Triaggieland Tomorrow - Yet Very Much Land To Be Possessed

Am I ready? Yes. Tomorrow AM I will leave home very early for the Tri Aggieland in College Station, Texas. Am I nervous? No. And that is the scary part. Usually, I anticipate endlessly. Today, I hope I remember to get everything ready. So laid back about this one it makes me wonder if it is time to quit this stuff?

I have often said that when I don't get all spun up over an event, I might consider taking up other activities. Maybe I have had my day, my time. The race published a chart of participants and their ages. My column on the chart was just about the last on the wasteland of right hand side. One had to look close to see if that was a column there at all. There are fewer men over 60 in the event than under 18.

Am I a relic? Should I quit and leave this game to these younger folks? Should I take up a more sedentary pursuits more indicative of my age? That might make some people my age feel more comfortable.

But I think it would make me uncomfortable leaving active life while there is still fire burning inside and capability is still present. My goodness I set a PR last year at the Rose City Triathlon. My running isn't that great but in training, I keep getting better. It doesn't seem like the time to take up shuffleboard and game shows just yet. It does seem like almost a slap in the face of God to just lay down and quit while He has placed all that is needed within me, even at my age.

In the Book of Joshua, God told Joshua, the leader of the Hebrews, "---Thou art old and stricken in years, and there remaineth yet very much land to be possessed." Caleb was 85 years old and he said, "As yet I am as strong this day as I was in the day that Moses sent me: even so is my strength now, for war, both to go out, and to come in."

So why am I not as nervous before this race? Could it be I am having my best year of training EVER? Could it be that this is not a priority race and I have the big picture perspective that this is a testing event to see where I am at on the way to a much larger challenge? Could it be that this peace God is giving me will translate into a really good performance tomorrow? I feel as strong as ever and, God willing, am ready for war.

Chosing Peace

Running on my trails the other day, I was practicing a more upright running position. Too often I watch so carefully for obstructions at my feet that my running form gets distorted with far too much forward lean. On a part of the path clear of major obstacles I had the shoulders back and head up moving well - for me. A glance down, a shape, the markings - snake! A copperhead stretched out right across the trail. My foot landed just a couple inches behind its tail and I did a one-foot spring jump that I didn't know I was capable of. The snake never moved. Should I kill it? It is a poisonous snake, right? He could be out here again on the trail, couldn't he? But, the snake still lay stretched innocently across the trail, with my large footprint right behind its tail. We were at peace. I let him live. He had chosen not to bite and neither would I. I chose life for the snake and for myself: a beautiful morning of life not marred by violence, bloodshed, and a need to destroy because of something or someone's markings, and capabilities. Oh for a world like that! Oh, that I might live more often in that peace. Perhaps I should choose peace more often?

Saying No to Say Yes

There never seems a perfect time to do this ironman training. Life seems to always be standing in the way, barring the path. And then there is the physical and mental part of all this with myself. Just getting myself through this is hard enough. Twice the "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" have turned my charge back. Nothing has really changed. I still have this place here to take care of. There are pastures to mow, trees to cut down, roofs to repair, roads to repair, fence lines to be cleared, fences built, and garden tended. And I have a ninety-nine year old mother in the local nursing home that I see about several days a week. Plus, I have two grand daughters that spend a lot of time with us and want as much of my attention as they can get. Yeah, nothing has changed, except me.
God help me, I think I am starting to believe. I am wading well through all that might diminish my effort. I have said "no" to many second best things I could be doing. I have said "no" to the impulse to train just a little bit more instead of focusing on recovery. The impossible is becoming to seem possible and I am more able to peaceably say "no to the good things and "yes" to the best thing: that impossible dream that may just be possible.


Too often we wait because the time is not opportune. If we wait for a perfect set of circumstances, we will never begin at all. If we want a miracle, we must take Jesus at His word when he bids us to attempt the impossible.

The Gospel of Luke
William Barclay

Fathers Day - Walks On Thin Ice.

Fathers Day two years ago we were threatened by wildfires here. Tense moments. We had to pick out what was important and put it in the car for a fast departure, if required. Amazing how truly important things rise to the top without a lot of thought, like life buoys popping to the surface of the water when released from underwater.
http://milesofthejourney.blogspot.com/2011/06/revelation-in-wildfire.html

One year ago on Fathers Day, I had an allergic reaction to something, creating serious problems. I truly thought I was going to die as we made the trip to the emergency room. And I remember that on the way to the emergency room we passed by the intersection where I get on my usual bike route. And, I thought of the great times there, thanked God for those times, and wondered and doubted a little, I would ever experience that again. http://milesofthejourney.blogspot.com/2012/06/scary.html

One more time Fathers Day approaches. Today, on that same course, I heard emergency vehicles coming my way. The traffic was at a standstill. An accident? A fire? As I moved closer to the front of the stalled traffic, I could see a vehicle turned upside down and people looking under it. The ambulance was very near. Not good. I prayed for whoever might be involved in this accident. And, at the same moment - like with the wildfires - without much thought, I tapped into what was really important: My relationship with God through Jesus Christ and the people I love. Fathers Day last year taught me that this life is a walk on thin ice. We can fall through any moment. Do the people I love know how I feel about them? Is there something left unsaid, undone?

At home, I made a point to tell my wife how much I appreciated her and loved her. I wrote my sisters and my son to tell them I loved them. I went to the nursing home and told my soon-to-be 99 year old Mother that I loved her. And I thanked God for giving me this past year, this past 12 months of success and failure, heartbreak, and joy, but most of all for this wonderful relationship and that supernatural capacity to love someone as I can love myself. Moments like these Fathers Days help me access and initiate that sometimes dormant capacity. And in loving more, I have found I walk more closely with Him. For after all: "God IS LOVE.

"I Saw You There"

It is hard to fully convey to those not well-acquainted with ironman, how difficult it is to accept that an ironman dream has died. The mistakes made had caused injury, and the injury crushed my ironman: tough to take. My sister, God bless her, was trying her best to understand, so I sent her a video of Ironman Texas, taken from that website. After viewing she wrote me back. She said she really enjoyed the video and that she can see why I want to do these crazy things. Then she wrote that during some of the finish line footage she thought she saw me there. Really? Yes, Marvin, I thought I saw you there. He looked just like you. I got misty. For months I had seen myself there too. Now, she had seen my dream. I am thankful for that. My prayer is that she was seeing into the future; seeing the completed picture of my moment in time at Ironman Texas 2014? Train. Paint the picture. God willing, maybe next year my sister can say "I saw you there" and it be me.

Trusting.

And it begins-again. Third attempt; begins today. If history repeats itself, the odds are against success. So far, this morning, the world has not come crashing down on me. Didn't even spill my coffee, no one sick, injured, that I know of..yet. Sort of holding my breath as each time I "come out" the devil seems to pinpoint my position and open up the big guns on me. As the scripture says, "I am now ready to be offered..." I'm in --- again, a little more resolute, a little more wary, and a little more hopeful. When I failed at this last ironman attempt, the answer to my prayers was "trust me." So I did and so I will.

Connected - CB & I Triathlon 2013

The energy stirred within me just checking in my bike at the transition area the day before the CB & I Sprint Triathlon. After 40 of these things it is always so refreshing to be there at a race venue. I love these people, this alive and charged environment. I seem to reconnect to part of why I do this stuff. It is my lifestyle. It feels like coming home. • Talking to a nice lady while walking to the race venue before daylight race morning. She’s done several triathlons but none this last year: cancer. This race will decide for her whether she will continue to do triathlons. She is seventy-one: heroine. • In the port-a-john line pre-race. A young female remarks in broken English from the back of the line that she hopes she get’s this bathroom business done, as she has not picked up her timing chip yet. The lady next to go calls back down the line for her to come up to the front of the line and be next. • The male contestant at the swim start dropping to his knees to pray. • My own prayer that I would get through this on my bad leg, for His glory; for His glory. The words resonated: I felt connected. • The wonderful opening prayer. The national anthem. The dawn breaking fresh upon the water. • The painting was complete: Thank you God…Lets go! Slightly crowded at the beginning of the swim; some body contact. Someone grabbing my ankle as I veer off course a little to avoid swimming over someone. My big, boney elbow thumped into flesh. That had to hurt. I say “sorry,” but no one can hear. Completely blinded in the turn. Can’t see the next buoy. I am led only by momentary glimpses into a blinding light. Turn again and vision improves: my body begins to move really well. Now threading through slower swimmers. I am on; into it! So soon, does the swim end so soon? No wetsuit strippers? Oh my, this will be interesting. Tug, pull, grapple, wrestle and finally I am out of that wetsuit: longest transition ever. Starting the bike slowly and people are passing. But, I don’t want to push the bad leg. My caution had little resolve. Three to four miles in and the ride begins to build. No pain! Rock and roll, I’m moving really well; no fatigue. The smooth pavement beckoned me to a higher cadence. I answered. I’m in. How great is this? Now I am passing people; lots of people. Yes! Is the bike over so soon? I almost walked out of the transition area for the run. It hurts, but can’t walk just yet; plenty of road for that yet. Help me here. This is going to be rough. Find the rhythm, however slow. Runners are passing me in droves. Keep the rhythm; for Your glory. The leg hurts with each step. Try not to limp. Many of the people passing me saw my age printed on the back of my right calf and said things like, “you are an inspiration” or “I hope when I am your age I can…..” One man even patted me on the back and said something nice about my performance. “Thank you,” I always replied. Try not to limp, keep the rhythm. The leg didn’t seem to hurt as much. There’s the finish. Focus, rhythm. I hear, the announcer, Jon Walk, calling my name as I approach the finish line. His hand goes out in congratulations. “Good job, Marvin.” I am so into it, I absent mindedly keep running through the finish line chute past the volunteers. “Sir, sir, can we remove your chip? “ I finally stop and a finishers medal is placed around my neck and the chip removed from my ankle. Now the leg really hurts. “Where is the medical tent?” I hobble over there for my first time ever to be in the medical tent. The announcer - again Jon Walk - for the awards ceremony calls out the 3rd place winner in my age group. My expectations for an award were not high. If my age group were sparsely populated I might have slipped into third, but now that didn’t seem to be the case. The 2nd place winner was announced : not me. Oh well, I did the best I could; no regrets. “ And first place is Marvin Dittfurth!” Is this for real? For Your glory – Amen.