Doing Things I Cannot Do

Barton Springs last week

Learning to swim these past 3 months has been difficult enough for this not-so-much lover of water. And open water swims? That's a whole new level of terrify. All I can think about as I stand on a lake shore is how there is no escape route. I can walk anytime when I'm tired of running, and I can slow my cadence if a hill is killing me on the bike. But I will D-I-E (perish, I tell ya') a horrible death if I get too tired of swimming. I'm a little addicted to living, I really am, and I have no desire to die in that horribly claustrophobic way. I'd rather fall out of an airplane and splat on concrete.

So, here I am, with a solid resume of 42 years of water phobia under my belt, still plugging along at TRIathlon training. Why, you ask? I'm not so terribly sure, except to say that I believe that I should. Nobody would fault me if I gave up swimming tomorrow, and I know that. You'd all understand. We all have insecurities, anxieties, and even phobias, and we should give each other grace for them. 

A funny thing happened on the way to my first marathon, though. I became bolder. With each difficult thing I did, I was emboldened to do more difficult things. The physical gave way to the spiritual. As I strengthened my body the Spirit strengthened within me. I have always said that I would never do triathlons because of that darn swim part. So after the marathon, guess what I decided to do?

With this new emboldened feeling, I wish I could report to you my massive successes in open water swimming. Um, no. I'm inching towards getting better, but I still tense up completely. I can't make it 50m in open water without holding on to a swim can and breathing like Godzilla was on my tail. I seriously need some sort of hypno-psycho-behavioral-therapy. Anybody got suggestions?

Last week, I started back to open water swimming (at Barton Springs) after a 2 1/2 week absence. I stood in the shallow water for what seemed like hours, talking myself into diving in. Oh my goodness, it was not easy for me to start up again. I'm sure the lifeguards had some sort of walkie-talkie "code-yellow" action on my bright pink swim cap standing there. "Swimming poser with a look of terror detected in yonder pink cap. Keep your eyes peeled for her," is what I imagine them to say.

And like in marathon training, I told myself, "Ain't nobody gonna swim this for you. YOU. Have. Got to do this." (Seriously, that's exactly what I tell myself. The bad grammar double-negative stuff just gets it through my brain more quickly.)

So, I dived in and took MY leap of faith.  So what if I stopped every 10m to hold on to that God's gift of a side-bar? I dived. ;)

The long-awaited rains have fallen hard upon the thirsty ground
and carved their way to where the wild and rushing river can be found
And like the rains I have been carried here to where the river flows, yeah
My heart is racin' and my knees are weak as I walk to the edge
I know there is no turning back once my feet have left the ledge
And in the rush I hear a voice, it's telling me it's time to
Take the leap of faith
So here I go

I'm diving in
I'm going deep
In over my head I wanna be
Caught in the rush
Lost in the flow
In over my head I wanna go
The river's deep
The river's wide
The river's water is alive
So sink or swim
I'm diving in
I'm diving in

There is a supernatural power in this mighty river's flow
It can bring the dead to life, and it can fill an empty soul
And give a heart the only thing worth livin' and worth dyin' for, yeah
But we will never know the awesome power of the grace of God
Until we let ourselves get swept away into this holy flood
So if you'll take my hand, we'll close our eyes and count to three
And take the leap of faith
Come on let's go


("Dive" by Steven Curtis Chapman)


I'ma going in. See you in that crazy water. 


How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are?  ~ Satchel Paige

For Sheila

Almost every significant person in my life has shared a word with me at some point that has been like a ray of heaven breaking through clouds. Their words, whether they realized it or not, were the perfect advice, encouragement, or kick in the rear I needed.  These stored sound bytes are like apples of gold in my memory.

My sister-in-law, Sheila, was one such person who left an indelible word for my life. She passed away last week after a long battle with cancer, and she was one of the sweetest women I have ever met.  Her smile was infectious.  I can close my eyes and hear her laughing. However, there was no doubt she was going through a lot of stresses and struggles a few years ago when she told me, "It's been really rough lately, but I'm trying to remember to guard my heart and not let the root of bitterness get in."

And like that her words became seared in memory. Guard my heart. Proverbs 4:23.  I knew that verse, but hearing it again was so very aptly timed.  Whether Sheila knew it or not, that's just what I needed for just that season and in just that way.

Anyone who knows me well knows that I have had a very large struggle with my faith in the past few years.  So much so, I questioned whether I even believed in God. I can't quite convey what it's like to go from belief to the edge of unbelief, but it's akin to teetering on the precipice of a monster black hole inside a monster galaxy inside a universe. It's beyond lonely, and I did not like it, not one little bit. But my mind kept circling there on that precipice with great wings of disappointment, disillusionment, and disgust.  During that time (a few years?), I rarely ever prayed.  I just couldn't get it out. On the few occasions I did, I prayed only two things: Lord sustain me through this and please help me guard my heart. Sheila's words from God, and that's it.

God is merciful. Slowly, but surely, the acorn buried deep in the snow, took root and began to grow.  Even now it's scarcely a seedling, but it rejoices in the spring because it knows winter. I don't ever want to return to that precipice, but I'm grateful beyond measure that I was there.  And I'm grateful beyond measure for a beautiful sister-in-law who became my conduit to God.

Yes, this is a quasi-running blog.  A marathon preparation blog at that. Since the moment I began training, I knew I wanted to dedicate my 26.2 mile race to Sheila. Every time I pulled out of my driveway at 6:25 on some cold Saturday morning for my long run, I thought of her. Every mile of aching injury I'd feel, I'd be reminded of her painful struggle with cancer. To the end, she fought the good fight, she saw the prize set before her, and she finished her race.  She won. A marathon is the representation of life. I have such peace that I'm truly living life as me, and I believe Sheila did too.  And that's contentment right there.

I run because I'm happy,
I run because I'm free,
For His eye is on the sparrow, 
And I know He watches me.

 I try to remember that passion looks like craziness to those who don't share it.  ~ Jan Stuckey (my mom)

The power of a question

Fortunately, Nutella needs no questions.  Bliss in a jar. :-)

I vividly recall sitting in church about a year ago. I was on a back row by myself (John was playing on the worship team), not in the mood to be around people, dealing with some sort of struggles (who isn't?); and I was feeling mightily annoyed that my husband felt obliged to be there every dadgum Sunday of the year.

Sunshine and light, I was not.

Suddenly a question was posed in my mind:  Are you not fortunate and privileged to worship where, when, and whom you please?

{contemplation, introspection, prayer}

You can imagine how the service ended.  It ended well.

I've been thinking about the power of questions lately and the life-altering usefulness they've served life. Just last night, I was walking dogs with my neighbor, Kris, and we talked about our kids getting older. She has a crazy schedule juggling a full-time job, a 6th grader, a high school senior, and a son in graduate school.  Not to mention trying to train for the Austin Distance Challenge.  She said she asked herself recently, "Will you prefer it when the kids are grown and out of the house?"

I've found questions to be so useful, I've made a conscious decision to try, T-R-Y to use them in circumstances where I find myself feeling burdened, superior, or finger-pointy (which is all too often).  Man, those questions have called me out.

"You think a few B I L L I O N people would like to trade places with you?"

"Under the same circumstances, how would you have behaved?"

"Fallen short much?"

Have questions cured my world-class ability to judge, compare, complain, or wallow? (See, that's a good question.) Um, no. I still fall short, but they help.

People talk about "finding the right answers", but I'd venture to say there's plenty of good to be gleaned from finding the right questions.  If you're like me, I often know the answer; it's the question that I need.

Can I bring this back to running?  I sure can.  Because as I've said before, a marathon is a lot like life. These are the things I have to ask myself on a weekly basis:

"Who's going to train for this race if not you?"

"What is your purpose in training for the marathon?"

"Your hip is hurt, and you're devoid of sleep.  Who wishes they could move their legs and have your problems?"

Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? ~ Jesus

Of Hills and Children

Random musings from the week:

1.) Ran the "Road to Hell" course with Rogue last Saturday. It did not go well, and it was not because of the hills.  Only got 5 miles in because of a lovely disorder affectionately called:  IBS. 

2.) I continue to run early Tuesday and Thursday with Cedar Park Road Runners.  Early means 5:15 a.m.  And did I mention it was 5:15 A. M.?  The good news is: Ain't nothin' gonna interfere with 5:15, and it's only 85 degrees at that time of night/day.  Let's focus on the good news. 

3.) I officially signed up for a marathon training program (yay!).  Tough Cookies it shall be.  I'm excited and somewhat scared. 

4.) Hills are one of a million things that keep me humble.  I have never gotten to the point where I say, "Wow.  Hills are easy."  Nope, they're rough, and I never love them.  I ran a 1/2 mile major hill behind my house two times Tuesday (at 5:15 A. M.  This homeschool, stay-at-home-mom can't emphasize that enough.  I need laurels and accolades. Bold and italics won't work.). It nearly killed me.  But I must train for them, and (as my husband would profoundly say) there it is. 

5.) My kids started school last Wednesday.  Blood, tears, and dollars go to their school, and I wouldn't have it any other way. This slightly obsessive mother has searched high and low, and no other school has been been a better fit for us than Veritas Academy.  It's worth its weight in gold, and I am grateful.  Seriously.

6.) My most permanent address is: Mazda CX-9.

7.) I'm also grateful to not parent alone.  This week alone would have done me in had I not had the support and help of my husband. Hats off to those of you who do. You have my highest respect.

8.) Parenting my children is the most humbling, most honest endeavor I engage in. My faults are thrown back at me, love is refined, and God shows up in the most ironic places possible.  Just when I thought I had a handle, God says, "Nope. I'll show you." Which leads me to...

9.) God has shown me two things this week, for sure.  Running keeps me humble. Keep doing it.  Parenting keeps me humble. Keep doing it.  Neither are especially easy. Keep doing it. 

10.) Okay, God, let's do it. 

Be kind to everyone you meet, for every person is fighting a great battle. ~ St. Ephraim

Commitment

In all my running wisdom, with a half-marthon in November and a (first, Lord willing!) marathon in February, I've decided it was time to "up" my running routine.  So, this morning I met with a group of runners to run intervals on a local track.  Intervals are the (relatively) easy part.  The time of day?  Not so much.  What was difficult was the meeting time: 5:15 a.m. Now, 5:15 a.m. is usually closer to when I go to bed than when I wake up.  To say I'm not a morning person is an understatement.  But I did it. This morning I woke up at 4:50, picked up my neighbor at 5:05, and was huffing and puffing on the track by 5:20.  Whew, that even hurts to write. I wish there was an award for that kind of dedication. I'm all for accolades. :-)

As I was making my zombie rounds on the track this morning, I reflected on the past days' thoughts about my upcoming anniversary.  In about a week I'll be married 22 years.  More than half of my life.  (That does not hurt to write, thanks be to God.) In reflecting about my marriage, the idea that keeps coming up in my mind is:  commitment. Commitment to keep my vows.  Commitment to see it through.  Commitment to guard my heart.  Commitment to forgive.  Commitment to love.

Lest ye be decieved -- my marriage is not the stuff of Hollywood.  It's the real deal. Roses and warts. Feelings are fleeting, but commitment in marriage has produced an abiding joy that I treasure more than I could have imagined in August 1989. C.S. Lewis has a book titled Surprised by Joy.  I loved that book, and I understand that.  My life's title would be Surprised by Commitment. 

To bring it full circle (oh, how I love colons): marathons are like life.  No one bakes a cake for waking up at unholy hours to train.  And there are no laurel wreaths for years of commitment to a spouse.  My reward is to know it's right and best, and that's the best sort of peace.  I've committed and I'm going to see it through, to the best of my ability. Both marathon (short-term) and marriage (life-time).

I love you, Mr. Husband!

Don't use words too big for the subject. Don't say "infinitely" when you mean "very"; otherwise you'll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite. ~ C. S. Lewis