Week Before Christmas = Lawn Care

 

Leaf Cleanup and Lawn Prep In December

I had a successful Sunday this week, measured with a very low bar. I like to be productive, normally that means yard work or exercise. I spent close to 3 hours in the lawn mowing and raking the leaves for the second time. Why does it matter to anyone? It’s a slow news day in my world. Stay with me.

 Saturday was the first time. The size of my lawn dictates that I do leaf cleanup in 2 parts. It's a seasonal situation for me. Saturday I mowed the front, Sunday the back. The front lawn is much easier. I didn’t do any raking because the leaves are spread out enough and don’t clog the mowing deck. It does take a few passes to mulch them up effectively though.

However, the ground was still wet on Saturday. Nothing is worse than trying to mulch up heavy wet leaves. I managed with my small push mower. The trick is to raise it just high enough where the leaves don’t escape, but still crunch up to a fine powder. The next heavy rain will dissolve whatever organic material still exists in the leaves.

Sunday I had more time. Christmas this year is in Texas for me. Phil and Carolina are hosting me and my mom for 3 days. I’ll drive back on Christmas Eve. It’s a 5 hour trip so it’s not too dreary. Because we won’t have a family gathering this year, Justin and Tabitha hosted a dinner Sunday night. Dad and Joyce were there as well. We had a breakfast dinner complete with pancakes, egg casserole, bacon and Danish. I had all morning and afternoon to clean up the yard. Fortunately, the sun came up in the afternoon on Saturday and dried up the wet leaves. My back yard is much denser with leaves than the front is. My mower wouldn’t have been up to the task. I bagged a good section of it first, 6 bags worth. Then I ran the mower over it. I needed to make a few passes to properly chop them up.

That took a while longer than if I’d just mowed the lawn. With all the new grass seed in the lawn I’m hoping this year I’ll have a thicker growth and fewer weeds. Last year I paid a friend to come out and spray the whole yard for weeds. It killed everything in sight, not the grass thankfully. It was after that I realized how little in my yard was actually grass.  By August the soil was ready to plant again. I used a small tiller and dumped a healthy amount of seed on the bare spots. Not to mention, I overseeded the rest. After getting the leaves up I went to Lowes and bought two bags of crabgrass killer and threw it on the lawn. I asked for a “preemergent”. The clerk had never heard the term so I took my best shot with the crabgrass killer. I’ve got high hopes this year for at least 50% more grass and 50% less weeds. This is the first time I’ve considered improving my lawn and not just mowing it.

I called a few companies last year to get quotes on a treatment plan. None were less than $500 for the year. That’s just too much. I’m sure it’s worth the money but it’s a lot of money for me. The next best thing was to call Daniel (brother of Michael) to spray one good time. The rest was up to me. No matter how long I’ve lived here, it’s still strange to be talking about lawn care just before Christmas. I get that it’s technically not Winter yet, but up north it’s already snowed at least once. We didn’t always get a White Christmas but the threat of snow was usually there. Leaves cover the ground still in Oklahoma. I prefer this climate even though it’s not dramatically different. I’d say 10 to 12 degrees on average. That’s hardly Montana and Florida, but it’s an easier way to go in January and February.

Until the spring I’ll wait patiently and watch the ground. Merry Christmas everyone!

 

Brideshead Revisited: Book Review

 

Religious Themes Run Through Brideshead

Brideshead Revisited: The Sacred and Profane Memories of Charles Ryder is a novel by Evelyn Waugh set in the 1920s and 30s. After World War II, grand estates like Brideshead and a large swath of the nobility disappeared in Great Britain. The cost of both wars killed off a lot of wealth and land holdings. This is the setting for Brideshead, the twilight years of the nobility.

Brideshead is the estate of the Flyte family. It’s the central home and symbol for the characters, their Catholicism and culture. It ties them together through the years and hast a lasting impact on their characters even when far from home. The main characters are in college at Oxford in the early pages, circa 1925. Charles Ryder, the narrator, befriends a wealthy aristocrat named Sebastian Flyte. Imbued with a child’s desire for fun, Sabastian is mischievous and usually drunk. He carries a teddy bear around, representing his immaturity. The Flyte’s are Catholic. Charles rejects religion, criticizing whenever possible their beliefs in God and their adherence to church norms. It eventually causes friction. Brideshead is owned by the Marquis of Marchmain. Waugh uses Marchmain and Flyte almost interchangeably despite the first being a title. He married Teressa Flyte (Lady Marchmain) before the first World War. Then had an affair and moved with his lover to Italy, rejecting Catholicism and his wife.

The book begins in World War II but quickly jumps back to the carefree college years of Mr. Ryder. Charles Ryder is a Captain by 1944. Commissioned to paint great houses, his unit stumbles upon Brideshead Mansion. It’s been converted into a guest house for traveling soldiers. The recognition of the home prompts him to recall the Marchmains and his connection to the family. Here the novel really gets going. In their college years they drink and party a lot. Charles visits Italy with Sebastian and meets Lord Marchmain and his mistress Cara. Despite their wild fun, Charles begins to mature while Sebastian falls into alcoholism. Eventually he leaves school, unwilling to kick the habit. They remain friends but see less of each other after that. Lady Marchmain is lost on what to do about Sebastian’s drinking. Charles isn’t the help she was hoping he’d be for her son.

Years later, Sebastian ends up in Morocco at a monastery in very poor health. The monks care for him but he can’t kick the habit. It’s the last we hear of him. His sister Cordelia tells Charles he’ll probably die there, unable to go anywhere else. Charles has success as a painter and even goes to Latin America for a few years. He comes back to a wife and kids he hardly knows. That’s when he begins an affair with the oldest Flyte daughter Julia. Both are married but decide to divorce their respective spouses despite Julia’s Catholic tradition.

The final act of the story has Lord Machmain moving back home to Brideshead to die. Lady Marchmain passed on years ago, but it’s this coming back to God theme that drives the story. Wayward sons and daughters, scattered across the world all hold the thread of religion close at hand. It’s the reason why Lord Marchmain returns, it’s the reason Julia keeps bringing in the priest to read her father the last rites despite his public rejection of the faith. It’s why two of the Flyte's, Bridey and Cordelia, enthusiastically support the church. Even Sebastian, found solace in the monastery despite his crippling addiction and emptiness. Charles is moved as well to come to the faith. I won’t say how and spoil it though.

There is a description near the end that sums up the impact of religion in our lives. Charles, now Captain Ryder, walks out of the chapel at Brideshead after saying a prayer. He notices the occupying soldiers had lit an old lamp near the original stones that the early builders had started with. No one’s used it in years. But the efforts of the early builders who thought it essential to have a chapel were not in vain. He is telling us that God’s efforts to reach man carry on through riches and poverty, peace and war. The efforts of people like Lady Marchmain, who carried the torch, are alive still and affecting the next generation.

A lot of people think the book is about the good ol’ days of the aristocracy in Great Britain. That’s certainly present, but to me the religious themes were stronger. I say "religious" even thought it’s Catholicism that Waugh is concerned with. Despite the different personalities within the family, it remained the torch that burned bright for all of them.

Golden Corral and Buffet Food

 I Survived A Night at Golden Corral 

I went to Golden Corral tonight. I haven’t eaten there in years. As a kid we always went to buffets constantly. Actually it’s as close to fine dining as you get as a kid. When you have 5 siblings it’s just the best option. I remember the food being tasty, but how discerning was I as a kid? Lunch and dinner were always subpar at Golden Corral. I don’t remember them being this awful though. I’ve avoided going there for years because I knew the steaks were fatty and tasteless. Any of the sliced meats were risky. Not because they were undercooked but because they had no flavor.

 What possessed me to give it another try?

I wanted a hearty meal, comfort food as they say. Cracker Barrell would’ve been a better idea, but some part of my mind betrayed me. The mashed potatoes weren’t bad, you soak them with gravy anyway. The desserts were passable but the pot roast was fatty in spots and tough in others. I gave up cutting into what felt like a rubber ball and pushed the plate away. The mac & cheese was bland. The fajita chicken was dry and the vegetables were hard. I’ve never had a good meal at GC. But on a low scale, you know what you’re getting into when the group you’re with says “I vote for Golden Corral tonight”. You can make the best of it and select dishes that aren’t total crap. But for some reason, my brain glitched enough to where GC sounded like the perfect fit.  

With most willfully bad decisions you can claim a small victory. “I didn’t want to get drunk last night but Frank was in town! He’s always so much fun” What’s the upside with Golden Corral? The best you can hope for is to eat a reasonable amount instead of the Thanksgiving plus size portions you’ll put down. After that you’ll have mini food coma, if you don’t lie down from the stomach pain before that. Come to think of it, being hung over is less consequential.

 In my defense it had been probably 10 years since I’ve had dinner there.

I remember it being a typical buffet restaurant, low quality but passable. My old rule was that breakfast at GC was the best option of all three potential meals. It’s hard to screw up eggs and bacon. Even the biscuits and gravy tasted like something created in the kitchen instead of a frozen pack, opened an hour ago and warmed up. Potatoes are either hash browns or home fries, thankfully there is little to create. Just make sure the seasoning lands on the warm parts. 

And like most buffets you can always find a dish that suits your taste better than most. But dinner is tricky for some reason.

This isn’t true with the Chinese buffets. They aren’t fine dining either, but there are at least hot dishes with flavorful crab and noddle casseroles. If you go on a Saturday or Sunday the hosts rotate the food on a regular basis so it doesn’t get rubbery. Besides, Chinese buffets aren’t THAT Chinese. Most of them carry a few pans with American staples like meatloaf and sliced ham. In other words, I can’t think of reason to ever go back to Golden Coral. I’m putting it on the never-again-unless-family-demands-it list. It will sit right below Cici’s Pizza for the same reason. Both are suitable for holidays or special occasions. During those times you have to go to places that cater to large groups of families with kids.  

As expensive at eating out has gotten, I’ll have to learn how to cook. My resistance to cooking so far has just been the time it takes. When I get home from work I want to eat. I don’t want to spend 45 minutes making a meal. That’s why the crockpot is the best option, it’s ready when I get home. The grill is another possibility. I cook in the summer more than the winter though. Anyway, I burned out on brats and grilled chicken. I’ve cooked too much before, by the 4^th day of eating the same smoky flavored meat I’m ready for anything else. Also I don’t have a gas grill anymore. My incident from a few months ago ended my gas range for good.

Charcoal takes longer, is messier and requires fresh bag after fresh bag. You replace charcoal a lot more than you replace a gas tank. I’ll have to look for a new one after Christmas. It’s not difficult to plan meals for the week if you take the time. But I never want to take the time. Cost is going to change my mind eventually. I can’t keep going to GC and expecting a quality meal. They’ve lost me.

Foolishness and Sin Nature

 

A framework for Understanding Foolishness: Ecclesiastes 10

There are two kinds of foolish in the world, the lunatic and the intellectual. We usually lock the first type up for their own good. We used to at least. Now we let people roam the streets until they harm themselves or someone else. The second kind is respected but equally dangerous. They deny the existence of God and use their influence to undermine morality. Not all intellectuals deny God, but history is full of movements steeped in the philosophy of nihilism. 

Ecclesiastes 10:12-14 says “The words of a wise man’s mouth are gracious, but the lips of a fool shall swallow him up; the words of his mouth begin with foolishness, and the end of his talk is raving madness. A fool also multiplies words.”

In true Solomon fashion he gives a contrast, the wise does this and the fool does that. He leaves it vague enough so we can fill in the blanks. We’d rather hear something specific about the fool. What kind of foolishness, or what subjects does the fool focus on? But wisdom and foolishness should be self-evident. At least that’s the idea I get when I read this. Wisdom is clear when it’s beneficial. Foolishness is clear when it’s ruinous. It’s a distinction we all see.

Lunatic Foolish

I went for a short run a few years ago in my neighborhood. Homeless people are usually nearby. On occasion I’ll stop and talk to them. I’ve offered prayer. Some accept, others don’t. A few are completely out of their mind. That’s not a surprise. We use words like “homelessness” to describe people living on the streets because it fits. But it’s increased at an alarming rate. It’s beyond whatever natural distribution used to exist. I don’t pretend to know all the reasons, but it’s at least related to deinstitutionalization and laissez faire attitudes toward drug use. It’s just cheaper to get drugs and live in a tent than it’s ever been. Responsibility for this group was always done on a local level. Eventually the financial burden was kicked to the federal government when Medicaid came about.

That’s a complaint for another time though.

 People on the streets need Jesus. This hasn’t changed. One guy was sitting on the steps at a small Methodist church on the corner. It’s right along my normal jogging route so I stopped for a second. I offered him a granola bar and he declined. The exact details of our short conversation are lost to the ether. I remember thinking that he was completely insane. His thoughts, logic and stories were disconnected. He complained that the cops had beat him up. I got that much out of him. Did he realize how nutty he looked and sounded? Was he aware that most people would see him as dangerous because of his twitchy, shaky movements? He was most likely a junkie. I said a quick prayer when I could get a word in. He agreed to listen to me at least.  

Multiplied Words

Whenever I think of Solomon’s description, I imagine my encounter with this man. He multiplied words like a madman and spoke in disconnected ideas. At one end of foolishness there is a crazy man who dumps words and phrases like a snow plow salting a slick highway. He covers everything with foolishness. But I also think Solomon refers to something closer to home. We don’t encounter crazy people every day. But even people with rational thinking can be fools. Even those respected academics, writers, intellectuals and philosophers can have nonsensical ideas.

Anytime a respected individual disputes the existence of God, they speak foolishness.

Intellectual Foolishness

I watched a debate with Richard Dawkins and John Lennox. Dawkins is a renowned atheist and biologist, Lennox a Christian mathematician. Both men are Oxford professors. Dawkins rejects the existence of God, because of the “pettiness” of a creator who judges the sin of man. He’s a brilliant guy with a gigantic hole in his rationalization of the universe. The moral code we live by came from somewhere. Natural selection can explain why the fittest species survived, but it can’t introduce a moral code. The only lesson is survival at all costs. Our laws aren’t based on dog eat dog survival. They're rooted in Judeo-Christian tenets about morality. Dawkins seems to think morality is self-evident. Other times, he thinks morality itself is kind of irrelevant and tough to define. But a lack of definition and structure leads to chaos. In the long term, a society becomes tribal and war like.

Denied Reality

 Mankind lives in a state of sinfulness that’s been in existence since the garden of Eden. Without the “pettiness” of a Savior, we are doomed to eternal justice. Atheists like to separate the idea of God into categories or myths. “Which god are you referring to?” is a common refrain. But they clearly understand the basis of the question, do you believe in God, or at least, in a universal right and wrong? How about a creator? These might seem like different questions but they’re the same. There is a correct way for a created thing to behave. A toy car rolls forward when you crank the wheels back. It stops working when the wheels won’t crank. If you send the toy back to the manufacturer to have it fixed, you can expect they know what to do. If they said “We created it, but we have no idea how it’s supposed to work” You’d be confused.

Conclusion

Created things function a particular way because they were designed to. Humans were created with an inherent need to behave in a moral capacity. Sin puts up a wall between the Creator and the created, by introducing a ‘work around’. It says you don’t need God. It says you are God. It says there is no God, or creation or ultimate justice.

You can behave however you like. Solomon would call this “raving madness”. His description assumes a self-evident reality. We can understand how things work by observing creation. Foolishness comes in two varieties, socially acceptable or socially unacceptable. Neither is hopeless. Salvation is for all and redemption is for today.

Slowly then Suddenly: Maturity and Progress

 

How to Measure Growth: Yardsticks and Old Photos

A friend of mine gave me some Chicago Cubs memorabilia recently. 

His girlfriend is from Chicago and as such, was cleaning out her rental space and forgot about it. Fans of any time will recognize the bobble head souvenirs of their favorite players. There was a Jeff Samardzija bobble head, a Ryne Sandburg figurine and mini wooden bat with a list of the starting lineup from a particular year. Anthony Rizzo’s name is listed on first, as well as Junior Lake in the outfield. This bat had to be around 2012 or 2013. I might be a few years off. I don’t think Castillo was there in 2016 for the World Series win but his signature is also on there.

Temporary State of Mind

It was a nice gesture to offer me the items. I’ll probably keep them wrapped up for a while though. I feel like I’m at a transition point in life. I love my house but it’s a bit small and I’m not sure how long I’ll live here. The idea of selling my place for a much larger fee than what I paid is almost too much to ignore. I started painting 2 years ago. My 3^rd bedroom, which I used as smoke room, needed a lot of Kils paint to cut the smell down. Toward the end of its usefulness, I was using an attic fan to blow out the excess smoke. The smell wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, but still needed a full do over. During that year I started thinking about selling. The place needs more work of course but it was a start.

Mostly it’s a fleeting thought. I won’t move just to move. I need to have a place to go and a reason to leave, but the thought is always top of mind. Why? I guess you outgrow things sometimes. For those who made marks on the wall every year as a kid, the mark moved up occasionally. Or rather, you remade it whenever you got significantly taller. The height mark in inches on the wall was a realistic reminder of where you’d come from. You had nothing to do with the growth itself, only the mark. God grows us up after all. I don’t remember having a spot on the wall where I regularly checked my progress. The closest I came to that was the Buggs Bunny sign at Six Flags Great America in Gurnee, Illinois. He held a vertical ruler with the official height required to ride the roller coasters. Eventually you get to ride, everything before that was childhood.

Imminent Promotion Close By

There are other Knick knacks and memorabilia I’ve held on to since I bought the house. Part of me never wanted a shelf or display to show them off. That felt too permanent, as if I’d need to be ready to move again quickly if the need should arise. What would constitute a “need”? It was always ill-defined in my head, something important for sure though. Marriage, career and business opportunities all come to mind. Maybe it wasn’t realistic but the sense of imminent promotion clouded so many of my decisions. Not that I live out of a storage closet, but I’ve held off on turning this into as comfortable a home as possible. In recent years I’ve changed that trend a bit. A fair amount of the reluctance to organize the house is laziness too.

The painting, new flooring and electrical upgrades are all improvements I wouldn’t have done in the first couple of years. I can look at the few changes I’ve made the way a toddler looks as the mark on his bedroom wall. I’ve grown a little. Progress comes slowly for some of us and quickly for others. But it’s better to say that it’s slow for years and then, very fast. It’s like my favorite quote from Ernest Hemingway on how one goes bankrupt, “Two ways. gradually then suddenly”. Kids seem to grow tall (boys at least) right before junior high. In grade school they grow slowly. Before long they’re young men seeking a future and we all wonder where the time went. They were growing the whole time but we didn’t always notice.

Conclusion

I’m hoping my home is in a similar situation. I’ll occasionally catch older photos I took during my first few years. The detached garage was a real disaster before that one Memorial Day Weekend. I tore out a lot of rotten wood siding and replaced them with new planks. My Dad and brother helped me replace the roof with plywood and shingles the next year. I painted it shortly after that. The yard is less weedy and at least 2 of the trees are gone. It’s not exactly rapid progress, but I’ve added value.

There is more to do. I don’t know if I’ll ever sell it. Maybe I’ll turn it into a rental property and buy a condo. Wherever I end up though, my next home will have a space for the Chicago Cubs memorabilia. And possibly a vertical yardstick along one wall, so my kids can measure their progress.

 

The Covenant: A Review

 

Guy Ritchie's The Covenant Tells the Real Story of Duty and Reciprocity

The Covenant is straightforward. Two soldiers depending on each other to stay alive. One is wounded and near death, the other is in hiding from the Taliban. It’s easy to forget that this is a Guy Ritchie movie. The lack of stylistic violence and criminal syndicates was noticeably absent. His movies (I haven’t seen all of them) are known for fast sequences and colorful characters. Certainly, the warfare was intense but even Ritchie understands the seriousness inherent in combat. Slapstick violence would send the wrong message. 

It’s a lesson about survival and dependence but ends up being a sad commentary on America’s fickle commitment to her most susceptible allies. This is under the surface but still visible. 

Story Line

Sgt. John Kinley (Jake Gyllenhaal) runs a task force of American soldiers that looks for IED (Improvised Explosive Device) factories around Afghanistan. They operate on intelligence that’s a bit shaky most of the time. They rely heavily on interpreters whose loyalties are often in question. An early sequence in the movie shows how the crew lost its first interpreter. On a quest to replace him, Kinley meets Ahmed (Dar Salim) and quizzes him on why he wants the job. Ahmed isn’t trusted by a lot of other soldiers because he goes off script and takes big risks. Kinley takes a chance on him and despite a rough start, the crew starts to trust him. He saves their lives on one occasion by sniffing out an ambush.

It's clear that Ahmed needs visas for himself and his pregnant wife. His “traitorous” behavior in working for the Americans has made him a target for the Taliban. He was promised a visa at one time. It’s part of the deal with working with the Americans. He seems reluctant to trust anyone completely. This is examined in more detail.

Two Visions

The film is really two things. The first half is a traditional war film, a survival tale of escape and evasion. The second half is a war with the State Department’s bureaucracy and its impossibly large net. 

Kinley and his skilled group hit paydirt when they encounter a quarry that turns out to be an IED factory. They don’t realize how valuable the find at first. They call in air support and shoot up the place before the gunships arrive. But the Taliban managed to call backup of their own. In a matter of minutes the place is overrun with enemies, everyone but Kinley and Ahmed die in the gunfire. They make a desperate run for the open country and hide in caves, sleep in valleys and hustle to the nearest American air base. Kinley is wounded in the escape and nearly dies. Ahmed performs a superhuman feat by keeping him alive through rugged terrain with Taliban looking for them. He is both resourceful and determined to keep the soldier alive.

The second part of the movie is the frustrating effort by Sgt Kinley, now out of the Army, to get Ahmed and his family out. Ritchie uses similar emotional, imagery to emphasize the struggle faced by both men in attempting to complete their mission. For Kinley though it’s the agonizingly slow bureaucratic visa process that creates anxiety. Just like the stressful montages of Ahmed pushing a wooden cart up a mountain, are the images of a drunken Kinley threatening the State Department officials and generally losing his mind. Both men work for the other. One faces gunfire while the other an indifferent machine, designed to evade and confuse. Both men work within their unspoken covenant. But Ahmed’s race across the country was always with hopes of his visa promise, less so than his obligation to Kinley. Kinley’s obligation is to Ahmed because the man literally saved his life and risked his own on multiple occasions.

The Backstory (Spoilers)

Guy Ritchie keeps the focus on the two men and their respective missions. Both men’s wives and children are set pieces that the main characters interact with. We don’t see their concern as their husbands go missing or witness their emotional breakdowns. For a lot of films this would be a shortcoming, but deep character studies outside the main thread can interfere with the story. We know both men have families they care for. That’s enough for this movie.

I’m sure Ritchie intended for this to be a statement on unfulfilled obligations by the American government to the people who helped them in Afghanistan. I thought a clearer statement would be to have the family of Ahmed shot in front of him as the credits roll. It’s awful but probably more realistic. That’s what happened in the summer of 2021. We all remember those sad images of C130s lifting off as Afghans chased them down the runway hoping to escape the coming slaughter.

But I also remember stories of American citizens flying into the country to get people out. I attended a talk by a Force Recon Marine (Chad Robichaux) about his rescue efforts since leaving Afghanistan. Needless to say, there were a lot of organizations going back into a much more dangerous country and getting people out. A lot of them were interpreters, carelessly left behind. Private groups succeeded where the government failed. That’s usually the way it works. The ending of the film fits, because it’s a story about relationships and commitment to cause. I was sure this was a true story because so much of it rings true. It's not, but you'll understand why by the end. 

 

Justice Run 23

 

Savoring the Improvements: Justice Run 2

This past weekend I completed my second Justice Run in Forth Worth.

After a rough start and a grueling finish (is there another kind?), I came in at nearly the same time as before. The morning started at 5:00 am. I woke up my brother and he woke up two of his kids, Bella and Christian. The 4 of us, and my mom, headed for the Panther Pavilion in downtown Fort Worth along the banks of the Trinity River. The marathon runs along the path following the river. It’s a 13.1 mile loop that marathoners have to run twice. The city was still under a downpour with no let up in sight. We sat under the event center canopy and waited for 7:00 am.

The race had been pushed back from the original start of 6:00 am due to heavy rainfall.

A quick look around told me those of us running numbered less than 20. The marathon doesn’t usually get as many participants anyway, but the weather clearly had an effect on the participant’s decision to show up. My brother got an alert shortly after. The organizers were pushing it back 2 hours to 9:00 am. They must have also realized it would still be dark till at least 8:00. Normally not a huge deal but with driving rain and deep puddles it could be treacherous.

We decided to go find a coffee shop and get out of the rain. We found one just a few minutes from the pavilion that would host the run. This one was on a major city block corner with impressive floor to ceiling windows facing the whole of the city. We were able to watch the weather get worse, as the morning light tried to peek through the darkness. The sun never made an appearance but the darkness relented a bit. At this point I thought they might cancel. When we went back to the pavilion a much larger crowd was there waiting to run.

The event was on after all.

I was having second thoughts about running in this miserable weather. But with all the others lining up and checking their watches I fell in line and prepped like the rest. I borrowed a hooded sweatshirt from my mom, mostly to keep the rain off my head. I didn’t bring a hat, so I had to deal with wearing it for the first half of the run. Once they shouted “GO!”, we hustled through the first few hundred feet jockeying for position. The puddles appeared shortly after that. We tried to skirt the ankle-deep water by running through the grass along the side. But when the mud threatens to hold your shoes in place, it’s best to just trot through like a hefty Clydesdale on your way to the barn. I should’ve said “carefully” trot. I noticed a few runners slipping on the mud underneath the water covering the path and took cautious steps.

Once you step in the water a few times you accept it and splash on. Your shoes won’t dry, but neither will they be full of water the whole day. It gets a little easier after that. I checked in on my pace and heart rate like I normally do. Not that it matters all that much, but I’ve never been able to keep a 10 minute pace beyond the halfway point. It always jumps up to 11 and then 12. I could run harder and keep myself at 10 but my energy level won’t allow it so late in the run. During training this isn’t a problem. My heart rate too was up in the 160s during the race, which is high for me. I like to stay just below 150.

I’ll need to do some research to figure out why my heart was thumping so quickly. I wasn’t running faster but for some reason, it was working harder. I’ve googled around since the race to get a sense of how it might have happened. Coffee is likely the culprit. I always drink one cup before a run but because of the delayed start, I had two. It’s hard to reconcile one extra cup of coffee as being the deciding factor, so let’s call it a contributor.

 If it seems like I obsess about these minor inputs, it’s because it takes a lot of work to get here. I’m still in the ‘just happy to finish’ portion of my ability. But eventually I’d like to get faster and start breaking some personal records. Along the way I hope to weed out bad habits and learn how to best prepare. The sense I get from those who’ve run a lot more than me, is that training is highly personal. What works for a similar runner won’t necessarily work for me. It’s a puzzle, a problem to be solved. I enjoy it. Mostly I like to savor the improvements, no matter how small, and be encouraged by the progress.    

The rain eventually dropped off around the 10 mile mark. The drizzle continued for most of the race. The last 4 miles or so were almost too much. I knew I’d finish at a slow clip, limping and scooting along. My knee was begging me to stop and my legs felt like I had bags of ice melt wrapped around them. Having done this before, I knew to just grit my teeth and lean forward until I passed under the bright archway with the glorious word “Finish” across the top. The pain really is temporary, but the story lasts forever.

So I’ll keep going… and thank God for His strength in my weakness.