Like a Little Child

I've been reading a popular book about learning to give thanks. If fact, I finally finished it last night. I cried my way through most of it. I think because it seemed to lay open my mommy heart more than anything else. The main idea of the book did sink in some too. The idea that thankfulness opens me up to trust God and to let Him be God has been powerfully shown in my own experience. That being said, I don't often practice thankfulness in the middle of a school day filled with a six-year-old struggling to sound out words, a three-year-old not wanting to learn to use the toilet, a ten-year-old needing freedom to make his own choices even when those choices cause me extra work. I don't often practice thankfulness when the work of the day never fits in the day. I know that I should be thankful for the work that I have to do, for the family that I get to serve each day. Maybe that is why the prayers of my three-year-old have caught my attention. He just did turn three, but he has been praying this way almost from the beginning. His prayers often sound something like this,"Thank you for Daddy to be home safe. (When daddy is still days from getting home.) Thank you for Grandpa's knee to get better. (When Grandpa is still in physical therapy.) Thank you for my sister's head to get better. (When the stitches just got put in.)" His prayers ARE hope. There is probably truth to the idea that he doesn't really understand the difference in saying thank you and in asking for his needs, but no one else prays that way. He copies so many other things. Even if he doesn't know that his prayers are out of order, I wonder if they really are. Maybe he has it right? Maybe my prayers should look more like his. "Thank you, God, for the patience to listen to struggling reading, the kindness to help a little one learn to wear underwear, the joy to, without grudging, serve the ones that you have blessed to fill my life." Maybe, I should have faith like my son who knows only that he is loved and that his needs are met. Maybe, I need to rest in the unfailing love of the One who orchestrates each day for my good and His glory.

A Reason to Run

I've been blessed these last two weeks to have some special time to spend with my boys. We've been franticly trying to finish logging our miles for their running club this summer. (We have six more miles to run before Sunday.) I love the running and sharing my love for it with my boys. I enjoy the physicality of our runs. The boys are getting to the point that they are fast enough that running with them isn't easy. There are times that we walk up hills that I run when I am alone, and there are walk breaks sprinkled in, but there are also all out sprints to beat the "bear" to the next goal. The running with them is fun, but the real treasure of our running, has been the time that I've had to listen. They have so much to say that I miss in the business of our days. Yes, I am with them all of the time, but, time to really listen is short. I know that come Sunday, they are going to think that our early morning runs should be traded for an early start to our school day, but I hope to convince them that there is value in our mad dashes up the hill each morning. I'm not sure if I will resort to bribery or not, but the thought has crossed my mind. After all, these days are short. Soon I won't be able to keep up with them, and they will be running their own life's race.

A Most Amazing Man

Our family spent some time near Leadville, Colorado this last week. We played in the lake, hung out with friends, enjoyed some beautiful scenery, and ran. My boys and I ran down a jeep road that lead somewhere. They each wore a Garmin watch. I loved watching them respond to the instant feedback. Maybe more of that in school would help their performance? I also got to do some running. Not that many miles, but I did get to tackle the Leadville Trail 100 course as it takes off out of Twin Lakes. Making that mile long climb up to the single track on a rocky jeep road, made me reconsider the stats that we'd looked over the night before. The slowest women that completed the race this year averaged around 15 or 14 minute miles for the entire 100 miles. That means that my 18 minutes up that slope wouldn't have cut it, and I was hiking up in the daylight without having run 60 miles before and having crossed three mountain already. As I was carefully picking my way down the mountain, I thought of my husband's experiences on these trails. He had a disappointing day on Saturday with a rough patch over Sugar Loaf that cost him too much time to make up. Still he averaged 21 minute miles while running up a crazy mountain and feeling horrid all the while. He once told me that the year he made it to Twin before being cut it was crazy to be at the top of that descent and know that you had ten minutes to run that last downhill mile. I was coming down on fresh legs and still couldn't navigate that road in less than ten minutes. Every time that I get a chance to run the trails up at Leadville, I am even more amazed at all that my husband has accomplished as a part of his races there. I am so proud of the crazy man that I married. I wouldn't change the experiences that we've had at Leadville as they have only helped me to see how truly amazing he is.

The Best Kind of Speed Work

Most of my miles these last two weeks have been run with my boys as they are logging miles for running club. We run up and down the hill near our house. The last few days, I've noticed a trend. They run like kids. We alternate between frantic rushes of speed and plodding walking. Then there is the perpetual game of tag with the back runner taking on some terrible form such as that of a bear. It is the most fun speed work has been in a long, long time.

Core Work

It seems like there are endless ways to relate running and fitness to life. My husband and I found another one this week. Our fifteenth wedding anniversary was a few weeks ago, and this week we managed to get a few days away at Steamboat Springs to celebrate. We slept in, went to bed late, ate dinner at 10:30 p.m., and just spent time together uninterrupted. We talked about everything serious and funny. We spent time being together without talking, just holding hands and looking up at the mountains. But, for me, the best part of our time together was the running hikes that we took up Mt. Werner and Fish Creek. We covered about 8 miles the first day and 7 or so the second. I especially enjoyed the time on Fish Creek. When we left, my legs were feeling worn. On the way up, I was just keeping up. As we progressed up the mountain and saw the late day-sun shining gold on the waterfalls, my energy returned. I think it had much to do with the encouragement of the wonderful man that was sharing his memories of the trail with me. He'd run this section down during the Run, Rabbit, Run 100 mile race last September. We got up on top and saw some amazing views of the world that God has created for our enjoyment. Some places the trail was cut from the rock face of the mountain. Sometimes aspen whispered to us as we passed. The undergrowth brushed our arms, containing ripe raspberries, gooseberries, and several unknown varieties as well as a yellow, purple, white, and orange wild flowers. Most of the time, the sound of rushing water accompanied our conversation. We kept stopping to marvel at the beauty of another waterfall or pool. We even stopped to dip our toes in one pool on the way down. The big excitement came as we were nearing the last mile of the trail. We'd been running, but my socks were slipping. I stopped to fix them. Justin stopped to wait for me then shouted back, "There is a bear on the trail." I thought he was joking, but looked up to see a small grizzly bear looking at us. He wasn't far down the trail, but after looking at us, he wandered off the trail. We were thankful for that as the only way back to the car was where he had been. We kept up the noise and finished with a bit of running after getting well past him. During one of our downhill running sections, we had remarked how what we'd been doing in the days that we'd had together was a lot like core work. In running, we talk about strengthening our core to keep us from getting injured and to help make our running stronger. Taking time to be with my husband this week without the usual demands of our lives, strengthened our relationship much the way I want to strengthen my core for running. The time invested in our relationship will help when the struggles of life come. I will confess that the core work that we got to do this week was more enjoyable than other types of core work I've done, but I think that the rewards will be much the same.

Loving Egypt

Why did God punish Israel by having them wander the desert for forty years? He could have destroyed those who failed to believe Him in one fell swoop. He could have used a plague as He did at other times; had the ground open and swallow them all up; or send snakes into the camp. Why did He condemn them to wander? Wasn't He punishing everyone for the sins of just a portion of the people? What could have been His purpose? I think that there were probably many reasons, some that we won't know until heaven. Probably, He wanted to teach the people that sin has consequences, not just for ourselves. I think that there was also the practical part of not killing off the older generation and leaving just young people, think Lord of the Flies. The one idea that strikes closest to home for me today is this: What if God allowed the people to wander the wilderness for all those years to make them hungry? What if He wanted to change their appetites? If the people had gone from Egypt to Canaan , would they have appreciated the goodness of the land, or would their hearts have longed for the home that they had left? I would guess that after nearly forty years of eating manna, that the fruit of the land that God provided for them when they entered Canaan tasted pretty good. It makes me think that when hard things happen in my life, maybe God is trying to starve out my love for my "Egypt." Maybe He is longing for me to long for Him rather than the dainties that this world has to offer. Maybe He is trying to wean my appetites from the base to the exalted. A meditation on Joshua Chapter six.

Through a conversations with some military wives whose husbands are soon to deploy and a book that I am reading, I've had a thought: Our lives are not infinite. I live as though my time, relationships, routines, and life are endless. I look ahead on the calendar or make plans for "ten years from now" and assume that everything that I love will still be where I expect it to be. I put off running today with the idea that I'll fit it in tomorrow. That assumes that I will be able to run tomorrow. I rationalize not sitting with my little one who is asking to read a story, saying, "We'll do that later." He may not want to read when I'm finally ready. I fail to communicate my love for my husband, because I'm tired. After all, I can tell him tomorrow. I fill my time with "have to dos" instead of with the things that I would do if I knew that my time were limited. When on earth, Jesus Christ knew that his ministry would only last three years. He knew that the end was near from the beginning. How did that knowledge shape His work? What if I lived with an urgency that saw past the daily grind to the fact that my moments are scare? Would I make different choices? Would I say, "Yes" more? Would I say, "No" more? I'm not sure how to wrest my days from the tyranny of the urgent and walk instead in the arena of the important. I would guess that it has much to do with seeing the smallness of my life. I would guess that that change in seeing is best achieved by spending much time looking at the vastness of the God who created me and who ordains my days. When I see Him rightly, I can't help but understand better my place in relation to His majesty. Rightly understanding the size of the Earth, is easier when the Earth is compared to the sun or other object in our solar system. When I look at my life in comparison to Him, I am better able to understand its finite nature. I can only echo Moses' words: "So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom."

Greenland 25K

Last month after running the Xterra 24K, I was a bit disappointed in my race results. The best way to describe it was that I wasn't a bit sore the day after the race. My kind and helpful husband signed me up for the Greenland 25K to give me a chance to remedy the situation. I'd worked really hard for three weeks between the races and was feeling quite optimistic until the week before the race when the usual butterflies and doubts made their entrance. Husband to the rescue for the second time. He talked me down from the edge by reminding me that this race was going to be fun. And of course, he was right as usual. I thoroughly enjoyed the beautiful scenery and the sounds of birds, cows, and trains along the course. It also helped that we had talked through a race strategy. When the pain came, I was able in small measure to push it aside and focus on the plan. I'd read an inspiring race report just days before. (I bet you can guess who pointed it out to me? That's right him again!) In the race report, the writer had mentioned the idea of hunting down the other runners in the last stages of the race. Long ago, I'd loved passing runners at the end of races, but have recently lost my hunting instincts to the point of letting other runners pass me near the end of races. I'm happy to say that no one passed me in the last four miles of the race. Even on the hills. The final time wasn't all that I'd hoped, but still faster by a bit than last month. (This race was a mile or more longer than last time around.) I did get to pass about five or so other runners in the last four miles. Not a bad turn around from the way that I've gotten used to running races. It was a mental victory! I must also add that this afternoon, heading downstairs to hit the treadmill, I was still gingerly lowering my weight to account for the pain in my thighs. I guess I did meet my goals after all!

Promised Land

When I was younger, I often wondered how the Israelites could be so dense as they wandered in the wilderness. As I read the Old Testament, I often thought that if I had seen the hand of God as clearly as it was shown to Israel, that I would have responded in faith and obedience. That was then; this is now. Today, I was reminded AGAIN that I care too much about what others think. It was just a trip to town to run errands, but when I came home, I was nearly in tears over several imagined judgments that others might have made. I know not to place too much value on the opinions of those who do not know all the facts. I know that my value and worth is determined by my position in Christ. I know that He will be my final Judge and that His judgement is right. That thought is both comfort and motivation. He knows my true heart. All the things that I think that I hide from others, He knows. He loves me, and He will rightly judge me. It is with that realization that the righteous tears of repentance fall. He is the One that I ought to strive to please. Truths that I've known, but that get buried in the swirling chaos of this wilderness. Someday, by God's great grace, He will bring me to His promised land, and my filthy rags will be traded for His glorious robes of righteousness.

One of those runs. . .

Had a rough week this last week. My husband was gone, and it seemed that wherever I turned, there was more to do than I could even hope to do. I gave up. I stayed up too late, I slept in instead of running. I just sort of coasted. Then I felt guilty. Like I had failed to do right and that there was no hope of doing right in the future. Well, I haven't gotten much more sleep since my husband got home. He came in late one night, and we spent the next night in the emergency room with our two-year-old getting stitches until midnight. I did run though. I'd planned to do a long run this week as my last before a race that I'm running the first of May. After our late night last night, I really would have preferred taking a nap, but my husband was running hill repeats so I decided to join him. On my second trip down the hill, he mentioned a time and distance. Just a number that he'd seen posted by some running friends. I know he knew that I would take it as an instant challenge. He was right. For the next hour and fifteen minutes, I pushed myself every step. I was focused. Then it happened. I ran. Not the painful, straining, "I have no legs" kind of run, but the one that is more like flying. That feeling doesn't come often these days. The last time I remember it was almost a year ago. I guess if I think about it, I've been feeling it creep up on me during a few runs over the last few weeks. Days when I find the usual setting on the treadmill seems just a bit too slow. Needless to say, I am smiling a broad smile tonight. This is why I love running. The feeling of sailing, of strength, of satisfaction that comes from doing something well that God made me to do. It is a joy that comes from tasting deeply of the great goodness of God's world, of seeing just a tiny piece of how the world might have been without sin and death.

Xterra 24K in Colorado Springs

Last Saturday, I ran the Xterra 24K in Cheyenne Mountain State Park. I'd really wanted to run the 25K at the Cheyenne Mountain race a bit later in April, but had to juggle the race schedule around my husband's races. I thought that the Xterra would be close to the same race since it was nearly the same distance and on the same trails. I have to say that the feel of the race is just different. The people who put on the race do a fine job, but the Cheyenne Mountain 50k and 25k is a special kind of event. I think that it had a bit to do with the fact that the 24k was the longest of three races being run. There seemed to be a lot of people running the 5k. It was different for me to be one of the ones going the longer distance. Because of the other races being run, the course was two loops. I think that I felt a bit cheated not getting to run North Talon! My second lap was seven minutes slower than the first lap. I had lots of company on the first lap and ran mostly alone on the second, but the second seemed to pass more quickly than I'd expected it too. I made a mistake and ran with too many clothes on so was hot for most of the race. On the way up the hill the second loop, I remember thinking that there was a reason that I liked the 800 in high school. It was over before one really had time to think about how bad it hurt. There is something very challenging about trying to trick your body into doing what it really can handle when the mind is telling it to stop. It was a beautiful day and a great opportunity to run trails in the park that I'd never run before. Getting to run the loop was a chance to figure out the lay of the land a bit better. The chance to explore with your feet is a wonderful part of trail running, and I was thankful for the opportunity. The worst part of the race was the next day. I had some muscle soreness in the night, but had no soreness the next day. That is a sure sign that I didn't work hard enough. I'm still trying to figure out how to push myself to the level that I know that I can run. I was somewhat pleased with my time as it matched the time, I'd run at Cheyenne two years ago for a half marathon, and this distance was a bit farther. That fact coupled with the lack of soreness means that I need to pick things up a bit in my next few runs. I'm thankful to God for the chance to enjoy the world that He has created and to use the strength that He has blessed me with.

Parenthood

Being a parent seems to be a bit like trail running. There are lots of ups and downs and corners that you can't see around. The trail is littered with roots and rocks that trip you up, but there sure are some amazing views along the way!

Skiing

Last year, I got to take my nine-year-old skiing. He took to it like a fish to water. He had such a great time, that he wanted to share it with his siblings. We finally got a chance to take his brother and sister along a couple of weeks ago. The first day was tough. I struggled to teach two little ones the basics. When we reported to Dad about the day, I was about to throw in the towel, but the next day we hit the slopes again. After a few trips down with the five-year-old, I looked up to see the ten-year-old helping the eight-year-old down the mountain. They were holding hands and it was the most that the eight-year-old stayed up to that point. After lunch, the boys convinced me that they were ready for the big mountain. We loaded up on the four person chair lift and headed to the top. The first run down must have taken forty-five minutes. The next one took fifteen, and the five-year-old was stopping at intersections waiting for Mom and big brother and skiing through tunnels. The eight-year-old wants to be a ski instructor starting with teaching all of his friends so that they can come skiing with us. He is also making plans for his first triple black diamond run. The ten-year-old was skiing ahead of us and making runs down the little hill by himself. My five-year-old daughter wanted to ski with him the last run and make more runs on the little hill with him. Once I read a line attributed to Abraham Lincoln. It said, "This too shall pass." We never know what will happen if we just keep skiing. The darkest days come just before the bright return of the sun. There is reward if we keep going. The faces of each of my children reflected joy and confidence gained from facing a challenge thought too difficult, but overcome. What a gift to be able to give them! I hope that they will each remember that lesson and carry it over to other places in their lives.

"Water!!"

I've been reading in Exodus about the people of Israel's trip through the wilderness. It struck me that when they lacked water after leaving the Red Sea they were being led by God. The writer of Exodus points out that God did not lead them through the land of the Philistines so that they wouldn't see war, be discouraged, and turn back to Egypt. That same guiding God, led them where there was no water. The God that later makes the water flow from the rocks to provide for them in the desert and Who makes bitter water sweet, tested their faith in His ability to care for them, by taking away their ability to see His provision. He withheld something that they needed to live so that they could see their need of Him. Is God withholding from me the thing that I think that I need just so that I can see that He is enough? So that I can see that He is able to provide all that I might need? Maybe it is a relationship, a baby, a routine, an answer, a job, a reassurance, a diagnosis? Maybe He is just waiting for me to rest in His sufficiency so that He can open wide the flood gates of heaven and fill my mouth with the sweetest water that I have ever tasted. Maybe He is just waiting for me to trust His loving goodness? Maybe He is waiting for me to admit that He is enough and that I don't need to claw and scratch and fret and worry to try to meet my own needs? For me it is feeling like I need to have a routine, a settledness that leads to feelings of peace. He wants to be my Peace even when all the children are upset and needing more than I can give while dinner burns and the remnants of the last meal crunch underfoot. Please, Lord, help me to let You be enough today.

Joy!

Trackless, white road. Walls of evergreens. Soft, white glitter falling from a gray sky occasionally crossed by a black bird. Hearing windsong, birds, and footfalls.

Trashed

On the way to town for the kids' basketball games on Saturday, I had too much time to think. I haven't been able to nail down my next race so my weekend long runs have been progressively getting longer without any real idea of what I'm working toward. I know that I want to run half marathons on trails with hills. Since, I've worked up to 12 miles, it seems sort of unnecessary to just keep adding miles although I do expect to run some longer runs in the next few weeks. So the idea of running harder miles presented itself. I know that I can cover 12 miles. Why not make the doing a bit more challenging? Where can I go to copy the sort of run that I would have if I were racing at Cheyenne Mountain? Well, the hill from our house is about .73 miles of not gentle uphill. What if I do twelve miles of hill repeats? Now the plans that I've looked at do include hill repeats and long runs, but usually not in the same workout. I set my sights and started out with a run up the hills with two sons, a husband, and a dog. There may have been more snowball throwing and dodging than running, but we covered the miles with a short conversation with the neighbor thrown in. The next repeat was also run with the husband and dog, and we made a bit better time, but the real work began on the third trip up the hill. The next five repeats were a test of setting my legs, arms, and lungs to a rhythm that would get me through the long miles ahead. I ran all five up hills in less than 10 minutes and all five repeats in 17 minutes or less. The last was my fastest at 15.07 for a mile and a half. I did the last one with the husband as a walking cooldown. When we got back he headed in to pick up his game with the kids, and I made supper. It wasn't until I crawled into bed that night that I noticed the aching muscles in my legs. They were trashed. I did feel like the workout was a good test of my ability to set my sights on the goal and manage my output of energy so that I could maintain my forward progress the entire time. I don't think that I've been able to do that often before especially in races, especially and not hold too much back. I'm very good at talking my self out of putting out enough at the beginning and having too much left. All in all, it was a good test. I enjoyed the challenge and had fun on the way.

The new snow tempted me this morning. Even though it was dark and cold, Tika and I braved the outside run. It is always better for my spirits to run outside. The crescent moon was all visible in the East. We saw tracks where the deer had crossed the road and where dogs had wandered. The yelps of coyotes, the lowing of cattle, and the crunchings of snow under foot were our sound track. The fog froze to my eyelashes. The lacy edge of the trees stood out dark against the pale orange sky. I didn't have to beat any wandering dogs with my stick. Tika didn't get to eat the bunny that she spooked from under the tree. The kids were just coming up for school when I stepped in the door. I'm grateful for the glory of a morning run. God is good to me.

Robert Frost

One of the many joys of homeschooling is that my children ask great, difficult, fun questions. This morning, in language practice, my ten-year-old was putting quotation marks around titles of poems and short stories. He started asking questions about the works mentioned. Having studied a bit of literature, I was able to answer most of the questions. I even pulled out Norton's Anthology of American Literature, and we read "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost. I greatly enjoyed sharing with him a poem that my mother often quoted to me as a child. Some days I LOVE teaching!!