They had an exhibit table at the Honor Run at Hart Memorial Park yesterday. The table rep explained why they were there.
I told my husband, “You have a hard job, and you deal with a lot of stress. We understand and are here to show our support and make our services available to all first responders.”
As colleagues in the field, it was a reminder of two things:
Even when you may not think it matters, show up. Exhibiting at a Saturday morning race isn’t fancy or sexy, but it says to the community, “We’re here for you.”
Regardless of working on opposite sides of the country, show support. It took just a few minutes to walk over to the the table and say, “Thanks for being here. It matters.”
Jonah 1:3 CEV Instead, Jonah ran from the Lord. He went to the seaport of Joppa and found a ship that was going to Spain. So he paid his fare, then got on the ship and sailed away to escape.
Most 4:30AM runs don’t make me think of Old Testament prophets. This morning, I might as well have been boarding a boat bound for Spain.
Never mind the fact that a gradual heavier rain fell over the five miles. The connection was a familiar spirit that I’ve encountered many times over my 56 years. I’ve come to identify it as the Jonah Syndrome (JS). See if these three words sound symptomatic: frustrated, angry, and resentful.
The more I chatted and listened to myself, the more I realized I wasn’t the only one in the conversation. If I’m being honest, I told God I felt pretty justified in these emotions. He didn’t disagree; but he didn’t give freedom to let them be an excuse for any actions for the day.
That’s when I turned. Instead of getting cozy on the boat kidding myself that the approaching storm had nothing to do with me, I found myself running from Joppa, visualizing the rain symbolically washing away the potential actions produced by JS. The request became, “Replace these symptoms with patience, love, and purpose.”
Here’s what I know about Joppa-you have a choice: keep running to escape or reverse course. Thankfully, God welcomes pacing anyone running from Joppa.
I was thinking the other day about burdens. Sometimes we know about them; sometimes we’re unaware. More about that in a moment.
As I thought about this, I recalled one of the most memorable images I’ve witnessed while running a race. Believe it or not, it was a runner wearing an Eiffel Tower replica. No kidding.
Frenchman Michel Bach
According to a 2016 article, Mr. Bach has ran in over 200 races around the world. Occasionally he “dons the Eiffel Tower to stand out and embrace his Frenchness.” I don’t recall which race I ran where I saw him (seems like it was either New Orleans or Little Rock), but I was at a loss for words. I believe donning a patch or tattoo of the flag would suffice, but that’s just me.
There are seasons we are well aware of the burdens we have donned. They may have been our choice; they may have been chosen for us. We adjust. We manage. We embrace. When the season is over, we take our learnings and enjoy the lighter season ahead.
Then there are moments where we suddenly awaken to the reality we’ve been carrying a burden without any knowledge when we acquired it. Here’s one that I became aware of a few years ago: Ungrieved Loss. I tell you, that awareness lives out the phrase “knowing is half the battle.”
So how do we wake up to these burdens? I don’t have all the answers to that question, but here are some guesses.
Your last sad moment might be a start.
What causes your heart heaviness?
What’s something you obsess over that is out of your control?
What if you asked your closest friend what burdens they believe you carry?
Finally, name that thing you know needs to be drawn into the light.
You know, Michel might be on to something. It’s possible he dons a burden he’s aware of in order to bring to light one that’s in the dark. Extreme? Maybe. I’m guessing he lives a lighter life than the rest of us.
Here’s to the pursuit of better burden management, the known and the unknown.
Ran a 5k this morning at the 13th Bridge A Life Superhero Race. This was just my second time at this race, first since 2021 when the event included a 10k for their 10th Anniversary.
Each time I run a 5k I ask myself why. It’s certainly not as taxing as a full marathon, but it’s not my favorite distance. That’s for another post…maybe.
After being at the race for a second time, the answers why this 5k are many.
Two: To see what’s possible. Always with goals in mind, I had given myself four lofty goals this week. Managed to achieve one of them: Placed 2nd in Age Group. I’ll take it. (RACE ORGANIZERS: Thanks for including a child’s name on my bib. Thinking of them kept me moving in Mile 3.)
Three: To encourage other runners. Five coworkers also entered the race, and several community partner colleagues were on hand as well.
Four: To be inspired. The oldest male competitor, Bill Welch from Parrish, introduced himself at our tent. He said he enters a 5k every Saturday to support charity. He’s completed over 1,100 races. He’s 86. He took home 3rd place in his age group. Let’s just say it’s going to take over 1,000 races for me to catch Mr. Welch.
Five: To support Bridge A Life‘s vital work in Foster Care. This event brings awareness to the reality of children in out of home care in Manatee, Sarasota, and DeSoto Counties. This year, nearly 700 names were chalked at the start/finish line.
P.S. Great Job, Bridge A Life! I imagine you feel somewhat like I did at the finish line.
Not all Facebook ads are worthless. Particularly if they have to do with running.
We know how it works. You do a search and suddenly ads appear for that and similar items. Apparently I did a search for running socks and started getting ads for toe socks. Somehow in 16 years of running I’d never seen them. Shoes, yes, but not socks. How is that possible?
Anyway, I thought, “Why not try them. If what they say is true, I’m in.”
Guess what? What they say is true.
The product detail for the item in this blog’s featured photo promises this:
The ankle toe socks provide individual compartments for each toe, allowing for better flexibilityand movement of the toes. These men’s toe socks reduce friction, cutting down on the risk of blisters in outdoor activities such as walking, jogging, traveling, climbing, cycling, gym, and training…
More and more, these are the socks I run in, particularly for long runs. My main testing ground was the 39-miles for the Four Corners Quad Keyah Series in December. My toes were and are grateful.
As the product detail says, you don’t have to be a runner to give them a try. If you try them, reply and let us know what you think.
December 8-10 was another three-in-a-row race trip to check off three western states: Utah, Colorado, and New Mexico. Texting with a friend about it, I mentioned I have lessons from the trip. I’ve come up with six that I’ll share in separate posts.
Number 1: Single lane running paths test all the fruits of the spirit, in addition to grace.
Truth be told, I didn’t conduct major research about the courses. I read what was posted on the race series website, which was pretty basic. So imagine my surprise when on the first course right out of the gate we were basically running single file down a rocky, windy path into a canyon. WAKE UP CALL! What in the world have I signed up for?
These Florida legs weren’t trained for this. But more challenging was the mind game going on when I realized I was trapped behind runners whether I wanted to be or not. There was no safe, nice, respectful way around slower runners, better yet, walkers who had no intention of running. That’s a recipe for frustration.
And this was mile 1 of a three-day, 39.3-mile journey. Let the self-talk begin.
In this case, the self-talk was mostly in the line of, “Pace yourself…You’ve got miles to go…Does it really matter how long it takes?…Surely the whole course can’t be like this, right?”
Thankfully, no. The course was a loop course. To complete the half marathon, you had to run the course 3 1/2 times. So after the first loop, you knew what to expect. For me that meant, “Now I can relax.”
First loop challenge: Keep my frustration in check and don’t take it out on anyone. How did I achieve that? I literally had to think less about myself and more about those around me. Were I to be a jerk, selfish, or impatient would cause someone serious injury due to the rocky, steep, windy path we were navigating.
We’ve all been there. Stuck. Frustrated. Surprised. Stressed. How in the world did I get in this position? In those moments, on those paths, we have the choice to look out for those around us or to be all about ourselves. Choice 1: Lean in to how we want others to treat us (follow the Spirit’s lead); Choice 2: Be self-absorbed demanding everyone to get out of our way (ignore the Spirit’s lead).
Choice number one results in everyone staying safe, feeling respected, and enjoying the journey. Choice number two, somebody’s getting hurt-probably a lot of some bodies.
I’ve seen enough and made enough wrong choosing. Thankfully, on this Friday morning in Utah, we all made the right choice. We passed the test and got the medal to show for it.
I enjoy a writer who makes you think, or at least presents something ordinary unordinarily. Barbara Brown Taylor is definitely in this category.
In this second of her books I’ve read she gives you a different approach to thinking about darkness.
One beautiful way she does this is by showing you the value of darkness in biblical stories. She says the night sky was a key player in Abraham’s decision to trust God when he was told to “count the stars.” She spends a great amount of words on Moses’ encounters with God in the dark.
The God of Moses is holy, offering no seat belts or other safety features to those who wish to climb the mountain and enter the dark cloud of divine presence. Those who go assume all risk and give up all claim to reward. Those who return say the dazzling dark inside the cloud is reward enough.
Chapter 2, The Fear of the Lord
As you can imagine, much of the book addresses the emotions that come from fearing the dark. She believes that’s actually an indicator of something going on inside of us.
Our comfort or discomfort with the outer dark is a good barometer of how we feel about the inner kind.
Chapter 3, Hampered by Brilliance
A fascinating approach to her research for the book included cave exploration. With aid from professionals, she spent time sitting in the dark in caves and exploring portions of caves that demanded she address her fears. One takeaway: new life starts in the dark.
Whether it is a seed in the ground, a baby in the womb, or Jesus in the tomb, it starts in the dark.
Chapter 6, Entering the Stone
A spiritual book about darkness is most likely not complete without a chapter on the dark night of the soul. Taylor’s coverage is exhaustive from both sides of the topic as well as from the individual to the communal. The most helpful section was her description of the difference between faith and belief. Sharing about her observations as a college professor, she gives this distinction about questions college students are asking or are being asked:
When I listen to college students talk about faith, beliefs are what interest them most: Do you believe in the virgin birth? Do you believe that Jesus died for your sins? Do you believe that only Christians go to heaven? No one asks, “On what is your heart set?” No one asks, “What powers do you most rely on? What is the hope that gives meaning to your life?” Those are questions of faith, not belief. The answers to them are not written down in any book, and they have a way of shifting in the dark.
Chapter 7, The Dark Night of the Soul
I’ve already suggested this book to a few folks-one running friend who avoids running in the early morning hours, one coaching client who feels distant from God. Whether you are struggling with physical or spiritual darkness, I’d encourage you to give this book a read. See what you learn.
On recommendation, I recently read An Altar in the World by Barbara Brown Taylor. It’s subtitled A Geography of Faith. In the spirit of that lane, rather than offer a review I’ve selected my top highlights and will offer a meditation post for each one. Here’s the final quote:
Anything can become a spiritual practice once you are willing to approach it that way-once you let it bring you to your knees and show you what is real, including who you really are, who other people are, and how near God can be when you have lost your way.
Chapter 5, The Practice of Getting Lost
Chapter 5 is a ride. Taylor takes something bane like getting lost to illustrate her point that anything can become a spiritual practice.
I can’t say I get lost on purpose, but I understand her point. Getting lost viewed through the lens of “maybe there’s a reason” certainly requires some discipline and regulation. What I have done on purpose is take new streets, driving or running, just to see what’s on them. This past Saturday, in fact.
I had an event to attend downtown Sarasota Friday night. Instead of driving home to West Bradenton afterwards, I booked an Airbnb just south of downtown. Main reason: to run the Ringling Bridge the next morning. It had been too long, so I felt like it was worth it. Of the overall 7.28 miles of the run, besides the bridge, I had never ran any of those streets. I purposefully returned back a different way than I had approached the bridge. The two best sections of the run was by the Bay on Mound then through and around Payne Park.
I agree with Taylor. Growth happens when you lean in to purposefully embrace the unfamiliar. And whether that unfamiliar was planned or not, your peace and trust are revealed. Who couldn’t benefit from that?
Now I’m remembering running on some very unknown streets in 2012. That summer I took my first international trip, to Belarus of all places. The purpose of that trip wasn’t to run or pleasure traveling, but to teach ESL classes through a supporting church. Many disciplines were bundled together on that trip; they still bring me to my knees, show me what is real, who I am, and who other people are. I may never forget running in that country. It was spiritual.
What practice of yours, if looked at differently, could become spiritual? Grilling? Baking? Fishing? Painting? Ask God to show you the way. May you find a new altar in your world.
4AM. Not my preferred alarm setting. But you do what you got to do.
I decided what I had to this morning in order to start this day right was to get in a run before having to be in my car by 6:15. After my run around 5:15 while stretching, I found myself taking a longer than usual time to spend some time praying. Very unexpectedly, I got an answer for a prayer I’ve been in for several months, actually most of this year. Maybe that story will come later; but for now, I’m focused on the reality that some prayer answers are a long time coming. That means a lot of waiting.
So it shouldn’t have surprised me that on the same day this answer came an email came to my inbox this afternoon with a prayer entitled “Prayer for the Waiting Time.” It not only was timely, but also affirming.
If you find yourself in waiting time, take your time to read through this prayer by Nicola Slee. These eight requests may be the support you need to carry on, to wait well, and to keep listening.
Give me the resolution to say ‘no’ to the good so that I will be ready to say ‘yes’ to the better.
Give me the courage to keep living in the open-endedness of the future without foreclosing the mysterious work of your Spirit in my haste or fear.
Give me the persistence to stay in the wilderness of unknowing until I am ready to receive your call.
Give me the strength to keep still and keep waiting when all about me is pushing towards movement and activity and choice.
Give me the acceptance to live these days in uneventfulness, simplicity and hiddenness, without craving excitement, distraction, or change.
Give me the grace to live in the emptiness of ‘not doing,’ without the rewards of achievement, fulfillment, or success.
Give me the wisdom to discriminate between my own impatience to move forward and your Spirit’s deep stirring of my spirit when the time is right to move.
Give me the faith to trust in your obscurity, the obedience to stay faithful to your mystery, the courage to keep trust with your inscrutability.
It’s that time of year. Early morning running means mostly running in the dark. And in Florida that also means avoiding sprinkler systems. These days my runs begin anywhere between 4:30 and 6:30AM. No matter what time I leave, if my route includes around the neighborhood somebody’s sprinkler system is doing its thing.
It was around 5:50 this morning as I ran down a block where it’s hit and miss. Some houses have systems; some don’t. For some reason this morning my eyes caught a clear contrast between two neighbors, one with one without. As if the sun was at high noon, there couldn’t have been a clearer sign. It almost looked intentional, as if a hairstylist stopped halfway through the dye job right at the top of the head.
Got me to thinking. It’s not news here that 2023 has started with a rain shortfall. So if you want your lawn green, it’s on you. And that means at least three things:
You need a plan. That may sound like a no brainer, yet somehow the neighbor with the dead grass missed it. How many sprinkler heads, which direction are they covering, when does it come on, how long does it run-the plan can’t miss any details if the yard is going to be HOA prizeworthy.
If you’ve done your job right, you can sleep well. You won’t need to get up every morning at 4 to check it out. It’s like that current TV commercial for tax preparations-“Bring it to us, and don’t water your lawn.”
You cannot assume once it’s working your job is done. Two blocks west from my front door someone has made this assumption. Guess what? Half their water is going into the street. None of the sprinkling shoots out more than three feet. I wonder when’s the last time the system was checked.
These thoughts apply to many areas of life. Marriage. Parenting. Management. Eating. Exercising. Finances. Career. Education. Faith.
John Gregory 