. The main one really was due to networking computer issues that kept me off my laptop. It was just too inconvenient to wait my turn on one of the other 2 computers we have in the house!

I've also felt a bit lazy. The humidity hindered my breathing and suffocated my motivation. If I didn't get my run in before 8:00 am I knew it would be extremely difficult. In this final week of August however, I've had three good runs in a row. The first was solo, the second with my husband, and the third with my son. I was able to go early in the morning, making the workouts almost pleasant.

As the calendar turns to September, I'm looking forward to cool weather, crisp air and a renewed spirit for fitness, movement and fun.

Words of Wisdom

Our Central Texas Summer has been the wettest I can remember in a long time. It has made my running a bit of a challenge. Not so much the rain itself; it’s the humidity - the
nasty cloud of humidity hovering over our fair city. Needless to say, it clouds my motivation. Recently though, I had the opportunity to run with my now 16 year old son. John wasn’t able to get away from his work so he suggested I take my son for a run with me. Neither one of us really wanted to head out; we knew the humid air would consume us as soon as we opened the door.

We were right. As a bonus, the heat radiating off the pavement complimented the thick air quite nicely. I told my son that he could run ahead of me if he needed to. Besides having to deal with the humidity, I didn’t want him to also be caught running in the neighborhood with his mother. He didn’t seem to mind. He stayed at my slower than his pace as we completed our first mile. After another half mile, I announced to my son that I was going to walk for a tenth. I expected him to keep moving ahead. The only thing worse than running with your mother is walking with your mother. But he didn’t. We picked up our gait for another mile and then I felt like I had to walk one more tenth. Not even my beloved Switchfoot serenade could keep me going. My partner however stayed right with me.

We were both happy to finish our 5K. As we walked back to our house completely dripping with sweat, I said to my son, “I feel guilty for having to walk some. I know Satan wanted me to feel like a failure and not be able to run the whole way today. I guess I let him win.”

Not really expecting a response, I was surprised when my 16 year old removed his ear buds, turned toward me and said, “Mom, there isn’t anything wrong with walking a little. The guilt is where Satan is getting you, not the walking.”

I’ve been pondering those words of wisdom for several days now. Guilt is an emotion that plagues me, sometimes for the silliest things – like walking during a run. Now there are times when a healthy expression of remorse is necessary. However, there are also times when we let guilt debilitate us and keep us from living life “to the full.” (John 10:10 NIV)

Take a look at Jesus speaking to Peter in John 21 beginning at verse 15. I always wondered why Jesus asked Peter three times if he loved Him. It seemed a little excessive and annoying. But as I was listening to a CD by Christian speaker and author John Eldredge, he explained it in a way I had never considered before. Of course, Jesus already knew the answer. He knew Peter’s heart. It was asked in triplicate for Peter’s sake. Peter had a huge amount of guilt to overcome and Jesus really wanted Peter to get it.

Do you ever feel that way – guilty for letting Jesus down? Do you linger in feeling like a sinner and not claiming your prize of sainthood through Christ? (Phil 1:1 NIV) Jesus tells us to relax “…I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33 NIV) This summer, when the heat is on, let’s not dwell on our sinful nature and our need for a Savior; let’s dwell on our thankfulness that we already have one.

Things To Do

I cannot believe that May 2007 is over. It was a wonderful month. My boys are finished with school, my husband was able to attend a much needed retreat, and we are getting lots of big projects marked off our "to do" list. I've had several great runs too. My hip is finally feeling better and I'm very excited about that. I'll just maintain throughout the hot Texas summer and then start training for the White Rock event this Fall in Dallas. I've had two friends verbally commit to completing the half-marathon with me so it should be a fun weekend ahead.

As I was working some of the smaller projects off our "to do" list - cleaning the wood staircase - my youngest asked me "Who's coming over?" When I answered "No one" he look perplexed. Later, as I dusted the living room, he questioned me again. I told him again that no one was coming over. He asked "Then why are you cleaning up?" As I pondered this dialogue, I realized that our family has a habit of "cleaning up" only when friends are coming over. We do whatever we need to do to make ourselves look organized and tidy. It's not that we're slobs or anything, we just don't make ourselves a priority. We are willing to go the extra mile for others, but not for ourselves.

While that line of thinking isn't entirely a bad thing, it did make me a bit sad. Our family should be top priority. We should want to stay organized and ship-shape just for each other. And if that isn't enough, we should do it for our Savior, who we invite to dwell in our hearts and in our home. He's a God of order and beauty and since we are all made in His image, we really long for that too. Waste and caos are of the evil one - just one more way to keep us from God. And if order becomes routine, it gives us that much more time to do other stuff - fun stuff - stuff that is enjoyable and exciting.

So I've challenged my family to make clean our routine. We always have a guest invited and his name is Jesus Christ.

Happy Number

Recently, I celebrated my 44th birthday. For me this number held little meaning other than my father used to tell me it was his old high school football number. I’m ashamed to say that’s all I remember. I don’t know the name of my father’s high school, I’m not clear what position he played, and I have never even seen a picture of my dad from those teen years. Maybe that’s why I cared so little; it just didn’t seem real. When I played volleyball and basketball in junior high, Dad always told me, “See if you can get number 44.” Try as I might, it was not to be – 42 was as close as I could get. Oh well, no big deal.

I decided to check Wikipedia.org to see what I could find out about my new age. I’d like to say it was due to my unquenchable thirst for knowledge and understanding, but it was mostly because I was trying to avoid doing any actual work or chores. I figured I could stall about 10 minutes if I appeared busy on the computer.

Did you know that 44 is:

- a poker game
- a name in a Mark Twain novel
- the number of famous running backs in football
(Hey, maybe Dad was a running back.)
- the name of a popular cough suppressant
- in mathematics, a happy number

Since I didn’t understand the technical definition of a happy number (snore), I decided that for me, 44 would have a special meaning. It’s not just a happy number, but also a year of life that I don’t want to take for granted. I want to take time to cherish each day; take time to listen to my sons and pay attention to what they are sharing with me. Certainly I can stop washing dishes for a minute or two as my 8 year old describes his latest Lego invention or my eldest talks web design lingo that is way over my head. I want to take time to listen to my husband and remember that he’s putting in long hours managing his firm in order for me to have the pleasure of managing our home. I want to listen to my body and be proud of my abilities to run and be active. It doesn’t matter that my figure isn’t, and probably will never be, perfect. Most importantly I want to listen to my Savior, who is preparing a place for me in His kingdom come. I want to dwell in His promises to deny any lingering doubt. And, if Dad were still alive, I’d give him a call and I’d let him know, “Hey, I’ve got your number.”

Running Out Of

Time - where has it gone? I'm still here; taking care of my boys, my husband, myself. I've been running, walking, biking - just a little bit of everything. My left hip area is still giving me trouble. I'm trying to stretch, massage the area, some home hydro-therapy, but all I really want is for it to just go away and stop hurting.

Today is one of those "I just can't get going" days. I'll be back when I can.

Food, Glorious Food!

Since I was a young girl, I’ve had issues with my weight. Some of it was in the genes. My mother, at eighteen years of age, was 5’1” and over 200 pounds. Also, my parents were in their forties when I was born. Back in the sixties, this was unusual. It was very much liked being raised by my grandparents. They did their best to spoil me, which in most cases meant I could eat whatever I wanted. No green vegetables for me, I liked French fries and mashed potatoes. If I wasn’t hungry for breakfast, I could eat a couple of homemade frosted brownies instead. The absolute worst “food” I was allowed to eat on a regular basis had to be grease bread. This was the white bread that my mother used for draining her fried chicken. I didn’t care much for the chicken meat, just give me a plate of skin, corn and my beloved grease bread and I was happy, happy. As the old song goes, “Mama’s lil’baby loves shortenin’ bread!” Actually, I think shortenin’ bread is spread straight from the can. Grease bread is the term post-frying. Needless to say, I was an overweight child. Now I know my parents loved me, they just didn’t know much about nutrition and they didn’t realize the damage being done, both physically and emotionally. I suffered mercilessly at the tongues of my peers. Now over thirty years later, I still have memories of their hateful taunts. Satan still brings them to life, trying almost daily to undermine my confidence and happiness.

It took many years for me to eat green foods, broiled items, fruits that weren’t drenched in heavy syrup or pudding. I’ve gone from eating everything fried and overly processed to being a lacto-ovo vegetarian, a vegan, and now finally a flexitarian. I understand that term stands for someone who is mostly vegetarian, eating whole grains and fresh produce with an occasional piece of poultry or fish added to the mix. I guess that’s not entirely true either. Since I’ve lived in Texas forever, it’s a requirement to eat an occasional piece of brisket. I’m not kidding – it’s in the State Pledge: “I vow to eat cow - smoked to tender, juicy perfection – as my carnivorous cravings shall allow.” So, I won’t turn my nose up at a BBQ plate if it’s placed before me.

All in all, I’ve come a long way since my grease bread days. I exercise regularly; running and biking and keeping up with my boys. I eat healthfully; avoiding trans fats, high fructose corn syrup and using as many fresh ingredients as possible. Most importantly, I understand that I’m wonderfully made. I’m a work of art designed by the Master of the universe who looks upon my heart. And in heaven, there will be no cellulite.