Not Just For Me

It is not just about me. Our fitness can benefit others as well. This is not a new idea or concept, and the idea was spawned by a post from one of my favorite bloggers.

The story goes: I was exiting the back door of church Sunday after the service. Coming down the sidewalk I could see a large man in a wheelchair, off in the flowerbed. A lady was there trying to help, and when I asked if I could be of assistance he told me it would really be appreciated. His wheelchair had gone off the edge of the sidewalk right into a fire ant bed. The wheel was stuck, and ants were crawling all over his wheelchair. It was heavy but I was able to lift the man and the wheelchair back on to the sidewalk, where I began knocking ants off the chair.

Afterwards, I thought how blessed I was to be able to be in the right place at the right time with the right physical ability to help. And, I thought of my family, my grandchildren, my friends. If they were caught in a dangerous situation, I would need to be physically capable to pull them from danger to safety or whatever the situation required.

And if for no other reason, I need to go on with training, with a fitness lifestyle. If I am to be of service to others, I must be capable myself.

Can Heaven Be Better Than This?

This is Texas at its best: perfect temps, not much wind, bluebird skies, wind flowers everywhere on the roadsides, pure heaven for a bike rider. The longer I rode the more I seem to soar like I had a strong wind behind me, but I didn't. I had my own magic carpet ride over and down the flowered hills.

Taking it all in, I thought, can heaven really be any better than this? Sure. But, I so appreciate the free sample of today.

Athens Race Report

Great race! Felt mentally, physically, and spiritually fit for this one; so ready for all that the event entails. This event will begin my organized training plan pointing to a long course event in the fall, God willing.

The weather couldn't have been any better. Everything went smoothly in the readying process. After setting up my bike and transition, I was ready for the water. A practice swim was easy. Things were flowing. There was a rhythm.





Into the water, rhythm and flow; not going all that fast but smooth, steady, untiring. It was over before I realized it. Off to transition, on to the bike. Gosh this great. I pass rider after rider throughout the course. For the first time ever in thirty-six triathlons, no rider passed me. Before I knew it, the bike leg was winding down.
Off the bike, put on my cap and on to the run course. Steady, steady, not fast, just steady. People pass. I pass some that had to walk. Steady, steady, and the finish line. Praise God !


And for only the second time in all my triathlons I am first in my age group. On the podium for photos and my medal. Second place in my age group was a man who was part of a three generation team of family members competing in this event. Wow! Talk about a legacy.

This was a good day. And, if I never have another, I will be so thankful for this one. But, my hopes, my dreams for this journey are that I have many more days of soaring spirit. And tonight I will pray again for that.

Insatiable Appetite for Childhood

This is not my first triathlon but it still feels like it. Tomorrow, we leave for Athens, Texas for the sprint on Saturday. Even having done this event several times, even having completed many marathons, and thirty-something triathlons, I am still excited about this.

I am so blessed to have health and opportunity to do this, but I feel especially blessed in that I still love to play. I haven't grown up - and though the years say otherwise - I haven't grown old. I still have this insatiable appetite for childhood. Got to go start packing, reviewing my checklist, readying my toys for playtime. Thank you God.

Rescue Work in Spandex

The vehicle's tires began to blow out as it skidded sideways down the freeway off ramp Miraculoulsy, the car didn't turn over and finally rocked to a stop right in the middle of the feeder road and blocking the exit ramp.

I had just passed that exit ramp as I was doing my bike ride on the feeder road. The vehicle and its occupants had been on quite a ride, and I did not know if anyone was hurt or worse. Throwing my bike down in the grass, I ran the short distance to the vehicle. Inside were two little old ladies just sort of staring straight ahead. I pulled hard and the door on the passenger side creaked open.

When asked, they said they didn't think they had any serious injuries. Thank God ! About that time a car started coming down the off ramp. Oh my!

I was easy to see with my bike helmet on and multi-color spandex bike outfit, but I waved the car to a stop anyway and asked the driver to call 911. Then I ran back to the vehicle and got the driver side door open. It was hot and after the ordeal they had been in, the little old ladies didn't need to swelter in the heat. I told them not to try to get out right now. Then some more cars started down the off ramp. Back up the off ramp, I got the cars to slow and every one asked could they be of assistance. Several pulled over and went to see about the little old ladies. Another helped me direct the traffic that was beginning to back up.

Finally the wrecker came, then the police, then the ambulance. Thank God. I went back to the vehicles and talked to the little old ladies one last time. They would be OK. The driver was in her mid-eighties and the passenger was older than that. The driver told me she was puzzled about all this because they had prayed to be kept safe on this journey.

Needed no longer, I slipped away from the crowd to finish my bike ride. The ride gave time and pause for reflection. For one: the world is not all bad. People can be very good when someone else is in trouble. I don't know how many people asked me if I needed anything, or could they help?

Secondly: perhaps the little old ladies should have prayed to ask whether or not they should have attempted such a trip at their ages and abilities in the first place, rather than asking God to bless their own decision. That one struck home: Yeah, I've done that.

"I Hear Footsteps"

Will I ever get old enough not to miss my father? I am 4 years older than he was when he died of cancer. Shortly after that long and painful ordeal was over, I wrote the following which is in my small book, I Hear Footsteps. Tomorrow is his birthday.----------------------------------------

“My Father was very ill. For months he had been passing blood. He had a cough he could not shake. The once toughened skin had the yellowish, clammy pallor of a cancer patient in the last stages. IVs were attached to both arms for the transport of nourishment, blood transfusions, and pain medication.

“I read to him from the Bible. ‘In my Father’s house are many mansions, if it were not so I would have told you….’ Unable or unwilling to accept fully what I knew in my heart to be true, numbed somewhat to the whole experience; I was unwilling to confront the obvious.

“I went about my care giving life acting as if I thought I could make a difference; as if my love, my caring, would stem the tide of the ravages of cancer on my father’s body. This day, this attitude was held in spite of the realization of the gravity of the situation only a few weeks ago.

“After seeing the cancer specialist in the finest cancer hospital, my Father had turned to me and said, ‘Marv, they have just messed around and let this stuff eat me up, haven’t they?’

“I could not lie. When the report was given, I had been there. Trying my very best to control the quiver in my voice, trying my best not to cry, I summoned all my courage and said, ‘Yes, Daddy, I think they have.’ We never talked about it again.

“This one night later was another day of the waiting game, making sure the nurses gave him the morphine at the prescribed intervals to keep down the horrible pain. I needed to go run. To get away, to push myself, to exert myself, somehow soothing my own pain. He understood. As I dressed to go run around the hospital parking lot a few times, my Father talked to me about my running. He had never really thought very highly of my running before. Somehow though, as his illness became more severe, he had begun to try to understand and appreciate my commitment. As I opened the hospital room door to leave, he stopped me with, ‘Marv?’

“He looked at me and smiled across the dim lighted room, across the tubes, the machines, the bags and bedpans, across the generations and across the personal differences that had often separated us. Grinning a familiar grin that I will never forget, he said,

“‘If you hear footsteps coming up behind you, just look around and it will be me, running behind you.’

“‘Oh, Daddy, I wish it were,’ I replied and left quickly to cry out of his sight.”

Many years later now, I do hear the footsteps. He is running behind me. I cannot let him or others like him down. Yes, I am called and yes, I am driven by the footsteps that I hear in my heart. ------------------------------

Happy Birthday Daddy.

Blurred, Beautiful Moments

"Either good outweighs the bad or we forget the bad...." is a line from on old country and western song by Tom T. Hall. Looking back at my 30 years in endurance sport, the past has blurred to beauty. There have been no bad events, no bad experiences. Oh I have hurt horribly during some events, and I have disappointed myself countless times in my performances. But even the tough times, the disappointing times, breathe a smile upon reflection. It was all good.

And with that smile embraces a hopeful future of other events; successes and failures, disappointments and exhaltations. The best is yet to come. The pleasant memories are just that, but the future is before me, to be lived; and to join my collection of blurred, beautiful moments that make me smile. Thank you God.