Unexpected Christmas Song

Christmas music has been playing for a while now. Some people have boycotted their favorite station because they began so early. Others have embraced it and can't get enough. No matter where you fall in this discussion, you are probably looking forward to hearing your favorite(s) from now to Christmas.
This week a new album appeared on Spotify, one of several internet listening stations. Titled High Plains Christmas by Phillip Aaberg the pianist collection was loaded with typical Christmas tunes, some that had titles to lend themselves to the album. In all it is a very enjoyable 55 minutes of listening.
As I was listening while reading, my brain picked up a tune that did not exactly go with the theme which it had been following, Christmas. The song? Oh Happy Day! Yes, the one where "Jesus washed my sins away!" I really couldn't believe it so I went to the computer, sure enough there it was. I asked myself, "how is this a Christmas song?" and I had to admit that it does have all the things needed to be a song of the season.
I wondered why I had never thought of it that way. It doesn't have any baby references, no stars, or wise men. So why did Phillip Aaberg choose this for his Christmas recording? I don't know the answer, but I do think, it has a better message than incorporating Three Dog Night's Joy To The World into a medley with Joy to the World by Issac Watts and Handle. No bullfrogs, no fishes in the deep blue sea, just happy days and Christ in our hearts for everyone to see.
Merry Christmas! Oh Happy Day!
Peace my friends.

Running into Blessings.

 I have been running for more than 25 years. Running is a thing and a descriptive word used in our culture. I'm not grammatical enough to go through all the technical ways to use it, but you probably know what I mean, so I'll stop before this becomes to much of a run on sentence.
This morning I've been thinking about running, the physical kind, and how it has been a blessing to me.
I began running  to relief stress from work. I was not and still do not consider myself an athlete or any sort of elite class of person. I'm just someone who found that running worked for me. A way to blow off steam. As I got older it was a pretty easy way to control my weight. These were the reasons I ran. I was not an athlete. At some point someone urged me to enter some races, fund raisers the annual turkey trot stuff like that. I was still just a runner,  because to say I began to "race" would be a very large exaggeration.
These races were a blessing. Here I met people who became my friends and peers. I met Ronnie, who ran by my house every Sunday morning on his 20 mile training run, and told me that if I could run these 5k's I could go farther. He was right.
I met Brent, who became my training partner, sounding board, source of hilarity and who convinced me that a marathon (26.2 miles) would be fun (the jury is still out on that definition).
I renewed friendship with Raul who I knew back in high school. Joked about getting older (slower) with Ted and Clark. I met many other runners who, like me, did not see running so much as a competition, but as a thing they did because they enjoyed it.
Over the years I, like my friends, endured comments about our sanity and warnings of injuries, especially how our bodies would wear out or our hearts would explode. These things did not happen (yet, they would say) and I was blessed to stumble into choosing Rick as my in network physician, he is a runner. I probably get a little more time at those appointments because we share this blessing of running.
About four years ago our oldest grandson, Logan, had been running laps at the fitness center while his mom worked out. He proposed to me that he was ready to run a 5k. He was 11. I found there was a small 5k in my hometown and we ran. I was a little skeptical, but knew whether he finished or not, I was blessed to have this opportunity to run with him. We had a great time. I'll never forget, with a mile to go, I asked him, for probably the fifth time, if he was doing okay. With a big smile he said yes. I said "You like this don't you?" "Yes" he answered, with an even wider grin. A runner was born.
So how does this blessing thing keep running into me? I kinda took an accounting this weekend. Logan, who is a freshman, ran at Cross Country Sectionals on Saturday, and his coaches say he has great potential, and he still likes it!
On Sunday I ran another half marathon (13.1 miles), starting it surrounded by people I know. Our oldest son Jason (Logan's uncle) who ran cross country in high school (even went to state his senior year) was running his first half marathon. We started together,but he finished pretty far ahead of me. At the start line were Shane and Angie, Trina, Matthew, Ted, R.C, Jon, April, LaToya,David and a host of Idiots. There were many others I did not see until after, Jenny, Les, Linda,Heather, Travis, Dave and Helen, Jay and Terri, Theresa, Nikki and the list could go on.
When I first took Logan to a large race, he was pretty bored as I talked to my friends. He didn't understand the blessing of community. The running community is a great one. Now he is known by all these older people, and  with the cross country team he is beginning to get "community/team."
So for me I will continue to put one foot in front of the other and I know I'll keep having these collisions with blessing.
Peace my friends.

The Mysterious Disappearance of Weeds from My Lawn!

The lawn service truck slowed at the end of the block. The routine started again. The endless battle of the lawns. A friendly unspoken competition in our neighborhood, best lawn, best grass, no weeds. Weeds are the enemy. Grass, luxurious, deep green, thickly bladed. The mark of the victor.
  "Got a couple of dandelions there." Gene pointed out. I know Gene, even without his usual name on his shirt. Gene drives the lawn service truck. I see him at Little League games, Kiwanis, sometimes at church.
  "Yeah." I said, "I see 'um."
  Dandelions; scourge of the lawn. Always sticking up there happy yellow faces. Why yellow?
  "Gonna take care of those?" asked Gene.
  "Sure, gonna take care of them." I said. I don't use the lawn service.
  I went to the library and got books on common weeds, weeds that bloom, weeds that creep, weeds that look like plants people like. Wild geranium, bull nettle, ox-eye daisies, dandelions. I Googled plantain, spurge, Russian thistles and Virginia creeper.
  And those dandelions? They spread over my whole yard, and soon plantain knee knockers were everywhere and some ox-eyed daisies had made a stand on the sunny side of the drive. Every week I saw Gene frowning from across the street.
  Last Monday, as I was cutting a path to the mailbox, Gene suddenly appeared.
  "Thought you were gonna take care of those dandelions?" he declared.
  " I did, Gene," I replied, "they are doing just fine!"

(This was an exercise I did for the Garden Inspired Writing Retreat with Missouri Extension specialist David Burton. Thanks for the title David!)

Will You Be My Neighbor?

  At the end of 2012, my career came to an end when the company of my 25 year employment downsized. In the 8 months since then I have been considering what the next phase of life will be.
  I explored some jobs outside my experience, and also began to volunteer. Ozarks Food Harvest is very user friendly and quickly adopted me as a known individual. Here I have been exposed to those who are on the fringe of the world I live in everyday. I also was reintroduced to the non-profit that works exclusively in Nicaragua, The Rainbow Network. During this time I also participated in the One Run For Boston cross country relay. All these things were asking me for time and money for someone I would never really know.
  What kept coming to mind was  Jesus' story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10: 25-37). The question "And who is my neighbor?" kept nagging me. Was it the people at the food distributions? The victims of the  Boston Marathon bombing? The people in Nicaragua who want for a house, job, medicine, and education?  
     Of course I knew the answer. Jesus tells us in the story, "The one who showed him mercy." Jesus said to him, "Go and do likewise." It is all of them.
  In one week in June, I worked at Ozark Food Harvest, ran a leg of the One Run For Boston and volunteered at The Rainbow Network office.
 Within in a couple of weeks,  Regina and I found ourselves planning for a trip to Central America. Nicaragua, to be specific and not exactly a vacation. It was, I hesitate to use this term, a mission trip. How did that happen.
  Mission trip often conjures up visions of going to a place where you are totally inconvenienced by the location. You know, sleeping on the floor of some church, no showers, working hard everyday for and with people who don't have the will or means to do what you can do. You do it for 3 or 4 days or a week, and then you come home and everybody either says what a saint you are or wonders why those you went to help can't do it themselves. It can be really awkward, because it is neither of those, and there's no way to explain it.
   We didn't have it rough, we stayed in hotels and had showers and hot food, but we did work hard!
   Regina was on the medical team with 15 other people and they traveled to rural areas where they conducted clinics in schools and peoples homes. They worked with the six Nicaraguan doctors that work for Rainbow Network. Communicating via translators, they traveled to some very remote areas where they dispensed medicine, listened to peoples' complaints and were amazed at the resilience of people who have lived poor and oppressed for so long.
  I spent my days helping build houses.When I say helping, that is exactly what I mean.
  The Rainbow Network has been at this for awhile and make no mistake, the Nicaraguans were in charge and they know what they are doing. This is not mission work of directing and supervising, no way, this is Americanos (what we were told by the Nicaraguans to call ourselves, not gringos) lending a hand.
  We did grunt work, literally. All of us. Americanos and Nicaraguans. Together.
  We dug holes, grunting to drive the rock bar deeper to break up hard pan clay was necessary or to throw a shovel full of dirt up and out of the hole.
  We grunted moving hundreds of  concrete blocks fire brigade style up the bank to the house site.
  We grunted sifting sand and carrying 5 gallon buckets of cement up the bank to pour footing and foundations.
  We grunted tying wire time after time on re-bar to make reinforcement for houses.   We grunted,we sweated, we became tired and silly sometimes.
   So we laughed. Together.
  We laughed about not understanding each other.
   We laughed about getting soaked in a rainstorm.
   We laughed at threatening goats and stupid jokes.
   We laughed and smiled with children who couldn't keep their eyes off us while we watched their classroom.
   We laughed with people who were so happy to get a micro loan to keep their business open, or build on their house.
   We laughed with translators who thought we were silly.
   Then as we were leaving, we prayed with these people that God loves.
    We prayed for their new homes.
    We prayed that God would bless them.
    We prayed that others would give to Rainbow so more could be done.
    We prayed that they would not give up.
    We prayed that we would not forget them and that they would pray for us.
   And though there were times it made me sad or uncomfortable to be there, it did not break my heart. I thought of Jesus' words about showing mercy. Although in the story it says the Samaritan "was moved with pity." I believe that what these people need is mercy, not pity.
   And so I'm going with mercy, as defined by Dictionary.com:

 "an act of kindness, compassion, or favor: She has performed countless    smallmercies for her friends and neighbors.

  By the end of the week  we had shared acts of mercy together.
  We arrived on Sunday and we flew home on Saturday. I have not been able to stop thinking about Nicaragua since then.
  When we got back Megan Munzlinger (Development Director of Rainbow) gave me a copy of  Meet Me in Managua   a book that tells a brief history of Nicaragua and the story of Keith and Karen Jaspers' vision for The Rainbow Network. Now that broke my heart. I recommend it. Read it before you decide if a charity deserves your support and especially before you go to Nicaragua.
  This week in a conversation with someone who had been on a mission trip to Mexico, the person commented. "But didn't you find the people to be happy?"  Happy? I told this person that I wouldn't say "happy", ambitious yes and seeking a better life. I don't know about happy.
  When I told Regina about this she said, wisely, that she thought maybe it wasn't so much "happy" that was Nicaraguans state of mind, as it was that they were able to find "joy" in their lives despite their situation.
  That, my friends, is probably a thought for all of us to ponder.
Peace.

You Can Be Epic, Part: Last

The One Run For Boston was gaining steam. The story had made it to USA Today with a great photo of Danny Bent running a long deserted desert highway. All the legs were covered and people were continuing to sign up to join others. A major story had been in USA Today! It, we, the relay was a big story. Epic. 
  June 20th, "Miles" the baton entered Missouri. This was the day. Sometime that evening I would be carrying Miles on a 9.5 mile leg from Sampson to Phillipsburg MO. But not alone. 
  The day before I got a very unexpected phone call from, of all places, Boston. Eric Moskowitz, a Boston Globe reporter, called to confirm that he would, with my permission, join me on my leg in order to write a story about One Run For Boston. I was stunned. Why me? I asked. Eric said they wanted to do a story about an average runner who had decided to be part of this epic (I'm not sure he said epic) relay. Someone had suggested me or something. 
  Okay. 
  Eric came, met me at the hand off to leg 170 and along with photographer Greg Kendall-Ball, shadowed me the rest of the day. 
  The relay was still behind. After meeting the next group for hand off, Greg taped a video interview and Eric was writing down everything I said. It was weird. You can watch the video, I won't bore you with the details. 

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4U25PtxLe80

  It was the most fun and epic run I have ever had. It was once in a lifetime. 

  

You Can Be Epic: Part 2

  Normally, I don't click on those side bar ads on Facebook, you know the ones with the woman, who made $1000 per day working form home, I mean I just don't have the cleavage to make that kind of money. But on May 23, 2013, I signed up, via a sidebar ad, to be part of an "epic" running relay across the United States. 
  I sent my entry fee via Paypal and just hoped that it would not be a scam of some sort. Shortly I received an email thanking me for becoming part of One Run For Boston Relay, to raise money for the victims of the Boston Marathon Bombing. 
  The relay, a brain child of three British citizens (Kate, Danny and Jamie), would start June 7 in LA and end in Boston on June 30.     the word "epic" would be used. A GPS tracker built into the baton that would be carried would allow for "live" tracking on the website, so each participate could see how the relay was progressing. 
  As I noted in my last post, the only requirements were to send your entry fee and swear on a stack of stinky shirts, that you could maintain a 10 minute per mile pace for the duration of your "leg".       So a couple of days later, I went to see if I could really do that. If not I had time, almost a month to get in shape. I ran 9.67 miles at a 8:27 pace. Whoo-hoo! I was gonna be epic. 
  In the weeks prior to the start, the anticipation had built to a fever pitch on the Facebook page, and on the live site. There had been drama, last minute efforts to fill some of the more remote legs in the western states.
 Did I mention that this was 24/7 relay. Once it started it never stopped for any more than time to pass the baton and take some pictures. 
  On June 7th at 10 in the morning LA time, it began.  Within a few hours the difficulty of the task became apparent. Things happened and with the relay barely underway, it was off it's schedule, behind the time it had hoped to be on. 
  This is day one. 
  To many of those waiting down the line,  this was NOT ACCEPTABLE! 
  Being not only runners, but being human, and perhaps being Americans, this caused a panic on the Facebook page. What would happen, would I have to give up my spot because my dog had a grooming appointment an hour after my leg or I had to drive back home and go to work!
  OMG! This thing is falling apart...ALREADY! 
  How can it be EPIC if it can't even stay on time! 
  We have twenty three more days...AAAAAARRRRGGGG! 
  With a sense of humor and experience in this type of adventuring, Danny and Kate, the Brits imposed a reality check! They were going to be driving and running (some) with this whole deal. They weren't worried, so don't you be either. Their calming words and the vigilance of Mary, the St. Louis based American Facebook monitor, convinced most of us (some never did get it) to "Stay Calm and Run On!" 
  My leg was still almost 2 weeks out but I was excited. I and many others were checking the website and Facebook all through that first night to see if some fast people caught up the time. Where was the baton? Who was running at midnight? Why isn't the GPS working?It became addictive. The relay was coming my way. The reports couldn't come fast enough. 
  Pictures showed people running in terrible heat, in rain, crawling under fences (thanks MapMyRun) sometimes catching up on time, sometimes falling farther behind. I didn't care, it was still making steady progress, coming my way, California, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas. Everyday, check it early, check it late, check on my middle of the night bathroom trip. It was getting more real. 
  I made new friends on Facebook. We encouraged those who were going before us. For me it became an excellent virtual adventure.  The baton entered Oklahoma through the panhandle, now it was getting close, well about a week away. It was still behind.
   I didn't care if  was 2 hours or 2 days behind, this was going to be epic. 



  

You can be Epic!

   It was a hot Thursday and I was taking my lunch break. This means I had come into the house from doing yard work, and of course had to check my Gmail to see if any interesting jobs had shown up in my inbox, and while I'm at it might as well check Facebook, see what everyone else is having for lunch.
    After looking at some more "jobs just for you in Sparta" (there are no jobs in Sparta) email postings, I looked at Facebook to see if there was anything interesting, you know new Pinterest stuff a picture of a spider inside an Oreo, important revelations. On the sidebar, I think it was, or somewhere there was a notice about a cross country running relay to raise money for the victims of the Boston Marathon bombing.The word RUNNING jumped out at me so I clicked. 
    There I found a long description of the lofty goals for the relay, and the use of the "epic". Epic was intriguing, but not a word I  often use in my mid-pack running world.  
      Reading through again, I saw that all that was asked was the ability to maintain a 10 minute per mile pace. 10 minute miles, I could do that, sure it might be painful, but, heck yes! 
     I then clicked on the RUN button and found the entire route broken up into states and then into stages or legs. Who knew that 10 minute miles were epic? 
    Clicking on MO I was excited to see a leg that ran through my hometown via Route 66 on June 20. I should sign up for this. Doubt crept in. No, forget it,  there will be faster runners who will make it more epic by going faster.
      I stared at the screen. Could I be "epic"? If I signed up would they check my stats and say, "Sorry Mr. Bohannon, we're looking for faster people." 
Even as I sat there looking at the screen, I refreshed and saw that the Missouri legs were filling up (guess other people check Facebook in the middle of the day too!). It felt right. Even if nobody else knew I was running this leg it would be a memory for me to be part of something so big!  I clicked, filled out the info and Bazinga! I was now part of something epic!
      When the Fetching Mrs. B, my running tolerant spouse, called later, she was encouraging even, enthusiastic, meaning I didn't even hear an eye roll over the phone. 
      It was May 23, I had a little over a month to get ready.
      9.5 miles through my hometown. On Route 66! 
      More to tell, but let me say now, it was gonna be epic! 

      Peace my friends!      

Lessons from a Marathon

"At Marathon arrayed, to the battle shock we ran
 And our mettle we displayed, foot to foot, man to man
 And our name and fame shall not die. 
  Aristophanes, "The Acharnians," 425 B. C.

Ah, the marathon. 
"How far is that?" asked a non-runner friend. 
"26.2 miles is a marathon distance, always." I answered.

"You're doing a marathon? Wow! How long is that?" asked an impressed grandchild. 
"We'll see." I answered.

I've been mulling over the results of my last, possibly final, marathon. I ran the Phoenix Marathon on March 2, in Mesa AZ (we could see Phoenix from the starting line) and it was 26.2, that's how far. How long was it? I set a Personal Record, the longest time I have spent on a marathon course. Official time 5:03. 

My longest previous marathon was 4:35 and that's when I said I was done with the distance. That marathon in 2006 in Oklahoma City would be the final one. Turns out it wasn't. 

What I have been mulling over is was there a lesson to be learned from this time spent on the road? Well, many to be honest. 

I learned I might need to train more, no I didn't learn that here, I already knew that.

I learned that all downhill is not necessarily a good thing. 

I learned not to be disappointed with my time, but to be satisfied that I finished upright and not in the medical tent. 

I learned that there were a lot of people who trained real hard and would have been tickled to have the time I had. 

I learned to be a more humble, I am just running a run, not a race.

I learned that "regular" people (non-runners), especially your friends, are impressed that you could keep moving forward for 5 hours. I learned that if you tell them many people were twice as fast, they really aren't impressed. Why? Because they know you and don't know that person who won. I have great friends in Brian and Sue.

I learned that running is part of who I am, no matter how I measure up to other runners. 

I learned that I like Arizona. 

I learned that there is an all uphill marathon in Tuscon. 

I learned that I should never say never again.

I learned that maybe I'll never learn.

Peace my friends.