#20 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer- Cancer The End of a One Very Rough Year

 I may have had harder years, but I can't remember when.  There were hard years as a child with severe asthma and days and weeks of struggling to breathe.  I missed almost 30 days of school one semester. 

But this year was pretty rough, too.  I was digging a large hole and fell across it and hurt my back.  Night after night, pain relievers, hot pads, cold pads, and sleeping in the recliner for night after night. It was a misery to get up out of that recliner to go to the bathroom.  And once I just went on and faced the pain, it was hard to get back to sleep.  

I was just about out of the recliner when I took a fall on my gravel bike and landed on my side.  My whole rib cage, sides, and back hurt from this.  So back to the recliner and all that went with it. 

Then, a couple of weeks out of the recliner, I hurt myself lifting an air conditioner, and things really got bad then.  This was some really serious pain. 

I've taken falls all my life. What was surprising was that now I was getting hurt by falls I usually took in stride.  Then the diagnosis.  cracked vertebra and multiple myeloma.  So I end the year, in treatment fatigue fog, hoping and yes praying, the next year will be better.  

But, looking back, I can see "all things work together for good, for those who love the Lord and are called according to His purpose."  The falls and the pain were warnings of something worse than a bruised muscle.  I probably should have gone for an X-ray the first time I took a fall that left damage it shouldn't have. Perhaps God was trying to tell me something.  Perhaps, I wasn't listening?

So this year, I want to keep my ear to the ground more about what God wants to do in my life, and not let pride and ego overcome the good sense God blessed me with 

#19 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer- Cancer As A Sifting Process

 Cancer and other diseases and serious injuries can be sifters.  That is, when the outcome is in doubt, the sifter shakes out all the lesser important things and people you would have never had the wisdom or courage to sift out yourself. As the song goes, "the things of earth will grow strangely dim---."

With a diagnosis like cancer, the initial well-wishes and supposed concerns are lavishly expressed.  It is like a parade going by.  All the confetti, the bells and whistles, and balloons, but the parade goes on by.   And you find yourself in a crowd seemingly alone.  

The first impulse is self-pity.  That lasts for a moment until you see that there is still a few people beside you, supporting you, no drums, no whistles, no confetti, just solid, feet on the ground, support grounded in love.  And in that moment, you also realize that Jesus has never left you either.  You have all the support you need.  You have all the support you really had to begin with.

Life now consists of good days and some bad days, where fatigue can be overwhelming.   It's a day-to-day struggle to keep spirits up, with all the physical limitations imposed upon me now and the nasty fatigue.  So I thank Jesus for being there, and I thank my faithful for a love I doubt I deserve.

#18 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer- the last Christmas

 My first Christmas with cancer.  Of course, I wonder if this is the last Christmas I will experience.  I realize it could be, but recent life has taught me to live with a great deal of uncertainty.   I did my best to enjoy and relish the experience this year. 

Why shouldn't we do that all the time?  Everyone has a terminal disease called life.  No one knows if this was their last Christmas or not.  Sure, my chances are better than some that it will be my last, but that's just the odds. Life often defies the odds.  

So the takeaway is live close to the bone with the life you have.  Love hard the ones close to you and let them know it.  Don't let love go unspoken or unexperienced.  Say it, show it, do it - now. This may be your last Christmas. This may be theirs. 

#17 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer- The Wisdom to Surrender

 Another treatment today, and it is the last until next year.   There is so much I would love to do still.  However, I am not sure about what the future holds as far as what I can do now, and even when treatment is finished in September of 2026.  

So I learn to live with an uncertain future, as if there is a certain one.  The old joke comes up.  "Want to make God laugh?  Tell Him  your plans."  This cancer business has certainly taught me that we are not much in control at all.  We chase the illusion of control, a bubble floating in the wind. Life turns on a dime, and the only way to win this game is to surrender.  How many times have I been pushed in a corner I don't have the strength to fight my way out of and just have to give it to God, in humble submission to His way, His will in my life.  I just have to let it go. 

And so as this treatment process continues, may I  have the wisdom to surrender and let God be God in my new life.

#16 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer- Finding My Way in the Dark

 

As the year draws to a close, I find that by the end of this month, I will have been in treatment three months of the twelve I will have to do. That is a long way to go, but a lot behind me already.  Scary to think of what the long-term effects of the altered diet and constant drug intake will do over the long haul.

What will be left of me by Christmas next year, if I make it that far?  What will be my capabilities next year when this gets through with me?  Is life just a "hold until relieved" affair now, with no real hope for the activity I have loved so much all my life?  Can I keep giving up this, giving up that, for the next nine months without being overly depressed?

Questions, questions, questions, and no real answers.  Can I live without the answers and face life as it comes to me or leaves me?

Facing life in the dark is where God comes in.   It is dark, very dark, in my bedroom when I get up during the night to find my way to the bathroom.   But, I have done this route so many times that all I have to do is touch an object or piece of furniture, and I know where I am and can proceed on to the bathroom.  

So, it is with God. When the darkness of all this uncertainty and many unanswered questions seems to overwhelm me. I just have to reach out to God, touch His familiar hand, and I know where I am.  Whatever happens in the darkness of the next nine months, I can find my way because God is with me. Emanuel-God is with Us...... Merry Christmas

#15 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer- Old News

 Treatment started on September 29th, and soon it will be 3 months.  Thanksgiving has come and gone, and now Christmas is in the air.  It is not surprising that my cancer and treatment are old news now.  

 What makes cancer so special anyway?  Everyone, it seems, carries a burden or health issue of some kind, and some may be more debilitating than cancer and cancer treatment.   

And, I seem to be having an easier time with it as I am back to doing most, not all, of what I did before all this happened to me.  There have been some things I have had to cut back and some to give up entirely, but overall, life is good.  Others with all sorts of other issues may not be in such a good place.  So why shouldn't I be old news?  Sure, cancer seems to say death, but life does too.   Cancer can seem to say suffering, but there is suffering in life for other causes too. 

I don't mind being old news.  I know people care and are watching to see that I will be OK.  But, my good results so far have taken the urgency off the critical care by others for me.  I am blessed, and I do know that should this all go south all of a sudden, then I will no longer be old news.  And like I told the nurse at the cancer center, "God's got this."  My news is in His hands. 

#14 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer- Diamonds and Stones

Some days are diamonds and some days are just stones, nothing to write about but just getting through. Thankfully, I don't have many of those.  But the drugs sometimes bring me down, where all I want to do is sleep and just find a place and stare off in space for a long period of time.  Sometimes the drugs put me on an inner quiver, and sleeping isn't sound and I feel jittery and anxious constantly.  

But most days are diamonds.  My workouts have been consistent, and my walking and bike riding have been.  Most of the time, if I can just get moving, I have a better chance of having a diamond day.  

Today, my walk was going really well out in the woods.  The more I walked, the more I came to myself.  There is a place in those woods where I have fashioned a cross of rocks and have a rocking chair there.  It's where I have prayed for people over the years.  God seems to meet me there.  

The words didn't come for persistent prayer today.  It was as if God was saying  "Be still," and experience the quiet peace of His creation.   It was really quiet.  All I could hear was the sounds of the woods. As I rocked and listened,  peace settled in on me like a fog coming in. 

I didn't want to leave and wondered how long I could have stayed there basking in the peace God had revealed to me. Cancer has brought me closer to God. Whatever the outcome at the end of this journey, it is well with my soul.   It's been a diamond day.   Amen

#13 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer- The Getting Through Cancer Treatment Ironman

 Yesterday I had the full load of drugs.  I am on once-a-week treatment now.  However, I have had a few minor  side effects. (facial flushing, insomnia, inner tenseness).  But I don't feel that bad and will go for a walk this morning.  

This limited lifestyle is having negative effects on me as I have a bad case of restless in all this.  I want to do more.  My memory is too good at thinking of all I could do just a year ago at this time.  My birthday is coming up, and I once did a pushup for every year plus one on that day.  Now, "don't do too much" is a persistent reminder and aggravator.  

I see a bike ride I might want to do.  No, what if I fall with this one condition?   And the half-ironman I always wanted to do opened up for next year about this time, but probably not for me.  I won't be off this program in time for the serious summertime training.   And there is always the danger that all this will get really bad. 

So, I guess my certain event is the GETTING THROUGH CANCER TREATMENT IRONMAN.  It requires no training but massive discipline and consistency, and complete trust in God for His presence and power, whatever, however, this event turns out. I  am blessed.

#12 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer---Song in the Night

 For some reason today, I am remembering all the painful, fitful nights I spent during this journey.   Sometimes, I just felt like giving up on sleep altogether. I don't know how I made it, but I did.  I do remember talking to God a lot, wondering what this was for and why.  I guess faith held up in that seemingly never-ending storm. 

Ordinarily, giving up would be the order of the day.  At night, in the pain, in the dark, alone and uncomfortable, one might become desperate about life.  But I wasn't really alone.  I was never closer to God but I just didn't understand and still don't.  But as the song says, he was "my strength, my song in the night." 

And night after night, I made it through, though not sure how or how I could go on losing so much sleep.  Then, when the hospitalization came, there were more nights I needed and received that strength and heard that "song in the night."  I survived thanks to God, but it was a mile of the journey that changed me.  I've grown so much closer to God, and that song in the night can be heard more and more in my heart. 

#11 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer--

 My birthday is coming up soon, and I wonder if I will see another one.  Last year, I did a pushup for every year plus one, in case I couldn't do that this year.  This year I will use my extra pushup.  

Cancer adds an intensity of awareness to life.  It emphasizes its brevity and its moment-by-moment value.  And gratitude and tolerance come easier.    Shams and drama are easier to ignore.  Use of remaining time, is a more discerning endeavor.  I am not afraid to do nothing but sit and pray or just relax in nature.  Things to do are still with me, but letting things go comes much easier. 

Being alone is often sought, although I have experienced through many days and nights of hardship and pain, that I am never alone. God is with me.  It's Emanuel, all over again, like at Christmas, "God is with us." And I am glad of that, that "resurrection, that truth and the life" that I believe and place my assurance in, now and evermore.

# 10 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer-- I Could Be More Grateful

 The journey continues.  It is to be a year of treatment and I don't know how to make it go any faster.   There is concern about what is waiting to ambush me around the corner.  

But I feel good and am riding my indoor bike some and doing light weights daily.  I walk for an hour plus without difficulty, so there is good reason to be grateful fhere or what I can do and how far I have come.

Tomorrow, more treatment and more medication.  I never dreamed I would be taking so much stuff.  Also, I have to have more protein and fewer green leafy vegetables, which has turned my entire eating plan around.  My life has been turned around, too, with a 10 lb lifting restriction  for the last two months.  It's the new me, but do I like this guy as much?  

This is a serious disease, I am fighting and I realize that I could be more grateful; grateful for the medical people who have helped me along this journey, grateful for the health I have now despite all the drugs and downtime.  But, I can be more grateful for sure for all the prayers offered by so many people on my behalf.  Thinking about it, being prayer for is pretty special.    

# 9 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer- The Second Round of Treatments Done

It's been quite the journey so far.  Today, I finished my second of countless sessions of chemotherapy.  I get a week off, now.  

In my sessions in the infusion room, I have met and talked to several patients, many of whom are worse off than I am.  Their stories sometimes seem almost bizarre in the things that they have had to confront, endure,  and overcome.  

Out there in the world,  these strong, resilient people may not look like much, but they are warriors of the highest order.  They fight their battles in obscure places, often in silence, sometimes alone, with little applause.  

Some are not alone, and their caregivers have selflessly rearranged their own lives in the service of their loved ones.   They are warriors too, and their stories of overcoming in caretaking are often amazing.  

And yet, most still can smile and even laugh.  Most have a grip on the day and live it out this day with as much joy as they can manage.  And most of those I have talked to have an abiding faith, made stronger by all they have had to endure.  Their pain has forged their faith into their greatest weapon against despair.

# 8 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer- "Face in the Mud Humility"

 Looking back after writing down all that has happened to me and the challenges I was and am still faced with, it leaves me with a sense of awe.  Awe not in what I did or endured, but how it all worked out.  Truly, Romans 8:28 applies here:

"All things work together for good for those who love the Lord and are called according to His purpose."

No way I could have experienced the level of dependency on God if I had not been placed "between the sword and the stone," so to speak.  When you can contemplate your own death and be accepting of it, I  think you reach a new level of being.  Things are different.  You have reached that level of "face in the mud humility. "  

When I have fervently prayed for others out in the woods at my prayer spot, I  would often put my face into the leaves and pray.  My view is that the pride of a person is in his face.  When the face is humbled, perhaps pride can be put aside in humility to get closer to God in prayer.  

The goal now is not to bend into the world and all the problems, not worried about when facing life and death, but always recall and renew that level of humility by remembering all God brought me to and through and all He still has in store. 

# 7 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer- I Am Grateful

 Second round of Chemo this week and the next.   Actually, I feel really good.  Perhaps, the year has been plagued by this cancer all along, leading to easy injuries and nights of sleep lost?  Can't say.  

I am walking daily for an hour or more nonstop, and I do some light weight exercises, plus I walk up and down stairs to get the cardio up. Everything is working, and in fact, I am gaining weight.  Gaining weight on chemo?  

But, most importantly, I still feel close to God in all this.  A little success and feeling much better hasn't made me forget how I got here, and all He has brought me through.  My goal is to remain grateful to God, no matter what happens next 

So many people are praying for me and I want to remain grateful for that.  Sometimes, I can almost feel their prayers.  I would have never experienced that if hard times had not come upon me this year.  This morning I am grateful.  I am blessed.  Praise God.

#6 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer- A Walk in the Swamp at Night

 The end of a week off from chemotherapy, and I feel surprisingly good.  But the unknown is out there.  I have a little less than a year of this left.  It seems like a long time to live on the edge of your seat, but it's my only choice.  

I walk for about an hour nonstop most mornings.  Reports are that exercise gives me the best chance for treatment success and side effect minimization.  I would have exercised anyway.   

But it seems like a hold your breath, wait and see game; a long trudge through the night in the swamp, slow going, sometimes hard to make forward progress.  Sometimes not caring much at all about how it all goes.  It is a plethora of emotions you sometimes can't see coming.  

But, hear the sound of the sound of the water moving as I step forward.  And there is the sucking of the mud when I pull my loss from a place where the poor footing stopped me.  This is so much like endurance sports.  Maybe that's how God prepared me for this?

#5 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer

 The PET scan was good, and that made me glad.  No surprises.  Every turn of this journey has led to something worse.  Yesterday, broke that pattern.  Thanks God.

I have a week off from treatments and injections.  Maybe my arms will heal up from all the sticks over the past month and a half?  Overall, I don't feel that bad.  But the question that keeps me in the recliner when I should be moving is "Where do I go from here?"  What do I do with the rest of this life with its limitations?   I want to serve God somehow, but have not been led to any particular things.   

I am in "wait and see" mode, and it feels unnatural.    The treatment is to last a year so it's not like I have a lot of latitude, but I do know there is something I could be doing besides resting up. But all I get from God is "wait."  So I will.

#4 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer

 Adjusting from the role of work hard, play hard, to the more sedate role of cancer patient has been a chore. But I am doing it.  I put God in charge of all this, and my role is just to adjust to His will for my life; Obey.  

I do walk most mornings, over an hour sometimes, but I take time to stop and pray every 20 minutes or so, at a spot where I  have prayed for so many other people over the years.  The October mornings are perfect for this out in the quiet woods.  

I pray more, I rest more.  I have more faith.  I am closer to God, and I can face death without remorse if it comes.  I am ready.  I have been ready to go home.   My only regret would be the heartache I would leave my family.  But I have given them to God as well and He will be with them if death comes.  I am blessed. Amen.

#3 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer

 A week done of therapy.  So far so good. No noticeable side effects.  It is a change in direction in my miles of the journey.  This weekend is to be the half ironman I came close to entering and, in fact, booked reservations for.  Knowing what I know now, or perhaps because of what I have experienced, it doesn't seem as  interesting anymore. I can't quite describe the non-caring for something I was so passionate about. 

A month of downtime and seeing all the other sick and ill people, the many struggles, many worse than mine, the loved ones giving chunks of their lives in care for loved ones.  There are some amazing, suffering, giving, loving people, doing heroic things with no crowd, no "you're an ironman," just doing the right thing quietly without applause.  

There are so many stories out there, in the clinics and hopitals, many more, more terrible, more varied, than you will hear from participants on the race course.  This is not taking anything away for the effort and sacrifice of ironman participants at all, but there is that other ironman world of the sick and infirm and dedicated and committed people taking care of them.   Thank you God for these fine souls.

#2 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer

 First treatment yesterday and so far so, so good.  Not side effects though I am sure they are just down the road to some externt.  I will be on this for a year and the prognosis is good for remission. 

This feels like training for an event. It comes with most of the things to plan for and overcome or mitigate.  It is a schedule to be followed for the best success.  Some workouts are hard...hence the side effects...there are days off.  we do this for three weeks and then three weeks off.  But the center point is the same - success through persistence,  consistency, and an unflinching hope.

I have that hope not in myself but in God..  I have turned this schedule over for to Him to be my coach. Whatever happens succeed or fail, remission or not, God's got this. 

"I do believe You are the One.  The One I hope to find, my only Hope God's only Son."  Line from a song by the Gaithers. I Do Believe.

#1 Miles of the Journey Through the Rapids of Cancer

 The miles of journey lead on, meandering across the landscape of the times we live in and consisting of the time we have here. There are long, straight, slow stretches of the journey, and then a hard turn.  The banks become tall bluffs, the water courses at greater speed and there is no more tranquility but only the desire to try to stay afloat in this part of our river like journey. 

I've been diagnosed with cancer. 

My first treatment is in a couple days and they will last a year if I do. Funny how the priorities along the river journey can turn on a dime. This blog was started as a journey to the ironman and ending in a battle of personal survival.  

It's funny too, how "the things of earth grow strangely dim."  Ironman is not on the back burner anymore.  It's not even on the stove.  And underneath the doubt and fear are the everlasting arms.  I am closer to the Lord than I ever have been, and I see things more and more from His perspective.  In doing so, I find myself saying, "I've wasted it so." But I don't want to waste any more of it on "look at me" self-promotion.  I want to be a useful servant - whatever.

Because God's In It

 Sort of a milestone today.  It is like Thoreau wrote that he left the woods for as good a reason as he went there.  He had spent enough time on this one. (not exact) Not that Thoreau never went back into the woods anymore, but the degree of focus had changed.  I understand that with triathlon.  I might consider doing another one. But I, too, have other lives to live. 

Initially, my deliberation itself suggested I might be being turned toward different things.  Usually, I am all in on the possibilities of competing in a triathlon.  This time, not so much. After I did my own yes-no thing over this, I finally got real and prayed about it. 

The answer wasn't long in coming.  I noticed a certain excitement at the possibility of "not" doing the events.  I began to picture myself at the event, and I found that picture suggested I didn't want to be there. 

In my picture, I  heard people say, "You are my hero. I hope I can do what you do at your age."  Those were always such a compliment in the past, and I wondered if I was showing up just to soak up some of  these compliments on my age and ability.  Was this another "look at me" exercise?  Glorifying myself based on one characteristic - being old?  How is God glorified in all this?  

Then the validation of my answered prayers came when I tried to book rooms  - the prices!!  Unbelievable!   I think triathlon went on up the road to a better neighborhood and left  this old worn-out, fixed-income athlete in the low-income housing. 

But God is in the low-income housing too, and I am happy there. And though I have been at this a long time, I meet this new dawn with a smile because God's in it..

The Hand I Have Been Dealt

      Even the best of plans can go awry.   Endurance sports is hard to keep up with as I age up.  It seems there is so much more that demands attention.  Workouts outside often see, to come with on-course guilt.  Being a caretaker of sorts can slow you down, sometimes to a crawl, while motivation has the same flame as a rain on campfire.  

Despite all this, one knows you must go on. The ability for caretaking is accomplished only when one is able, and being able is best done by being active. Life is a sort of paradox.  

There is no win here except to know that the hand that is being played is the one that is dealt.  It is a challenge and a calling to do the right thing; to be the right person: to be the person God called me to be, whether it is training long hours, crossing a finish line, or attending to others. It's the hand I've been dealt.  I am an endurance athlete in life itself.  Praise God

Staying a Warrior

 -Exercise is like faith.  By exercising, one shows faith that the sweat, the pain, and the discomfort will all be worth it in the end results.  The Bible says faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.  By doing our workouts and our training, we are working towards things hoped for, and the fact that we are willing to put tangible effort and discomfort into it, is the evidence we have faith in the end results.  

Faith and fitness seem so intertwined that it is hard to untangle them.  As evidenced by this blog over the years, faith and fitness  travel together.  So when I think I want to get old and cut back and not train hard and stop hoping big, I have to consider what will be lost and what will remain. It is not a pretty sight.  Training fatigue is nothing compared to living in a vacuum.  I know this thinking isn't for everyone, but as for me and people like me,  "we are the warriors."   Praise God, there will be no peace inside if I am not a warrior until I die.

Keeping Records - I Am Blessed

 Keeping records.  It has always been my thing.  The beauty of it for me is that most of the time, I can look at my records on training and pretty much tell where life is going.  Which brings me to this: It is as I think Aristotle wrote, "We are what we repeatedly do."  So, in records, I can see what I have repeatedly done and see pretty much who I am at the moment and whether I am headed for a better me or is life going down the toilet?  

Other people may have other methods of maintaining personal discipline in life, but this is my way of checking my weather.  Plus, records can be my own cheering section.  When I look back and see I had the best week in a couple of months, it seems I can hear the applause, though no one knows or cares except me.  Records are the medium for my own personal delusion, which has kept me sane, happy, and mostly on course through 40-plus years of this.

Also, records can be a source of gratitude.  When I look back and see all I have done, it is impossible for me not  to say, "Thank you, God.".  I am blessed.

Getting Stopped by the Officer

 

My wife and I were having so much fun that the policeman thought we were drunk.  Perhaps I was driving all over the road, but there wasn’t any traffic.  We were just having so much fun and laughter; lots of life, and some of my best jokes-in my opinion, of course.  The swirling bright lights behind our vehicle caused me to pull over, wondering what the problem was. 

Driver’s license, insurance card, then:  “Have you been drinking, sir?”  I laughed, but the officer failed to see the humor.  “Walk on this line from here to there.  Ok, now touch your toes.”

I was still a little giddy from the good time we had been having.  “Officer, ninety percent of the people in the world can’t touch their toes.  Does that mean that only ten percent of the population is sober at any one time?”  I laughed and tried to make light of, and enjoy my first ever field sobriety test.   I had not had alcohol in more years than I could remember, so I knew if I failed any kind of sobriety test, they would have to make it up on me.  I was sure. 

The officer soon loosened up a bit as it became quite apparent that we were really having a good time, really were, without alcohol or other substances.  We both could enjoy life to its fullest without help, except for the peace that comes from that surety that is Jesus Christ. 

“Watch where you are going and try not to wander all over the road when you're having a good time.”

 I can’t be sure, but I think he smiled just a little to himself.

“Thank you, officer.”

 

Arriving at the Begining Again

 When I began running, I couldn't do a quarter mile.  It started out of frustration  but ended up staying with me for i a lifetime 

I can remember so well that first angry morning.  Though I had done lots of physical work chopping wood, building a fence, digging septic lines, and other back-breaking jobs, I wasn't physically prepared for running.  I couldn't breathe.  Of course, I was in the throes of an asthma attack at the time but later, when I wasn't, breathing was still an issue.  I remember that first time I completed a whole quarter of a mile, hallelujah, and praise God when I finally did a whole mile. That was forth three years ago.

Now, after 32 marathons, 53 triathlons, and hundreds of events of various lengths and having logged mileage equivalent to over two times around the world at the equator, I found myself struggling again to run a quarter of a mile. 

An injury digging on my septic system was compounded by an injury in a bike wreck has me not moving that much the last four months.  Though I did some minimal indoor biking, my breathing is not doing well with running or trying to run that quarter mile, Just like before. Could it be that the more things change, the more they remain the same?  

Sometimes you have to go back to the beginning to find that not much has changed.  There is you, your drive, your persistence, your expectations from it, and there is still your frustrations. And the frustrations from forty-three years ago show up in life today.  

So the decision is always the same with every setback;  Is the ending or a beginning?  Am I to " arrive at the beginning and know it again for the first time?

This time it will be different, but it will be built upon the same.  Faith, hope,  and gratitude to God that I still can. 

Is It Enough?

 Maybe it is because I am so aware that I don't have that much longer to live?  Perhaps, I don't want to spend precious and depleting time getting over some injury?  Perhaps it's something like Thoreau wrote about when he left Walden.  He says something to the effect that he left the woods for a good reason, as he went there and had other lives to live and had spent enough time on this one. My goodness, but I have spent a lot of time on this one.  Is it enough?

This is where the rubber meets the road:  Is it enough?  At times like this year, mostly recovering from injuries, it certainly seems so.  Surely, after all I  have done in endurance sports, I don't have anything to prove - or do I? 

Perhaps I just need to prove I still can.  Perhaps proving I still can that helps hold the life door shut and not let feeling old get in.  Maybe there are things to yet prove.  Perhaps there are mountains,  though different mountains now, to climb? 

We've Changed But the Incline of the Hill Hasn't - Push On

 

 

Everyone who has run or biked a sizable hill knows the feeling.  At first, it isn’t too bad. Momentum carries you into the first part of the incline.  “This hill ain’t so bad!”

That is sort of how it is with youth.  Things come easy.  If we are blessed the hill goes on for us, they keep coming at us.    Into the hill, the legs start to strain and the breathing is getting more labored.  The arms are having to pump harder to help out.  Now you see upon looking up that the hill seems so much longer and steeper than it did before—and harder. Yes, it gets harder almost with each step. So at this stage of life the gloves start coming off for the youth.

It goes on and on, pedal stroke upon pedal stroke and we seem to be barely moving.  Dig down.  This is where the rubber meets the road.   We are youth growing up, becoming men and women in the real world. 

Then, it seems, as we begin to approach the top of the hill, we reach the steepest part.  This could be middle age, facing your frailties and now diminished ability.  You have changed but The hill hasn’t.  It stands as tall, as steep, and as resolute as when you were much younger.  

Now, it gets really tough.  Dig down. Don’t walk.  It hurts!  Don’t quit!  Keep going no matter how slowly. Then there is a more level spot as the hill gives up before we do and we breathe deeply to recover our wind and smile as best we can at the beauty of  it all. It was a very good day.  I was  a very good life.

 

Trusting in My Landmark

 Being a triathlete again seems so far away.   I look across this great sea of issues, and I can't see the other side that well. 

It reminds me of when I fished on this lake ten miles wide in my small boat.  To get back across the lake, the object was to find a landmark on the other side and focus my travel back on that landmark.  Sometimes it was cloudy.  Sometimes it was hazy.  Sometimes it was raining.  Sometimes the waves pitched the boat about, but I had to strain and be sure to focus and travel in the direction of my landmark.

The water has been rough lately, and there have been rains and storms.  My little boat seems so ill-equipped for this voyage. My landmark is God.  And, I know I must pursue that landmark across this lake of severe disappointment.  

So today, I put the bow of my boat into the waves and head toward the landmark.  He will be there to guide me, whatever the weather.  Today, let me put fear aside and trust in my landmark to guide me across.

Fire Inside

 We have to be challenged.  We need to be confronted.   If life appears easy, maybe we are probably missing something.    Sometimes when things get too bland, ordinary, and routine, there is a hunger within that can't quite be explained, described, or exorcised.  We can find ourselves going nitnoid about things that really don't matter, maybe because we don't have anything in our easy lives that does matter. Perhaps we are programmed to regularly need some kind of quest, an adventure.  

Yeah, you can get the new car, the latest hot gadget,  and know all the attributes of your phone and iPad, and be so smart and informed, but that is not nearly enough. Sure, it's fun, satisfying, and pleasurable at the moment, but it is not sustaining.  Its like eating candy to satisfy your hunger.  You feel good and full, and have energy and focus, until the sugar spike ends.   

Could we be hungry for more solid food that feeds our true selves?  Could we be hungry for less certain outcomes?  Real adventure?  

When tapping on an icon on yet another screen doesn't do it for us, where do we go to fill that empty spot?   What do we do when multimedia is just not enough to fill the empty spot we can't describe?  What do we take to cure the growl in the stomach of our souls for the real food we were made to eat?  

Growth is restless for something else, perhaps something a little more wild and uncertain? Growth happens on the edges of the comfort zone.

Have we muddied the waters between here and there, between where we are and what we could be, between what we are doing and what we could be pursuing, between who we are and the person we could be pursuant to be?  Are we squelching that passion to chase an uncertain outcome?   Down deep, I think most do, but some suppress it more successfully.  

Thoreau wrote, "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation."  That was in the 19th century. I can't imagine the amount of desperation lived out now.  

Actively envisioning doing another triathlon, yet only half-heartedly planning  it, still quickened my pulse so that I wondered where I had been living all this time   . Life is good.  God has been good to me. I am grateful.

 However, I am not ashamed to say, something is still missing, and I think it is some instinctive lure toward adventure, an activity maybe a little larger than myself, beyond my strength,  involving a degree of risk.   Maybe that is why some people climb mountains, have affairs, drive fast,  take arduous long bike rides, go to theme parks and take risky rides, and so on.  Maybe there's something in the DNA of some of us that calls us to the edge of ourselves and beyond. 

  

Looking at the races, envisioning the event and everything included, fills me with a fervor for life and the kind of Hope that, for me, only God is capable of creating. 

  

Love the Climb

 When I fell across that hole I had dug, it pulled something in my upper back and shoulder.  It has taken a couple of months to start getting better.  Sleeping still isn't really comfortable.  But, like so many injuries before, it is all part of the miles of the journey.  

Endurance sports have gifted me through these miles, with several cracked ribs, pulled shoulders, trashed knees, torn up hands, cut legs, sprained wrists, a split sternum, and a few others I can't recall at the moment.  They hurt. They all had their moments to torment, but the built-in miracle called the body eventually healed them. They are all part of the journey, a part of the life.

As with every injury, the returning ability gives me such gratitude. The mountains God has put in my path have taught me how to climb and to love the climb even more.  

Face the Truth if You Want to Be Free

 Life is slippery sometimes, and sometimes, the comfortable, safe, and easy things grease the hands to such an extent that real life  can become hard to hold on to. It slips away moment by moment, attending to maintaining the status quo of an easy life. It becomes a continuing personal, physical, and even spiritual degradation process. Instead of honing skills toward peace, performance, and personal improvement at some risk, we became proficient at quickly making excuses. Self-deception and denial can become our sport and greatest skill. Small aches become perceived as big pains and small issues can take on the appearance of major problems.  

We try to give it a value it doesn't have. But self-deception never really works. Deep down, in quiet moments, we know the truth. We just can't confront it directly. It is just too hurtful to our comfortable little lives built on illusion.  We are scared. 

So, I guess I want to be fearless.  The Bible says,--"Ye shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free."   Face the truth.  I want to be free.  

HAVING AND BEING YOUR OWN PET MONKEY

 My wife once told me, “I love living with you. You're so amusing. It’s like having your own pet monkey .”   I think she’s right.  Lots of things I do and think don’t make sense, and are not rational. And so I deliberate what I want to do with all its limitations and then ignore the obvious; the pet monkey is amusing.  So onward I go, unrewarded and unheeded,  plodding off into the night to fight a war no one cares about. 

However, I can tell that moments when life gets vivid reawaken what we already know, and getting closer to my truest self is a sort of reunion. The liberation felt by being oneself, warts and all, is amazing.

And so, at 81 I am still going to ride bikes. Though my doctor says my knee is a trainwreck and I should never run again, but have surgery, I am running, however incredibly slow it is.  My young grandchild walks faster than I run, but the pet monkey says,” Try anyway.”

So, I smile as I write this because it  all makes life and what’s left of it fun and “amusing.” I would rather be that pet monkey than a well-liked imitation of someone else

Would I Do It All Over Again?

 Miles of the Journey......sometimes I wonder did I take this journey or did this journey take me?  Think of the "other things" I could have been doing if I  had not been training for the last 40-plus years.  Think of all the time I could have put into other possibly more worthy pursuits.  I could have been a success rather than an endurance bum looking for the next hill to climb.  Am I going to say like the song says, "Lord help me, Jesus, I've wasted it so?"  

Yes, the journey took me.  It took me and molded me into who I am ., good or bad, success or trivial pursuit,  what you see is the end game. And the journey seems to have been a series of small decisions to take certain roads over others.  Am I satisfied with where my choices and my journey have taken me to or who my journey led me to be? 

In asking myself this question, I have to look at others who took other paths and made different decisions at various crossroads.  Is there a journey destination I would want to emulate if I could do it all over again?  I can't see it from here.  I can't see a life I would rather have had than this one in endurance sports.  

After 32 marathons, 53 triathlons, and countless other running and biking events, my story makes me smile.  Yeah, I'd do it all over again.  Praise God for the life He gave me and the closeness with Him that was part of the bargain along the Miles of the Journey.

Thank God for the Moments

 The last bike I bought was 11 years ago.   I was  70.  Now at 81, why in the world would I need a new bike?  Beats me.  The child in me is still kicking, like in a mother's womb ready to be born.  There will be the pain of childbirth, fitting the bike to myself, and the biggest labor pain:  paying for that puppy.

It's a gravel bike, and with the limited road options around here,  this will give me training on dirt roads with drop handlebars; more options for training.  So I would want to be training?  Didn't I just say I am 81?  I thought so.

No matter how much longer I live to enjoy this new bike and its possibilities, it is worth it for the moments, however few they may be. The other night it had just gotten dark and I was coming in on my mountain bike.   Everything was perfect with the weather, the time of day and with my body on the bike.  How great this is, I thought.  I wish I could ride more.  It had been a long and physically arduous day but in the moment I didn't feel fatigued at all.  I had no lights so continuing the ride was not an option out here in the woods. 

However, I had the moment, if only the moment. A moment to remember and relish in lesser times.  So I am buying the bike for the moments.  Thank you God for moments.

To The Things That Matter Most

 Monday the weather is supposed to be on the upswing and I am planning a coming-out party so to speak.  Whether I do another triathlon or not, I want to put  some order to things.

Hopefully, I can schedule and plan for certain time allocations for all facets of my life to certainly include training.   This will involve some real prioritizing of what I value most and consequently try my best to spend what's left of my life on the things that matter most.

 So, here's to going with that in a couple of days.  There is a quote that speaks to that by Stephen Covey, "The things that matter most should never be at the mercy of the things that matter least." Thoreau wrote, "Our life is frittered away by detail."   

So the program is first of all to do less frittering and pay more attention to the things that matter most, to include the people who matter most.  

However,  I am not that good at this and my effort is being bathed by prayer for assistance in putting "first things first."  That, of course, is God.  If I do that, I believe the plan will fall into place. "Seek ye first the kingdom of heaven and all these things shall be added unto you." Amen

I Wouldn't Want to Be Anyone Else

 Things are all gung-ho and push on until you have an injury.  It's easy to be inspired when you are in good health and nothing hurts.  But when back spasms come and go at frequent intervals, all the rah-rah  fades into the background.  

Now it is teeth gritting and plod on time.  The only reason you keep going is because you said you would to yourself.  It was fun before, not so much now. 

Over the years of doing this crazy stuff, I have come to realize that this is where endurance sports begin and end;  in the solitary, with no fanfare plodding forward through pain and discomfort and no one really knows.  You don't really know why either except this was important to begin with. But you move on and embrace the pain.

The reason may be on the other side or the end of the course and on the other side of the pain.  Even then you may not know completely. It's not amenable to analysis. It is just who we are; no answers, no excuses,  the way God made us.  Yeah, it hurts.   But thanks God.  I wouldn't want to be anyone else. 

Gratitude for the Spirit Within

 Today, I found myself looking at the race websites and thinking of events I would like to go to.  I found some events that looked really good, but more noteworthy, I found that few things in life stir me like the prospect of challenging myself in an event. 

Lots of things have changed but this hasn't.  It feels so natural like good conversations can be.  Today is about being inspired.  It is like the apparently dead fireplace ashes stirred to find coals under all the ashes.  With a little help, they turn to flame, like my own childlike passion coming to life with prospects of competing and being challenged again.   

This passion is like God.  He never leaves.  He never changes.  I am not sure I want to either.  Thank you God for the stirring of the heart that looks beyond to see the crest of the hill the soul is craving to climb.  Thank you, God, for putting this spirit within me.  

Putting Your Face in the Cold Wind - Can We Take It Too Easy on Ourselves

 Yesterday, I rode and ran in the cold.   Lately, it seems, I have unconsciously avoided harsher conditions to train in. Back when I was more of an animal, I did that all the time.  The weather was just something I had to put up with, like a sore knee or drivers who seemed incensed with acting like they were going to run me down. 

Yesterday, there was something added that had been  missing and I felt more like an athlete because I had put up with the cold.   The miles of the journey have taken me away from myself at times, and that could be a good way to get lost.  

And the question is:  can we take it too easy on ourselves sometimes?  As we seriously age up temptations can go from booze and women to a nice cushy recliner in front of the fireplace on cold days. It's easy to get really old in a hurry.  Just let yourself go and avoid the hard spots on the road.  The word I have heard is resistance exercise slows down aging.  Maybe we should exercising our resistance to taking the easy way.

Yeah, it's all part of life. And there is nothing wrong with a nice cushy recliner in front of the fireplace either, that is, after a good hard workout putting your face into the cold wind for a while.  

Yeah, take the hard road.  It is too easy to get old.