I Will Praise Him Even in the Storm - Ironman Waco 70.3 2024

 

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Here I go off onto the water of training for an event.  From the photo you can see I don't have a rudder, and I don't have an oar.  I am pointing to the source of my power upon this water. There will be storms and there will be waves.  My boat will take on water, and I will grow weary from weathering the storms.  

But

There is no other place I would rather be than trusting God past my own limits; to see Him work miracles within me where before I could see only commonplace ho-hum purposeless existence.  There is a certain peace with all this, a confident calm not with myself but within the sheltering arms of my God.  

If I don't live long enough to make the starting line, I will praise God that I had this moment to point to the sky with my life and surrender all to Him.  If I make it to the starting line, I will praise God for letting me get to know that feeling of gratitude and accomplishment.

Whatever happens on the way to Ironman 70.3 Waco October 6th 

I will praise Him

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"I Am In"

 The last few moments before the start of a triathlon are the most tense.   Sure, you are trained.  You are ready.  You can swim OK. But even knowing all this, there will be an element of doubt and tension.  The devil will bring his worry to the party for you.    But it's practically too late.  He should have tried harder, and inflicted more doubt early because now you are in, no going back.  The training, the waiting are over, and something big enough to scare you and inspiring enough to make you grow is about to begin. As they count off the minutes for your swim wave to thrash water, it seems like it will never begin. 

 Then, the gun sounds and it is on.  You are in!   Water is splashing on your face. You are bumping and rolling against other swimmers in the forward motion to the first buoy. How great.  It feels like it's where I should be at this very moment in time.  Take another hard swim stroke. Yes!  let’s go, I am in.  

Thank you, God for this passion to follow, to be challenged, by and to ultimately enjoy, and grow from it.  But, most of all thank you for the Faith journey I am on, for the passion, to be challenged by, and to grow from.  And, when I cross my final finish line, I can look to heaven and say, "I am in." 

80 Years Old 81 Push Ups ...God Has Been Good to Me

God has been good to me

 

Last year in September I had a bad bike wreck, with multiple injuries. One was the right wrist. I wore a brace on it for a while and eventually, I could use it a little. My morning exercise at that time included 30 push ups and I gave that up as the wrist would not support that activity.

But God was good and eventually I managed a couple push ups on the wrist. I kept adding pushups as I could stand it. On December 7th of this year, God willing I will be 80 years old. I had this goal of doing 80 pushups before my 80th birthday. Well today, I did 81 - one extra in case I won't be here next year. They weren't pretty but I got them done. I have been trying without much success to lose weight and today I certainly wished I would have had more success.

Praise God.

PS - I made it another year and have done 82 pushups for my birthday.  Praise God indeed and prayerfully ask for another year.

  

Pray for Courage or My Song Will be Left Unsung?

 The day before Labor Day , will mark one year since my bad bike wreck.  During that year I have only been on a road bike once for about a mile.  Seems I left something back there on that road:  my courage.  The thought of riding on the road again makes me quite anxious.  it was a long and painful journey to recovery. 

Yeah sure, I know the rah-rah and all the dialogue regarding this issue like, "All we have to fear is fear itself."  The Bible is full of "fear nots" that I skim on by.  Maybe now I have a better understanding of the fears other people, but it doesn't resolve my own.

Some braver day I will have to do what John Blaise said to do on that Ironman video:  "Face your fears and live your dreams."  As I approach 80 years of age, most of my athletic dreams involve a road bike to some extent.  Sure, I know, the memory of all the pain must be dealt with or part of life will go unlived.  I don't have the time left to be weak of heart, to leave my song left unsung.  

Perhaps my first real road ride could be planned for the day before    Labor Day, the one-year anniversary of that bad wreck. Maybe that day can be as much a beginning as it was an ending.  I'll pray about that.  I'll pray for courage.

The Whisper Seems to Say

 Every fiber of reason in me tells me let this go.  And I have prayed fervently about this and finished with "Nevertheless let thy will be done."  Surely His will is for reason to prevail.  "God is not the author of confusion."  However, I am confused.  So, who is writing this script; me or God?  Even when not thinking about doing Ironman Texas, the possibility creeps into my thoughts like a siren song.   I don't get it.    I am not terribly motivated to do Ironman Texas anymore.  There are all kinds of good things I have planned to do during that time, that seem good and satisfying.  Why do these haunting thoughts continue to disturb my peace?  

The thought that keeps coming up is to do a "Give it to God" training campaign.  That is, despite being 80 years old, haven't ridden the road bike outside in almost a year, haven't ran farther than 4 miles in the past six months, having a perpetual "train wreck" of a left knee, despite all this and more, the whisper seems to say to go on, sign up and just let God handle this entirely.  Give it to God. 

The whisper seems to say this:  "You are right.  It is a mega-longshot, pretty much an impossibility. You are pretty well done before you start. So why not give up to begin with and give the outcome to God.  Go on! Step out in faith. Let God carry you until He says enough.    You could chronicle it for those whose interest might be peaked, who might be inspired and moved closer by what God can do with little or nothing.  The worst that can happen is that you wear yourself out and fail for God."

And I think:  wouldn't it be better to pour yourself out and fail for God than to succeed for yourself?  Now I am scared as well as confused.

Please Tell Me Again.

 Tell me again.  Tell me again that I am too old.  Remind me again that I have AFIB.  Tell me again I have a train wreck of a left  knee.  Runing or even walking 26 miles on that would be a horror show.  Oh Lord, Tell me again.  I don't seem to get it. So, tell me again. Remind me again of the struggle I would inflict on my family.  Tell me again I have not been riding my bike outside in over a year. Oh Lord, put some sense into me and tell me again to forget this triathlon stuff.  

Oh I need to be refreshed on all the good things I could be doing for God if I didn't bury myself to brain-dead in ironman training.  I need that one word for God.  "STOP"   Or how about three words, "LET IT GO!!"  But I haven't heard it and I go on sort of mentally disabled with "What if" thoughts.  It doesn't do me any good to  go on hungering for the opportunity to do an expensive self-destruct. Oh Lord quiet my heart.  Tell me. Tell me again.  Maybe this time I'll get it.

When I Am Me Again

 The Miles of the Journey seem tedious and weighty at times.  A departure to a rest stop seems soothing at first.  However, there is a tension over time that builds and builds.  The antidote to that tension, for me, seems to be vigorous exercise, letting go of worldly responsibilities and other people's issues, and just go out with your hair on fire, and start again on the Miles of the Journey.  There is a sort of a peace that comes with that afterwards and it is like I know, beyond any doubt, that that was right. It was right where I belonged in that moment in time.  I was truly alive in my life.  I was me again. 

This is crazy stuff, I know.  And I could gloss it over with smattering of normalcy, but all the cover up won't make this any different.  No apology; I am just this way.  I must move and move regularly and purposefully to be at peace with myself in the long haul. 

But age says slow down and I feel so out of place with others my age.  I don't take any medicine. So I don't have that  in common with most my age.  I don't go to doctors very often or have procedures. Common ground is hard to come by with people my age.  If I say to much about how I feel about things and what I do, the curtain ggoes up.   How could I ever convey the joy of pouring yourself out in training  to those who are disabled to greater or lesser degrees?  And I don't think they really want to hear it.  At my age, fitness and health can put you in a lonely spot. 

However, the end game is that I am grateful for my health and fitness.  I am immensely grateful, grateful to God for given me this life and this health.  And the lonely nature of my lifestyle pulls me closer to Jesus as a friend.  "What a friend we have in Jesus,"  the song goes.  Indeed, what a friend who has been my friend during these wonderful Miles of the Journey

Born-Again Loser

Is that me out there?  Was I out there rocking and rolling in the water and waves with other souls of similar nature?  Will I ever be in a crowd like this again?  Do I REALLY want to be out there?  Does it hold the same passion, the same challenge, the same adventure as it did in younger years?  

This doesn't look as comfortable as my recliner does. This is a lot more tiring than visiting, sitting, and discussing how the world is going to hell in a handbasket or the latest in dietary considerations.  Yeah, this looks like it could hurt and there could be a risk involved.  Why take risks when you don't have to?  Save your life from that distress.  You are old and worn out.  What are you thinking anyway?  Do I  really want to do this anymore? 

The photo below stirs an old musty memory of being out there in the fray, feeling keenly alive.  This memory is so unlike recliner and conversation duty where I feel somewhere between very comfortable and very tired, half alive and half dead and ready for bed. The comfort of going through life, even at my age, and just checking the "being  good" boxes of life is  obviously not going to be enough for this old and restless  spirit.  The Bible says, "Whosoever shall save his  life  shall lose it. And,  whosoever shall  lose his  life for my sake shall find it."  I will have to find this again or something  else of similar passion and challenge.  Yeah, maybe I am to be a loser for God and "run the race that is set before me."  Praise God, I am a born-again loser. 

Trying to Give Up Who You Are

 

Stress shouldn’t be a factor, but it is.  I’m  living a quiet, comfortable life of retirement from work and now from endurance sports…  I should be less stressed, but I’m not. Little things perturb me.  People easily disappointment me.  I feel tension in my body that I cannot put away.  Tension has no reason to be there.  It is like I am frustrated from a hunger that haunts me like a ghost.

After months now of countless doctor visits, and procedures, and operations on my loved ones, I feel all doctored out.  It a push-pull thing.  While I feel so blessed to be able to be there for my loved ones; while it is a blessing to be of good health to do all this, I know a lot of my health is due to my former lifestyle in endurance sports. 

About the time I feel good about helping others, that selfish side of me raises its head to say, “What about me? Do I get any perks here in this life or do I have to be patient and wait for the next?”  I know what to do for others, but what do I do for me, to keep me viable?  What is wrong with me?

It’s evident to me that I am not taking retirement from endurance sports that well.  So far, it’s changed me not for the better but toward the bitter. This skin doesn’t fit me that well at all.  With no more war to fight I fear I might get sick if I can’t come out of this dead zone, I seem to be in.

Maybe if I keep on with resignation and retirement, I will eventually adjust and adapt, much like training adapts one to endurance sports.  Maybe I will eventually not feel my chains at all and be at peace with a normal life.  Somehow, I doubt all that because,  praise God, I have tasted it.  I got through all that and I will get through this, thanks be to God.  And no matter how hulled out, beat up, disabled, old and useless and pathetically normal I get, I will always look back on who I was, smile, and be my own hero.

Give It Up; Move On?

 

My triathlon life seems to be gone yet I can't quit mourning the loss.  I see pictures of triathletes and read about events and such and still feel a part.  I still feel connected like I still can and I could but.  

I wish God would give me a firm answer to  my prayers about this.  I seem to get more "give it up and move on" feed back than anything but I am just not sure.  Maybe I just having trouble accepting that.  However, every day there is a situation which  provokes the "give it up for real, and move on" feeling.  

Scary too is the "who  will  I be" question.  It seems a sort  of cowardice I can't accept of myself well, to just fall out of the sky and drift to earth.  I know God put this passion for personal challenge and adventure within me.  Does He want me to give that up?  I can't believe He does.  Maybe that is what I want to believe so I can keep  on trying?

Others have harder problems, I know.  In the larger scheme of things my piddling questions about whether or not to give up a sport, are way down there on the food chain of importance.   

But endurance sports is such an integral  part of my faith life.  I prary a lot out there.  I pray for those in much greater need than I.   Sometimes when my prayer list of the suffering is long,  I  pray for each  person, from one road sign or bridge abatement, then pray for another on a similar stretch of road.  There has never been a shortage of people to pray for.  There is so much need in this world and here I am whining because I can't do triathlons anymore...Or, maybe I can. 

It Hurts

 Embracing pain and the feeling is let  go.  Let the pain control you and your life.  It's Ok.  Everyone has to do that at one time or the other.  Sooner or later it happens.  In life sometimes,  every step a sharp, painful reminder that it  is just your turn to hurt and you are done for anything remotely approaching the activity level of your former life.  It's all over for you.  Time to just find a place to sit down and relieve the pain.  Can I do that?    

I  could have a knee replacement, I guess.  But with a knee replacement I wouldn't be able to run anymore.   I am not really running anymore anyway.  How can I call myself doing anything now remotely approaching what one would call running?

Running used to be my go-to sport.  The easy gait for miles and miles was a wonderful experience.  Now running is quite a painful experience; a regular painfest, sort of a test to see how much pain you can take for how long.  Running is a dreaded pursuit.  It hurts. 

But it hurts to give up on this old friend even though this old friend seems to have turned against me and our relationship isn't the best right now. I want so bad to hold on to running, but it hurts. 

And this has been prayed over many times and all I hear is the wind and all I know is that it hurts.  So maybe that is my answer; not great words or  parting of the sea or anything like that.  Maybe my  answer is that nagging, stabbing pain which may be saying move on.  If that is answer from God, that will hurt too.

And, then again, the unanswered prayer may mean:  suck it up, take another step, do it.  I know...it hurts.

80 Years Old - Taking the Risk to be Myself.

 It seems that the older you get the more one is expected to conform to conventional wisdom about age.   But what if they are wrong?  Who are "they" anyway.  As I approach 80 years old I find it hard to "stay down" and cultivate my old age like a garden.  At almost 80 there is still a fire down there.  As my dad used to say, "There is snow on the rooftop but there is a fire in the furnace."  

The more I read and experience, and the more I observe those my age, the more I hear about how everything goes downhill with body and mind when you get this age.  And, there is not much use in trying to fight it.  It just is.  Accept my fate and behave myself and die properly on time.  

Why?  If I am on a slippery slide to death, what's to lose.  Oh, you are old and you could hurt yourself, "they" may say.   Goodness, but you can hurt yourself at any age.  If all that's left to life is pain, and pills, followed by death, where is the scare in hurting yourself?

And conventional wisdom says don't do  too much exercise at your age.  Again, you could hurt yourself.  But, according to what I have read and experienced, it appears exercise is needed more in  older ages, maybe more, than younger age groups.  People stop moving as they accept the old age scripts someone else has written for them.  They move less and worry more as they watch scare tactic media,  reporting every day a new way that the sky is falling.  

So, if we are doomed because of old age and doomed because of things going on in the world, why not move more, risk more, create more, be more than you are expected to be.  It's not to late for dreams but dreams don't work unless you do.  

I  want to take the risk to be myself.  God give me the strength and keep me in your care.  amen.

What Living in the Sloth Jacket is Like

 Lethargy began by me taking my foot off the gas.  That somehow seems to be what people do when they reach a certain state in life or age.  Don't  I want to be like other people?  Aren't we hard-wired for that?  We like to be loved and noticed but from the safety of camouflaged lives.  Safety  first.  

Now, months into limited training, the sloth jacket fits me quite well.  And the peace and comfort it brings me, makes me wonder why would I ever go back to living a life with my hair on fire?  Life is easy, comfortable, quiet, not confrontational, and almost effortless.  Wasted time goes flying by. Days pass and I wonder what I did with them except consume.  How wonderful to be so disengaged with effort in life. 

This has been going on so long I don't seem to miss the wars anymore.  I am like a lion in a cage that had the door left open but never left.  The cage is just too quiet, easy, and comfortable to leave.  It all seems like a kind of peaceful death I don't regret anymore.  

But, in the recesses of what wilder spirit left in me, there is a spark of wonder.  Could I start that fire again and make it blaze like before?  And if I did that, would I be happy in it anymore.  Or would I saunter on back to my cage to comfortably wait the end?  

Lots of questions.  No real answers.  I think I will go for  a trainer ride.

CHALLENGING THE DRIFT

 We have done an intermittent fast the last couple of days.  So far, not much change.  It does add structure to life, that is, trying to figure out when to eat and still get all the other stuff in life done.  But I would imagine, that that exercise is good for life structure as well.  

Right now without structured training, some form of life-structure could be a real asset.  I remember fishing far down the river and we broke the prop off the motor.  We were left to drift with the current down the river, away from home.  It is a helpless feeling at the mercy of the current swept  along where you would not have chosen to go.  Life seems sort of like that sometimes and I  don't like it.  And,  I  suppose when I don't like it enough, when I  come to myself , I will do  something to fight aimless drifting and challenge the drift.  

Drifting powerless  down river is a helpless feeling  but it doesn't have to stay that way.  The main thing is not to turn that momentary "helpless" into a full time "hopeless."  

We picked  up the  paddles and made our way to shore.  With each taking  turns pulling the  boat by the bow line,  we waded tiresome miles against the current pulling the boat finally to home.    I can do  that.  God give me  the strength,  the will, to  pick up  my paddle and make  for  shore. The  way  will be hard and tiresome but it is the only way to true home.

Never give up.  God is still working.  Are you?

Running the Last Lap Well

 In the words of James Brown, "I  feel good."  For someone checking off this year to 80 years old, it seems out of place to feel this good. I think the fast had something to do with it, but I think overall lifestyle has something to do with it as well.  I eat whole food, plant based and try to limit stress and aggravation as much as possible.  

 I know at this age that I don't have a long term lease on this apartment but I want to live as much real life as I can right up  until the day my lease is up.  So, I going all in on what I love, while I have health and ability.  As I lean into life to wring its last succulent drop of nectar, these are the things I want to do:

I want to be active:         doing hard physical work; tough mental work; training. 

I want to be brave:         confronting what scares me like in triathlon and other endurance sports.

                                        confronting what disturbs my spirit and lessens my ability to live out my                                                    remaining days  well.  

I want to be loving:        Not holding back but expressing love felt. Leaving no love unsaid.

I want to risk more:        I really have nothing to lose anyway.  Why hold back?  I am going to sign up                                            for a half Ironman at this time when I have trouble walking.  I want to some                                            sprint triathlons before that. Tall order for a limping old man.  But I have found                                         God in those struggles over the years and succeed or fail, I know I will find                                            Him in my efforts and --------------------

I  want  to be closer still to God - As I am more or less packing for the trip to His house, I want to have an even more intimate relationship with Him.  I intend to pray more and have cause to smile more, laugh more, and live more until I am called to my true home.

The Fast Continues - The Final Phase of Self-Denial

Only 7 1/2 hours to go on this 48 hour fast.  Amazing how much easier it is when you have some time and experience in this.  At first, I was looking for snacklets all the time.  At first, I was thinking food at breakfast, lunch and dinner.  It was supposed to be.  The paradigm seems to have shifted a bit and a newer habit is in the works.  It probably won't be enough time in to become permanent, but the effect surely can't be missed in modifying future eating habits.   But this is good.  However, I do notice that I get fatigued more easily from my morning exercise.  There is an underlying shaky that I am not used to.   

I think this is good endurance training.  It trains the mind in the habits of foregoing present comfort for a future goal.  It can teach sacrifice and self-denial, important in endurance sports and in relationship with others.  Sometimes, love is going to cost something.   We need to know we can pay that price.  This can be the parent/child relationships, or an elder relative that needs that love and care that requires sacrifice and self-denial.  That's what God wants of us. 

THE FAST BEGINS

 It has only been 16 hours since eating that huge fruit salad.  So far, I am not hungry at all.  What is amazing is the reflexive tendency to eat though not hungry.  Many times, I catch myself absently mindedly reaching for something.  For this reason alone, the fast will be worth it, as it will provide a look back at my own negative habits with eating.  For me, there is little doubt that this is one of the reasons weight doesn't get down to what I want it to even though I eat plant based.  Maybe there really is too much of a good thing- like nuts.  Nuts are high nutrition but high calorie and "too much" is reached fairly soon. 

So the fast can help show the "want" from the "need" when it comes to eating.  Now, to get moving.  Negative inertia is hard to overcome.  Wish me well.

Again

 Again, I want to start.  Again, I want to get out on a bike. Again, I want to run.   So, I am blogging -- again.  The bike wreck broke me up mentally and physically pretty bad in September and the consequent down time healing has left me athletically listless.  I want out of that rut and back on the road.  Again, I want to be that man in motion.   

There hasn't been too much of a weight gain but to get rid of those pounds and to firm resolve, I am going to fast for 48 hours.    I want to put this out here in order to burn my bridges behind me to counter that impulse to retreat that is sure to come.  At this age, I am not sure how much and how far I can take this.  So, I am going on and planning on taking this on like a young man and if God has other plans:  so be it.  I can accept that.  

My last meal was a huge bowl of fruit.  I know.  It is easy to be bold about fasting on a full stomach.  OK, here we go:  48 hours of only liquid.  I pray I will do well and find the better part of myself - again.