Athlete? No, just a runner, thank you.

   I started running while in college. I was encouraged by my friend Al, who as a ROTC student was required to do these "PT" test deals. So every once in a while he would say, "We gotta go run, PT next week!" and we would go. Starting at the Freddy dorm on the SMS campus, we would make a 3 mile loop around Phelps Grove Park, and would come to a wheezing finish. I waited for Al to do other physical things, like push ups and hand over hand ladder deal. None of which I could or wanted to do.
   I am not an athlete. In high school I was the asthmatic student basketball manager who washed and carried uniforms and kept stats. I didn't particularly like athletes, but I did like watching cheerleaders...but I digress.
  Later as an adult I discovered that if I paced myself and used an inhaler (I know steroid enhancement) I could walk and then run. I started running the 1 mile to work. In my small hometown, I was viewed as "weird". The only sports our school had were basketball, baseball and volleyball. To each of which running was punishment, not training.  Finally the school added track and cross country, but by now I was a full grown man, running around and biking, that was just not right (this is the 1970s').
  One year at the local fall festival, the cross country coach put on a 5k. I think there were 15 people. I finished 3 or 4th, I think, second adult behind the coach and way ahead of all the old athletes who thought it was a stupid thing anyway. So there athletes! Ha!
  Then I started running to relieve stress, 5 miles 1 or 2 times a week. This helped me keep my mind clear.
  Then I changed jobs and moved my family to a strange place (Kansas) met another guy who ran to relieve stress and have been being weird ever since (1987).
  When people find out that I run, many are in awe (well, maybe astonishment) that I am an athlete. I remind them I am not an athlete, I'm just a guy who runs, not a lot, not fast, and for sure not smart.
  But they insist that compared to the average person, I am an athlete. So, okay, whatever you want to call me.
  My view of an athlete is someone who follows a plan to get better. Me, not so much.
  I just run. I follow my own path. I don't stretch. I don't eat right. I don't go to races to win. I don't run everyday. Heck, sometimes I don't run in a week. I buy cheap shoes. But that's okay for me, 'cause I'm not an athlete, my paycheck doesn't depend on my performance, only my mental state.
  So if you see me at a race,I don't really want to share what my expected finish time is, finishing on my feet in an upright position is satisfactory.
And for the record, I really don't have a desire to run 'til I puke, ever.
And don't forget that running is more that racing, and competing. Running is what "idiots" do for fun. If it ain't fun....you must be an athlete.

Peace, my friends!

Christmastime is Here!

Another Christmas(time).

Time to anticipate, calculate, meditate, pontificate, hesitate, communicate, demonstrate, and celebrate!

Anticipate: Advent is at the mid-point. What great adventure lies ahead?

Calculate: Check your budget and your commitments. Enough money? Enough time? Enough energy?

Meditate: What's Christmas really about? Maybe a good time to watch "A Charlie Brown Christmas."

Pontificate: Clergy or Layperson: share the Good News of what Christmas REALLY means! If it means keeping Christ in Christmas, does that mean we don't have to think or do anything with or about Christ the rest of the year, just keep him tied down in that manger.

Hesitate: Slow down. Avoid the Christmas rush. The rush to get it over with, the rush to get it all done. He or she who hesitates by the manager is NOT lost.

Communicate: Time to reach out to friends and strangers. Time to make that reaching out a life long everyday habit!

Demonstrate: Show YOUR world what Christmas is.

Celebrate: You know what to do here.......
*cue your favorite Christmas song...perhaps "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!" by Andy Williams, of course.

Peace (on earth) my Friends!

I "Heart" Technology!

   I love technology. Yes, sometimes it is frustrating, and I admit I have very little understanding of how my fingers on this keyboard cause 0's and 1's to show up as letters. The fact that I know it involves 0's and 1's I know puts me far ahead of many in my generation (the mid-boomers). As write (or is it type) this blog, I'm listening to Neil Diamond  (which version of Cherry Cherry is my favorite?) on Spotify, keeping a tab open to ESPN to keep up on the World Series, and thinking that I might watch an episode of the Rockford Files from Netflix via my Wii before I go to bed. Or maybe I'll just read part of a book on my Kindle.
   Born in 1955, I've seen the evolution of all kinds of technology. Black and white TV became peacock color, AM radio was kicked to the curb by FM.  Rotary dial phones replaced by touch tone ditched for wireless, then for 4G (whatever the heck that is!). When I started in sales 24 years ago I was required to check my voice mail 3 times per day. I had to know where pay phones were in every little Podunk town in Kansas, Missouri and Arkansas, some are still there.
  I know I had 2 CB radios in the "70's, when that technology was the rage. You must remember this was still before the first wireless telephone had shown up in any TV shows. Sure, Captain Kirk had his communicator and Batman used a tiny walkie-talkie, both were certainly cool technology. The Star Trek communicator did come to life and I had one, it was called the Motorola Razor Phone, I loved that phone, that low tech....phone, just a phone, what a sad thing. No WiFi or Facebook access.
   Adding machines and manual cash registers replaced first by electronic descendants who in turn have been replaced by computers.I even remember when there were no UPC codes on products and worked in the grocery store in Springfield that had the first scanners.
   Technology is even ready to throw waiters and waitress under the bus by being on your restaurant table top allowing wireless reordering of drinks, desserts, paying your bill and leaving the tip, while your wait staff does something else.
   Music technology is the most amazing. I remember the first record player my parents got for me and my brother. It was a red and white box, 3 speeds. It was portable, the case closed and had a handle. We had records that were current rock and roll songs that my parents must have liked along with some kids records. I remember "Big Girls Don't Cry" He's A Rebel", and some others. As a matter of fact I think those are still in my possession along with other vinyl 45's and albums. We also had a small reel to reel recorder and made several productions of our own similar to the famous Chicken Man shows, with music.
   I progressed from there to 8 track and even had my own Panasonic recorder to make mix tapes of my favorite albums and be able to play them in my car. 8 track players mounted under the dash were big during my high school years. Just to show how technology moves, I have a 1999 Ford Explorer that has both a cassette player and a CD player to help ease through the transition into the 21st century.  
I could go on and on, VHS, CD's,  streaming, iPods, and oh yes Spotify.
What's next? Who knows, I'm thinking that if I"Google" "show me the future" maybe I can get the answer.
You know what, I "heart" Google too! BTW, 7th inning stretch, score is tied 0 to 0. Go Cards!
Peace, my Friends.

Guts!

    Tuesday, an autumn afternoon, the shadows are long along the tree line, the timing clock reads 11:36 as the 25th runner crosses the blue mat finish line in a field along the 4 lane highway.
   The runner a 7th grader, took off at the sound of the gun with about a hundred other boys, 7th and 8th graders. The crack of the starting pistol started  the stampede, and very quickly the leaders, began widening the gap between them and the pack, and between them and the boys who would not even see the back of the leaders shirt again. The boys at the back.
   From the very beginning the gap between the lead boys and the boys at the back gets wider and wider. As the stampede moves out of sight, the spectators surge across the course to intercept the leaders as they come back through the field toward the finish line.
 "Where's the mile mark?" parents ask each other.
Parents and coaches are shouting at their runners.
 "You're 18th, move up, come on now!"
 "Use the downhill!"
"Good job! You can do it!"
" Keep going! Half way!"
The leaders and the first big packs move past, sweating, huffing and puffing, grunting to move forward, one foot in front of the other. As they move, so do the spectators, hurrying to be at the finish line to see who wins, who places and who shows.
   The boys at the back are just now coming into sight as most of the spectators move away. Suffering just the same as those in front, putting out just as much effort as the 1st place, 10th place, 25th place boys. They are not fast, they too are putting one foot in front of the other. They are runners.
   Then, at the finish line the clock reads 9:56 and the pounding of rubber soles on sod fills the air above the shouts of encouragement from the spectators crowding the line.
"Don't let him take you!"
 "Go, go, use your arms!"
 "Almost there!"
"Come on! Sprint!"
   Then, the last big pack is through the finish line, the clock reads 12:46. The crowd on the line disperses to find their runners, they walk across the course.
    But the clock is still timing, waiting for the boys in the back.
"Clear the course, runners still coming in!" shouts the official down the field.
 Yes, they are, the last ones. The boys in back. They are running. Running hard. Their faces are not smiling, they are not slackers, nor are they slacking, they are runners. They will finish. Get out of the way. They will cross in their time. They will not have a DNF (Did Not Finish) by their name, they will have a time. Their time. Some of us realize they are coming. We clap and shout encouragement.
   These last of the pack runners, the 3rd to last, the 2nd to last, the next to last and the very last are not to be pitied. They are to be admired, encouraged and not forgotten. Each one is part of a team, and each one has done their best.
   Iconic runner Steve Prefontaine said, "A lot of people run a race to see who's fastest. I run to see who has the most guts."
  On that Tuesday afternoon, a lot of kids, 7th and 8th grade boys and girls, showed us that they all had guts.
First,  25th or last, they had the guts to finish what they started.
 I like that.
 I like cross country running.
 Guts.
Peace, my friends.

Easter Lilies

I grew up here in the Ozarks. My people are a mix of Scotch-Irish, probably some German and according to family legend Cherokee. My particular tribe were and are hard working people, who make work for a living and sometimes make work, just because they like to work.
We did live in an isolated holler in the hills, but my folks still talk the way their parents did, which to some is pretty hillbilly. We don't say "ya'll"  we say "you'ins" and we also have alot of other words in our vocabulary that we know what mean, but outsiders may not.
And we especially had names for flowers that we all grew.
As I was out this evening cleaning flower beds and trimming bushes I was reminded of how much I love the Easter lilies that are blooming in my garden beds. Now, you may say, Easter Lilies are not blooming in your beds, it's way too early and besides, who grows those outside? Well, Easter lilies I found out later in life, have a fancy name, jonquils. But to me those first flowers up, are and always will be Easter lilies. I don't know why they are called that. Maybe it is because they are usually up by Easter, or maybe it's because they represent Christ risen from the grave, seeing as how by the middle of summer they are completely gone and forgotten then suddenly in February or March they burst out of the cold grave of the winter ground and soon are nodding their yellow heads in the winds and sometimes snow of March. They are tough and they are beautiful and they give us hope that Spring truly is on it's way.
I'm happy that my Easter lilies are blooming. But just wait, soon all the 'flags' will be unfurling their unique flowers too. You know what those are, right?
Peace (and flowers) my friends.

Headline of the Day! Daylight is Saved!

So here we are day 3 of Daylight Savings Time, or CDST or some other acronym. Any body notice that it was still dark at 7am? I really don't get this whole concept. I used to think it made a difference, but now, I just dont' see it. Sure, because it got dark later I was able to get a 4 mile run in after work, actually after 6pm and still get back to the hotel before dark, dark.. But this morning as I drove the hills of 2 lane Arkansas Highway 412 and tried to make sure that everyone saw the stopped school bus and the kids waiting in the dark, I just wondered where the whole idea came from and where the madness will stop.
I know that time is something we believe we can control Unlike the weather, we can direct time. We can direct the sun to come up an hour later and go down an hour later. Right, we have that kind of power, HA!
What we do have is the power to organize our lives around important things and in our culture, time is the all powerful entity we all look to in order to, well, order our lives.
" What time will it start?"
"When you be here?"
 "Are you running late?"
"On time?"
"Check the clock, the schedule, the calendar...."
"When will it begin"( or end) ?
Looking at time as a controllable thing gives us a false sense of power. Although we can make a schedule and stick to it. And we can hit all the target dates for sales numbers, or holidays or attaining any goal, we still do not really control time.
We don't control when our life begins (which is also the countdown to our death). We don't control the time we will fall in or out of love or the time our kids will finally grow up. We can only suddenly realize at some time that our time is running out.
With the clock, we can make the sun obey our rising and retiring time each day, but we can make the days go slower, or longer? I think not!
 We must realize that each day is a gift ( man, is that an overused cliche' or what?).
So what do we do?
How about enjoying everyday as it comes earlier or later, and more importantly enjoy as much of each day as you can with someone special.
It's easy, just take the time.
Peace my Friends!

The Randomness of Spring.

Officially, on the calendar, Spring (with a capital S) is little over a month away. But if you have been by any of the big discount stores, you would think it is time to plant any and everything. The weather on Friday and Saturday were surely harbingers of the solstice to come, but the scattering of all types of weather on Sunday (thunder, wind, and hail) and Monday (rain, sleet, and snow and still the wind) were reminders that we exist in a world that we truly have no control over. The earthquakes are just a huge manifestation of that truth.
Weather is random, it seems, but we continue to forecast and attempt to out maneuver it when we can.
The planning for a natural disaster is not different than the planning for a disaster in a relationship, or a physical, medical or mental disaster. We can plan and calculate, but until the event takes place we really can't be sure we are ready enough.
The thing about all this uncertainty is this, we can be ready by realizing that we must be flexible. Being flexible is following the instructions of the Bible to not hold on tightly to things of this world, and that may even include our own or a loved ones' life. I'm not saying we should just go through life with an attitude that nothing matters because it will all be blown away, washed away or burned. I believe we should be so attached to Christ that when the random storm of the Spring of life or the blizzard of aging hits, we are able to hang on in the gale, not because of our solid rock foundation, but because of our lives being knotted to the cross of the one who died for us. So that in the storm instead of getting washed off the rock, we will flap in the wind, a flag of victory,  as a witness to all who see of Christ who holds us in all things.
Peace my friends.