What to say...

The focus of the issue around the greeting "Merry Christmas" vs "Happy holidays", in my mind, is often backwards. Some, very vocal, people seem feel entitled to only provide and receive a greeting that fits their religious tradition.  Is that really rational or is it another facet of our "I'm entitled to..." (also voiced as "I have a right to...") culture?  We have this strange belief in certain segments of our culture that seems to hold to the philosophy; if you're not with me you're against me.

Rather than focusing on what I like hear as a greeting, I prefer to consider the greeting recipient's situation. If I know a friend is a practicing Jew I say "happy Hanukkah" because that is what I wish for them.  I know little of the holiday but that isn't necessary for me to wish for them that theirs is a happy one.  My simple wish for them neither carries an implicit endorsement of their tradition nor implies that I care to learn more.  If I know a friend is a practicing Christian I say "Merry Christmas".  If a friend is practicing a religious tradition I am unfamiliar with, I ask for their preference of greetings (or I look it up).  If I am unsure of someone's tradition I say "happy holidays".  I think that is a pretty inclusive, albeit bland, greeting and is appropriate for most strangers in a context the provides no social clues. I'd probably go with "Merry Christmas" to someone I meet at a Christmas tree lot (but maybe not to the check out person).

This is, in my opinion, is the appropriate social norm in the pluralistic society we have built.

I confess, however, that I do get slightly annoyed when someone who knows me well and is aware that I am a practicing Catholic tells me "Happy holidays" because they are uncomfortable with the concept of Christmas.  In my view that is simply being self-centered.  It is, however, only a minor annoyance, like noting any other social faux pas (like a child that presumes to address me by my first name and is not corrected by a parent).  It is, fortunately, a very rare occurrence and not worthy of much mind share.

Thanksgiving thoughts 2016

Today I will focus on being thankful for all of the great people and things in my life.

I'm thankful for my wife (I still haven't figured out why she's put up with me for 28 years), my children (including the wonderful young woman who has married into this crazy clan a year and a half ago) who make me exceedingly proud every day. 

I am thankful for my friends who support and challenge me, accept me and honor me by listening, laughing and sharing some of the important things in their worlds with me. 

I am thankful for my parents, brothers, sister, my in-laws, respective spouses, nieces and nephews.  I am thankful for the times I have gotten to see them and hope for more opportunities.  Cousins, aunts and uncles are included as well.

I'm thankful for my home, and my job, my neighbors and coworkers.  I'm thankful for the people who teach my children, those that taught me (a much more challenging task) and those who, in a less formal way, continue to teach me today.

I'm thankful for the cozy bed last night, the hot shower this morning, the good breakfast and the warm house.  Oh and coffee!  I'm thankful for coffee. :)

...and the list goes on and on.  I need only to look around and pay attention.

I am thankful for my health and for the health of those I love.  I am thankful for my church community and to my Lord who has bestowed these blessings upon me for reasons I cannot begin to understand.

I hope to maintain this posture of gratitude for at least the day and maybe it will leak into the rest of my year.

And So It Begins

My son really didn't date much in highschool.  My oldest daughter mostly hung out with groups of friends that included an eclectic mix of both boys and girls.  There was very little pairing before senior prom, and that was mostly a result of tradition than any strong feelings between the girls and boys.

So it is with some mix of emotions that I sat in the family room with my 16 year old daughter, her sisters and her new (first) boyfriend.  A couple of weeks ago they went on their first date to a basketball game over at BU.  I have to give the guy (Joe) props for a good choice of 1st date venues.

The two of them sit together on the couch.  I check occasionally to see if they are holding hands and, to my great relief, they are not.  Joe is well spoken and engaged in the family discussion.  He shows respect as others speak and certainly seems to respect what Jen has to say. 

I guess that makes me happy to get a small glimpse I to my daughter's taste in boys/men.  So far I'm impressed.  I hope that this process of learning about relationships is not painful, but if it turns out to be, I'll be there to help where I can.

Trip Angst

It's about 6:30 in the morning and I'm on the front porch trying to relax a little before the craziness of the day sinks it's sharp fangs into me and I transform into the road warrior for 3 days of "game on".

At the moment it is neither cool nor warm here on the porch, just comfortable.  There is an almost imperceptible breeze moving across from my left to my right at random intervals.  Its soft motion seems to lift away layers of anxiety and carry them away into the brilliant blue sky.  For now I am drinking in the calm before the figurative storm on the horizon.  

The sun is just peeking around the corner of the house and warming my neck and shoulders. The birds are chirping easily.  There is no urgency to their song this morning. I am doing my best to record this moment in my memory so I can replay it when I feel the stress of the next few days envelope me. Soon I'll leave for the airport and head to to the West Coast for meetings.  

Once there, I'll be expected to explain things that I don't fully understand to people who understand even less. I'll spend the time on the airplane trying to review the material so I am better prepared, but I won't have the command of the material I expect myself to have.  Others are counting on me to guide this process to the right place but I am not confident in where that place is or how to guide it.  I think people sometimes mistakenly associate my ability to speak confidently to a group of people with a depth of knowledge that, this time, I don't feel like I've achieved (yet).  I guess my goal is to make that a nonissue for now.

I will do my best.  I will prepare as best I can and trust that the Lord will give me the wisdom to see the path to follow.  I know others are joining their prayers with mine and that is a comfort.

Time to get moving, to get to the starting line.  I have a race to run.  It's time to put on the game face.

Labor Day Prayer

This prayer began to construct itself in my head as I was running today.  I suppose that to be precise I might have to say that the Good Lord wanted to draw my attention to the beauty around me as I ran and put the prayer in my mind.  Shortly after the majority of the words and structure of the prayer came to settle for me, a small fawn stepped from the woods into the path I was running on.  We both stopped to look at see each other. The fawn took a few tentative steps toward me to get a better look.  I took a couple of steps closer to her.  We were very close, maybe 10 yards apart.  It made me consider that perhaps this was God's way of putting the exclamation point on the prayer.  After a few moments the fawn dove into the woods and continued on her way and I continued on mine.  In retrospect it seems presumptuous of me to attribute the words in my prayer to God's voice.  It is, however, how it came to me so I decided not to edit.   So here it is for posterity.  All I have to do now is remember it for myself.

Look for Me in your labor. Look for Me in your rest. Look for Me in your happiness and in your sorrow.  Find Me in the beauty of the day and in the heart wrenching plight of the destitute, for I will not hide from you. I'm always here, in all things and all places. Seek Me and you will find Me. Knock and I will always open the door.

The Running Journey

I'm considering writing an entry for a contest to get on the cover of Runners World.  One of the entry requirements is a 200 word essay on a running break through moment.  Even if I decide ultimately not to enter the contest, I thought it might be fun to try to write the essay.  Here's what I came up with.

They say a journey of 10,000 miles begins with a single step.  For me it began with a single decision.  In 2007 my doctor looked at my blood test results and gave me a simple choice; exercise or medication for the rest of my life.  At the age of 46 I was unwilling to turn my life over to chemistry.  The doctor recommended a very simple exercise philosophy; breathing hard and sweating for 30 minutes a day, ...every day -whatever it takes.  And so my journey began on January 1, 2008.  In 6 months my cholesterol and blood sugar were back to normal and I was hooked on running.  There is a dog-eared page in my journal that I refer back to when I feel I'm not running well.  It says "Ran an entire mile without stopping".  Over time and with guidance and inspiration from my friends in the Early Air Running Club, my milage increased and I started racing.  At this point in my journey covers a little over 1700 miles each year.  On Memorial Day weekend 2016 I finished my first Marathon.  Running probably saved my life but it took time and it took making a decision.

Wow, 200 words go by quickly.  Took many edits to get it down. It's not perfect.  I could edit it more but I think I'll move on. It was worth the effort though.  It was sort of my version of a crossword puzzle on a Sunday afternoon.

Train Junk

It's interesting to see the world from a train.  Along the way, through the countryside there are beautiful vistas, farms and lakes to enjoy.  then, as the train makes its way though towns you are greeted with a different perspective.

People dump stuff they don't want to deal with behind the trees near the tracks.  Old rusty cars and junk appliances are common.  There is graffiti scrawled across almost any flat structure.  The ornate words and pictures could be the city's subconscious thoughts, unseen and unintelligible to the conscious part of the city but containing messages of frustration and hopelessness that yearn to be communicated.

There are abandoned camps where the disenfranchised and the nomadic wanderers have perhaps stayed over for a day or two before continuing their journey to find rest and comfort.  A quest that, for them, may be in vain for reasons I cannot begin to understand.

Then we approach a train station where appears new and clean. But there is something else.   A cacophony of noise and motion that is invisible but penetrating. There is a weight, a stress, a heaviness of being that comes from travel that is almost tangible in the station.  You can see its weight on the shoulders of people leaving one train and headed for the next. 

Through this thick fog of marginally controlled pandemonium the calm light of simplicity and rest cannot seem to penetrate.  The junk by the  tracks still sit awaiting cleanup, the graffiti grows and colors more surface, the homeless continue to wander and the travelers still carry their burdens.  What makes it this way?

I wonder if God is on a train that moves through my soul, seeing the things I prefer to ignore.  Aware of the junk hidden behind the trees, understanding the meaning of the graffiti that I fail to acknowledge, longing to lift the unseen burdens that I carry and to give me space to rest. 

Trust

View of China Lake 

It's early on a chilly Sunday morning.  I said goodbye to my daughter and her boyfriend, sending them off just a bit ago.  They had get an early start for their drive back to school after my niece's wedding yesterday.  I'm  too awake to get back to sleep so I decided to sit out on the deck and watch the morning develop and think about the last couple of days.

I'm looking out over China Lake in Maine.  I think I am facing south because I can see the reflection of the rising sun on the water to the right.  The squirrels are making quite a racket in the thicket of oak trees next to the deck.  They are like young boys horsing around, chasing each other through the maze of tree branches and throwing green acorns as they run that land on the ground, the deck or the roof.

I can see a young father is walking his little girl along the water's edge.  I wonder if they arrived last night and if the excitement of seeing the water was too much for the little one to sleep through so dad took her for a walk while mom and maybe a younger sibling caught a few more minutes of sleep.

Now it is quiet again.  The calm of the morning has descended upon me. I have a fresh, hot cup of coffee, a warm blanket on my lap and a little better atmosphere to reflect.  I have so much on my mind I am considering getting my computer so I can write faster, but that may defeat the advantage of the tablet.  The necessarily slower data entry creates more space for considering,  maybe a little time for more thoughtful writing.

Jaime and Darrin's wedding yesterday was wonderful!  Jaime, my Goddaughter, ask me to play something at their wedding which I readily agreed to do.  I didn't realize at the time that it was going to be a learning experience where the good Lord reminds me to trust that there is a plan, His plan.

To keep the story a little focused, I'll start by pointing out that Jamie didn't select the song for me to play until about three or four days before the wedding.  I got an email from the music director at the church saying that Where Love Is Found (Dan Shutte) was selected.  Up to that point, in the absence of a decision, I had been preparing The Wedding Song and Gather Us In as options.  I responded and told her that I was unfamiliar with Where Love Is Found, but I had the music and would learn it and prepare.  It was not a particularly difficult song to learn, but there were some interesting intervals that required practice.

The day of the wedding rehearsal arrived and I went to the church with the wedding party so I could work on the song with the music director.  The first surprise was that the  song, Where Love Is Found, I had been rehearsing was not the one the music director had selected.  The good news was that I knew the song she selected (Where There Is Love) and had the music for it.  The bad news was that it is a reasonably technical song and takes some work to do as a duet.  We pulled the music out and tried to run through it.  The short story is.... well... it was a train wreck.  I think both the music director and I had developed personal nuances with how we played the piece that were highly incompatible.  We work on it through the entire rehearsal and continued after everyone else had left.  It just wasn't coming together.  I wished my daughter had brought her flute.  She was more familiar with the way I played the song and might have played along with me rather than having the music director play the piano.  I was very concerned that it still needed work even after working on it for so long. 

I was reminding myself that since we were doing the piece as people were arriving, we might be able to get through it without anyone paying too much attention, when the deacon came up to the choir loft to let us know he was locking up the church.  He asked where in the ceremony we planned to play the song we were rehearsing.  We told him it was planned for a prelude, as people were arriving.  He said to us, "oh no, that will not do", he says.  He explains that the piece was too beautiful to be on the side.  It needed to be done after the vows, in the middle of the ceremony! My anxiety went up another notch.

When I got back to the cabin where we were staying, I told Barb had it had not gone well.  I wasn't sure what to do.  That is when I started to think about trusting God to make it right.  I said a prayer and did some more practicing on my own.  Going to sleep that night, I really wasn't sure what it was going to sound like.

I went early to the church the next day so we could rehearse some more. I think the music director had done some practicing the previous evening too.  Our first run through was much better. After that it improved a bit more.  We left it well enough alone and reviewed other music for the celebration. 

In the end, I'm not sure how it sounded.  I think it was recorded but I have not listened to it.  I don't think it was terrible. I was told it sounded nice, but I can never tell if someone is being honest or just polite when they say that.  It was through the grace of God that it came together at all.  How it came out and what people heard is His domain not mine.  I was reminded that if I do my best to prepare I can trust God to make it work to His plan.  This is a lesson that is always easier to see in retrospect than in the moment.  I hope that this experience will help me to remember to trust in God's plan while I do the best I can to do his will.

Herald of Victory - The story of my first Marathon

Herald of Victory Marathon, May 29, 2016

As I sit here, almost able to get in and out of a chair without assistance, I'm still processing the emotions around my first marathon.  It's a lot more complicated than I expected. Certainly finishing is a positive but when I looked at my Garmin data I am embarrassed and very disappointed.  I know the weather had a lot to do with it but, like I said, it's complicated.

The morning of the race started a bit ominously.  My stomach was a little upset and, putting it delicately, I was in and out of the bathroom a good bit and it was not helping with my hydration.  I suspect it was nerves but who knows, could have been something I ate the day before. I consoled myself with the thought that at least I wasn't in a hotel room. I did manage to eat some oatmeal, coffee and get some Gatorade in me before we left for the race.  This has always been my morning run routine so I took comfort in repeating it.

A friend of mine, Jody, came up from Virginia to run the race and stayed the night at our place.  We left the house, stopped by McDonald's so she could get an egg McMuffin (the thought of which made my stomach turn some more) and got to the start line about 45mins before the scheduled start time.  It was already sunny and warm with just a hint of a breeze.

After the cyclists started at 7:30, we wandered over to the start line, took a couple of pictures and got interviewed by WBNG.  It was already getting warm in the sun, already approaching 80 degrees  I was feeling confident enough though.   After all, I had done a 22 mile training run and had something left.  I didn't consider that it was in considerably cooler temperatures.

I started the race feeling pretty good and I managed to put my earlier stomach issues out of my mind.  Jody and I had agreed to stay together for the first two miles.  At the 2 mile point she wanted to begin her walk/run routine.  Until then we agreed that we'd try to keep each other under control pace wise. So we set out at  about a 9:30 pace, a little slower than my planned 9:15, but very reasonable.

As expected, crossing the Washington Street bridge was interesting.  Only the sidewalk on one side was open.  Everyone kept moving but it was very tight quarters, barely two abreast and I'm not big on small spaces. There was also a natural inclination to speed up like water moving through a venturi so I had to watch the pace.  Exiting the bridge, I heard, then saw, my support team! I was surprised and a little humbled by the size of the group.  Even that early in the race the encouragement was wonderful.  I grabbed a bottle of nice cold water from Drew and we headed into mile two.

Around mile 1.5 Jacqui ran out and gave me a big hug and said good luck.  At mile two, Jody dropped back as planned and I continued on at the 9:30 pace.  There was decent shade along Vestal Ave and I chatted with a couple of people along the way.

As I turned up Lennox and entered the hilly part of the course, the humidity seemed to be increasing and there was less shade.  Along one of the roads I remembered talking with Joanne on a training run about how it could be a pain in the @ss if it was hot on race day because there was no shade.  We were right.  Already there were a lot of people walking up the hills.  I was getting hot, but was still running confidently.  I think my pace had slowed to about 10min.  I was disappointed but knew I had a long way to go so I just went with it.

I saw the Early Air contingent and my family at Vestal Hills.  The water and cold cloth for my neck was well timed.  I got to BU without too much trouble. Coming down through BU I was able to recover a bit, but also felt like I had to pee.  I considered the woods and then the dorms but decided just to press on.  I may have started some dehydration issues. I didn't feel like drinking and having to go worse so I mostly I poured the water on my head.

As I came around the BU traffic circle I saw Bong.  He shouted some encouragement to me as I passed by.  The next few miles are a little hazy.  I think I saw the gang again, but don't really remember clearly.  I remember entering the 201 on ramp and it was an oven.  I walked to the top of it and ran across the river, down around Blessed Sacrament.  That's where Dave Hores (Kat's father) was at a water stop.  I drank a little and started on again.  Dave said he'd meet me on Margaret Street.

I turned onto the Cosmos/Garden route and there was some decent shade.  Right before the hill up to Davis I saw TimR.  I told him my time was going to suck and as he sprayed me with water he told me to forget about the time and focus on finishing.

I walked up the hill to Davis and ran out to Riverside where there was a water stop and a porta-john.  When I stopped to take a wiz I got dizzy and a little disoriented.  I knew this was not good (of course it was like 110f in the porta-john).

I crossed Riverside and saw my family again. After that I don't remember much until I saw Dave Hores again on Margaret and got some more water.  I was carrying Gatorade which I was sipping now along with the water.  I walked up the hill on Margaret to Highland and ran down Highland and WestEnd. Dave was on his bike and he rode along with me on WestEnd for a ways.  I think I started walking a little at this point.

I remember passing rec park, and turning onto Leroy and then turning onto Crestmont, but I don't remember much else until I turned onto Riverside.  It was another steambath.  The new black road surface radiated the heat right at you.  I think I started a more regular walk/run at this point.  I knew I had to do something different or I wasn’t going to finish.  This must have been around mile 15 or 16.  It was at one of the water stops along Riverside that I first got asked if I was okay.  After that, I got that question almost every time.  I think the volunteers literally “had my number”.  By now it was close to 90 degrees.

I don't remember much until I saw my family again at the river walk. At that point a lot of people around me had adopted a walk/run routine.  I came out of confluence park and stopped at another water stop and grabbed 3 waters, one for my head and two to drink.  The cop at the intersection asked me if I was okay.  I must have looked worse than I felt, but I didn't feel great.

We had been running in full sun since turning on to Front, along Court, down the River Walk, up Washington, across Hawley.  Finally turn onto Exchange there was some shade and two water stops in the span of about a half mile.  I was pretty well out of Gatorade and didn't want to take this opportunity to try TailWind so I stayed with water and the last of my chews.

I ran up Chenango to the bridge over the railroad track and walked to the top.  Then I made what was probably a tactical error.  I decided to walk more and try to conserve some energy to run the last couple miles.  I would run a block and then walk 2.  When I ran I started getting dizzy and my legs were cramping up.  I stopped to stretch a couple times.  I was getting frustrated and things seemed to be collapsing.  By the time I got to the park I was pretty much just walking.  I still had hopes of walking in and running out but I knew I needed some fuel.  I was out of GU (I think I lost one on the course somewhere).

Fortunately, Team Early Air was in the park and fixed me up with some Gatorade.  Drew was very adamant that I drink it all.  Joanne took my empty bottles and said she'd fill them for my last couple miles.

The trip through the park was dreadful. Almost no shade.  A few people were still running but the majority I saw were walking.  I got to a water stop and, after the regular “I’m fine” I decided to try the TailWind stuff.  It was okay and definitely picked me up.  I started to run walk a little.  Without shade, I got quickly burned out again.

At the turn I soaked my hat, got some ice and more TailWind.  I promised myself to run through any shaded spots.  There were not many so I continued to walk.  I saw Jody.  She was about a mile and a half behind me headed for the turnaround.  We stopped and talked for a minute.  After the race she said I looked like hell but she didn't see any value in pointing it out at the time.

I tried to run wherever there was shade but my back was starting to have issues.  I couldn't hold my upper body up I started getting muscle spasms.  I just couldn't turn on the juice. On the one hand the disappointment and  frustration came crashing in, but on the other I decided I was crossing the damn finish line even if I was the last guy on the course.

I may have ran another 100 yards here and there but I mostly  felt that I was in survival mode.  I decided I'd dump my hydration belt and anything else I could to lighten the load as I exited the park.  I think that was another mistake.  I saw the guys and my family just before the park exit.  Everyone was still encouraging me and that was an important moment.  I handed over my belt and picked up my walking pace as best I could.  As I walked up the hill out of the park my back tightened up.  I was having a hard time keeping my feet under me. I think the belt had been giving me some back support that was now gone. For the next two miles I stopped every 100 yards or so to stretch.  By the time I got to Boscovs I was holding my back to stay upright.  It was not pretty.

The last hundred yards felt like a mile but I saw Marty and Joanne and Jacqui and Kat all cheering me on and that was about the only thing that kept me moving forward..  I crossed the finish line at 5:48 and was quickly helped to the aid tent for some liquids, ibuprofen, ice pack, icy-hot and a quick check of my blood pressure.

And that's the story.  It's not what I had hoped or trained for but happened.  Everyone was, and continues to be so encouraging I'm managing to see the positives.  It's still a PR for distance and time. Once I can move around again I'll be back to CJ.

I am grateful to everyone for the help with training and support at the race.  It made a huge difference and I’m grateful.

First Spring afternoon on the porch

I'm sitting here on my front porch, dosing in and out of attentiveness to my surroundings.  The day is warm and sunny with a hint of a breeze.  The sound of the neighbor's wind chimes lulls me into a stupor.  Like the feeling of overwhelming sleepiness that can overtake you during a boring lecture or a long sermon, my eyelids get heavy and my mind drifts though random thoughts.  The beauty of today is that I don't have to fight it. I allow my focus to dissipate into the air like the last trails of smoke from a recently extinguished candle. I freely give into the desire to  close my eyes and rest my head against the back of the chair, breathing softly, relishing the rare opportunity to relax.

After a few quiet moments the chatter of the squirrels bring me back to a restful awareness of my yard. There are red squirrels moving in and out of an old bird house hung in the branches of the crabapple tree.   The house has provided a home for birds, bees, and now, apparently squirrels.  I can't tell if it's one squirrel going in and out or if there are two.  The red squirrels are small and active.  The red tint to their fir gives the illusion of youth.  This is in stark contrast to the larger grey squirrel.  They have the look and manner of older, mature animals.  Their movements are more controlled and they seem to carry themselves with purpose where the red squirrels move with what passes for a caffeine induced pandemonium of speed and direction.

In the birdhouse, out of the birdhouse, down the tree, up the tree, back in the birdhouse, all motion without substance.  These red squirrels vicariously exhaust me.  I cannot fault them though.  Perhaps they are as thrilled with the day as I am.  Perhaps they want to do something constructive but lack the capacity to make a decision.  I've been there.  I return to my attention to my nap.  Listening to the windchimes and ocassional chatter from my neighbors in the birdhouse I close my eyes again, breath in the fresh clean air and slowly dose I to a light, restful sleep.