Posted in Through the Bible Devotions

Let him set the pace

Some “through the Bible” thoughts from Isaiah 52.

You shall not go out in haste,
    and you shall not go in flight,
for the Lord will go before you,
    and the God of Israel will be your rear guard. (Isaiah 52:12)

In context, as God promises to redeem, restore, and return his people from exile, the journey will be different from the Egyptian exodus. There’s no hurry. You’re not running for your lives. God goes ahead of you and God’s got your back. There’s no need to rush when you’re surrounded by God.

I paused at those words because it’s hard to slow down. We rush through life, impatiently waiting for microwaves, traffic lights, package delivery, return on investments, food at a restaurant, someone to finish up in the bathroom, pain medication to kick in, popcorn at the movie theater, and the dog who must stop at every mailbox post.

I believe one characteristic of a mature faith is letting God set the pace. That could mean waiting to see what he’ll do. It might mean obeying a clear instruction without delay. Don’t get out ahead of God. Don’t lag behind either.

What’s that look like? Well, for one thing God is “slow to anger” (Exodus 34:6). At the empty tomb, the angel told the women, “Go quickly and tell his disciples that [Jesus] has risen from the dead” (Matthew 28:7). Jesus said, “I am coming soon” (Revelation 22:20). But one fruit of the Spirit is patience (Galatians 5:22).

Once the Israelites got out of Egypt, God set the pace, leading them with a pillar of cloud during the day and a pillar of fire at night. When he moved, they moved. When he was still, they set up camp and stayed put.

i guess you just have to pay attention. Where do you see God at work? In what situations does he seem to be taking his good old sweet time?

When you are walking or running or biking with someone, it’s proper to let the slower set the pace. That way you always stay together. That’s good advice for followers of Jesus, too.

Posted in fitness, Life

Fun Ways to Enjoy Exercise: My Journey

Photo by Victor Freitas on Unsplash
Daily writing prompt
What’s the most fun way to exercise?

I’ve done a lot of different exercising over the past fifty years. I played informal sports in my neighborhood growing up and some intramural sports in college. I didn’t truly get into fitness until my final year of college, when I decided to start running.

Some hate to run. I loved it. I liked competing with myself, to run farther or faster each time. The self-competiton made it fun. Along with the music that ran through my head in time with my footsteps. I never listened to music while I ran. My creative brain sprang to life about a mile into those long distance runs.

When I supplemented my running with weightlifting, I again loved the competitive nature of exercising. I carefully journaled everything, always pursuing another rep or a few more pounds.

I still find exercise fun. My feet hurt so I don’t do much running. I do a lot of walking with the dogs and a lot of bodyweight exercise routines in the garage. Every exercise is a variation of the basic movements of pulling, pushing, squatting, and standing. I love learning new movements from fitness professionals who produce exercise videos.

For me, the moving, breathing, pacing, and exertion are fun. It’s me against me, or the elements, or the two dogs on a leash. From the dog-smiles on their faces, I know they’re having fun, too.

Posted in running, seasons

It has to be summer

Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite season of year? Why?

When I used to run a lot, it felt so good to simply pull on shorts, socks, and shoes and hit the road on a summer day. Within half a mile, I had my rhythm, a little sweat covered my body, and my muscles felt nice and loose.

In the summer, you don’t have to worry about hats, gloves, or layers of clothing. The days are long, so it’s light out for an early morning run. I can feel the slightest breeze on all my exposed skin. I chuckle as random passersby comment, “It’s too hot to run!”

I really like summer. I like the heat and the humidity. Even though I use lots of sunblock now, I love to feel the sun’s heat on my skin. I love the feeling of sweat cooling my body. I appreciate the longer hours of daylight, love the early sunrise, and look forward to a late sunset.

Summer meant no school. Although, I kind of enjoyed school. Summer meant baseball, and a job at a major league stadium. Summer meant cutting the lawn weekly, a pleasant chore for me. Summer meant tomatoes and sweet corn from south Jersey, the Mr. Softie ice cream truck, Monday night 5K races at Lake Takanassee (NJ), my July birthday, and Vacation Bible School.

Now, summer means hurricane season in Florida. Summer means sporadic, hard-to-predict thundershowers. Summer is the season between the spring and fall gardening seasons in Florida. Summer means “I hope you had your AC serviced recently.” Summer means wear a hat, bring sunblock, and rent a cabin in North Carolina for a few weeks,

Summer is my favorite season of the year. Just about everyone else I know thinks I’m a little unbalanced to think so. You may be right. I might be crazy.

Posted in running

Victory! 5K run with the granddaughters

An ocean of people stretched out for a hundred yards in front of us and even further behind us. In just a few minutes we would hear the starting gun for the Synovus 5K for charity run. My wife and I were walking/running this shorter race with three of our granddaughters, while their parents ran the longer Gate River Run 15K in Jacksonville, Florida. I pushed a stroller with the oldest of the girls (age 5), while my wife had a double stroller containing the younger sisters (ages 3 and almost 1). The downtown street was thick with 1,600 runners, so it took us over a minute to move through the starting gate. Even before we did, my granddaughter was urging me, “We’re going to have to go faster, Grandpa!”

We were able to walk at a brisk pace for the first mile or so. We passed one runner dressed up like a giant chicken, another couple dressed as Mario and Luigi, and a few firefighters in full gear. Before long, the participants were spaced out enough that we could run for hundred yard stretches, weaving in and out of walkers and slower runners.

Not too far into the first mile, at 9:00 am, we counted the nine bells of an old church carillon. At the halfway point, we drifted over to the right to grab a cup at the water station. I took a sip of the lukewarm liquid and handed the cup to my granddaughter. I asked, “How’s the water?”

“It’s delicious!”

Once we got to the two mile mark, my granddaughter saw some police car lights keeping traffic at bay and wondered out loud, “Is that the finish line?”

I explained, “No, we can’t see it yet. I’ll let you know when we’re we getting close.” We had that same conversation three times in the next half-mile.

For most of the race, my wife was a few yards ahead of us. This was a concern. “Grandpa, we need to go faster. LeeLee (her name for my wife) is going to smoke us!”

Finally, as we turned onto a slight downhill stretch, I could see the finish line ahead of us. I said, “There it is!” I ran the last quarter mile into the fairgrounds, and said, “Put your hands up in the air!” She did and proclaimed our victory (over LeeLee) as we crossed the finish line with a time of 43:11. My wife with her two riders finished just behind us. We didn’t get smoked after all.

I’ve run lots of 5Ks, along with an assortment of 10Ks, five mile runs, and a few marathons. But I’ve never finished a road race pushing a stroller.

Posted in Travel

Plenty of time, right?

Photo by Hanson Lu on Unsplash

“We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Our flight wasn’t scheduled to leave for two hours. As soon as we stepped out of our car in long term parking, the shuttle was there to pick us up. No one else was in line to tag our checked bags. We waltzed through security. The people mover was waiting for us. Before we knew it, we were at our gate long before boarding began.

“Let’s get something to eat.” We walked right up to the counter and ordered breakfast. There were plenty of places to sit and watch the planes arriving and departing. I glanced at phone. Departure is on time. “We can sit in the comfy seats while we finish our coffee.” We passed the time by watching people, checking email, and enjoying a little leg room before a few hours in coach.

No sooner had I said, “Let’s head down towards the gate,” when we heard our names (pronounced correctly) on the PA system. Not only was our flight boarding, but this was a final boarding call. What? For the first time ever, we were the ones running through the airport to get to our gate. And run we did, afraid we wouldn’t make it before they closed the door.

But we did. Last people on the plane. No problem. We often like to be the last people on the plane, standing as much as we can before sitting for a long time.

As long as we’re on the plane!

Posted in Life, running

Going out for a Thanksgiving run

My wife, younger daughter and I decided to run a 5k race this morning. It’s the first race I’ve run in I know don’t how long. I looked through some old journals, but haven’t been able to pinpoint the last time I ran a road race.

I signed us all up online last week and paid our entry fee. While five-mile races cost an average of $5 in the 1980s, I had to cough up $35 each for this race. Of course, you get a t-shirt (this year’s was bright orange!), a medal, electronic timing, and some of the proceeds supported a local food bank, so I guess that’s not so bad.

The fairly mild fall Florida weather suddenly turned cooler last night, and I woke to a fifty degree morning. Now I have to decide what to wear. It’ll be cool while waiting for the start, but I’ll generate plenty of heat once the race starts. Shorts for sure. My rule of thumb was always a t-shirt down to fifty, and a long sleeve t-shirt if it was colder than that. I never wear anything on my legs unless the temps dip below freezing. It’s been a while since I ran, so I opted for a long sleeve t-shirt with a light short t sleeve on top. Once we got going, a t-shirt would have been enough, but this worked.

We arrived about twenty five minutes before the start time. Many runners were already there. And they were dressed in everything imaginable. The male high school cross country runners were in shorts with no shirt. The season had just ended and they were in top shape. Quite a few runners and walkers were in tights, shirts, coats, vests, hats, and gloves. I saw lots of turkey hats. One woman had her head poked through a large cardboard thanksgiving dinner table, set with plates, silverware and fake food. I saw a few runners wearing tutus, too.

When we noticed the crowd drifting towards the starting line, we followed. Suddenly, a siren sounded and we were on our way. Everyone had to funnel through a ten-foot wide inflatable starting gate, so we didn’t really begin running for about ninety seconds.

We settled into a comfortable thirteen-minute-per-mile pace as the sun appeared above the tree line. It turned out to be a nice day for a run. The course took us through live oak canopied streets, sidewalks, and trails along the intracoastal waterway and then back towards the starting area. Cups of water were available at the halfway point. I always take advantage of the water, even though it was only a three mile run. The course was well marked, and lots of sheriffs deputies were out to control traffic and keep an eye on the runners.

We only took a couple of short walking breaks. We passed many walkers who had started toward the front of the pack. We were passed by many serious runners who had gotten stuck in the crowd behind us. It always takes about a mile for the crowd to thin out and you find yourself among those running your pace.

Without any split designations, I could only guess how far we had run. Suddenly (at least for me), we rounded a corner and there was the finish line. We all finished together in the vicinity of forty minutes. Race results were online by the time we got home, letting us know we had all finished in the top half of all who came out today. The overall winner was a young man who finished in just under fifteen minutes. I believe he was one of the local high school cross country runners. The last person crossed the finish line just under the one hour mark.

This was my wife’s first official race. My daughter had run a few before. And I ran a lot of road races in my twenties. When you run with a crowd, you often do better than you would alone. Once you’ve finished, you start thinking about your next one, training more, and running faster next time. And of course, no matter how hard or easy the race was, it gives you an excuse to eat whatever you want for Thanksgiving!

Posted in Stories

I’m going for another run.

Lots of folks enjoyed reading a previous post “I’m going for a run,” so here’s a little more of the story.

By the end of 1981, I had only been running for about two years. The Jersey shore running community really encouraged and inspired me. But I got a job offer in Austin, TX, and headed south.

The duplex I rented was just uphill from the Colorado River on the south side of Austin, which was lined with running trails on both sides. Each night after work, I would take my yellow Labrador Retriever, Gabriel, out for a run. After being inside all day while I was at work, he was more than happy to join me for up to eight miles runs along the river. Once we got off the sidewalks, I would let him off the leash, and he would run up the path ahead of me and then back, so his runs were probably a couple of miles longer than mine. He would also jump in and out of the water, so the summer heat was never a problem for him. And he would intercept any frisbees being thrown at the park, leaving a tooth mark on more than a few. The toughest part of the run was the final half-mile home, a steep uphill to the house. But we always made it.

I left Gabriel at my dad’s house in Philadelphia when I moved to Ft. Wayne, Indiana and began my seminary studies. I still got out and ran thirty or forty miles a week, but only ever ran one real race there. It was the Run Preacher Run 5k around the campus. There were six entries, and I won. The course was short, because I finished in a little over 16 minutes, and there’s no way I was in that kind of shape. But I won my one and only running trophy!

It was a little harder to run in Baltimore during my vicarage year. We lived in an all Black neighborhood in the inner city, and I usually didn’t go anywhere without wearing my clerical collar. But early in the mornings, hardly anyone was up and around. So Gabriel, who was back with us, and I would go up to a park that had some nice running paths. These paths circled around baseball fields. We would be just trotting along when Gabriel would suddenly veer off the path and into the tall weeds, pulling out a baseball, which he carried all the way back home.

The first church I was called to was in Coventry, Connecticut, out in the eastern hills. There I ran up and down lots and lots and lots of hills. Since there weren’t any sidewalks, I didn’t take any dogs out with me. They got plenty of exercise running around the church’s eight acres were we lived and nearby fields and horse farms.

We next lived in West Des Moines, Iowa, and there were a few hills there, too. A lot of my runs would take me up the mile long hill of Grand Avenue towards Des Moines or downhill through Valley Junction. We lived across the street from the old Valley High School stadium, and I would hop the fence to run intervals on the track.

Then we moved to the northeast coast of Florida, where it is flat. The only hills are the bridges over the intracoastal waterway. When we arrived, there were no sidewalks and just a few stoplights in Palm Coast. I did some running with Michael and Blondie, successor labs to Gabriel and Rachel. But I did much more running with Samson, a shepherd lab mix who had limitless energy. About ten years into our life in Florida, my Morton’s neuralgia in each foot began to limit my running to no more than three or four miles a couple of times a week. My hips and knees held up over forty years of running, but my feet starting pleading for mercy. I can do OK with a very cushioned neutral shoe like Hoka One One. But most of my exercise now is non-impact, another story for another day.

Posted in Stories

I’m going for a run

I started running in the fall of 1978. I was a junior at Franklin & Marshall College in Lancaster, PA. Jim Fixx had just published The Complete Book of Running and it seemed like everyone was jogging. So I started jogging, too.

A complete loop around campus was 1-1/2 miles. So I jogged 1-1/2 miles. My running shoes, dark blue Pumas were heavy and not really designed for running, but that’s what I had. It’s a distant memory, but I am sure I didn’t completely run the whole loop without a few walking breaks. But it was the most running I had ever done in one stretch.

That summer I ran a few out and back courses around Ridley Park. I also stumbled upon a copy of Runner’s World at the library. It was filled with articles about how to get started, how to train, and what kind of shoes you should be running in. There were’t a whole lot to choose from, but I bought my first pair of Nike running shoes before classes started in the fall. They were feather light and so much nicer to run in.

Through that fall, I began going out for a run more regularly, branching out on other loops that once around the campus. I had enough credits after the fall semester to graduate, and got my first job in West Long Branch, NJ early in 1979.

By that time, the running boom was in full swing, especially at the Jersey Shore. Five miles was the standard distance for a road race back then, and there was a race in a different beach town every Saturday and Sunday.

My goal was to run one of those five mile races. In my mind, to finish a race like that, I needed to be able to run five miles every day for a week. When begin running consistently five, six or even seven days a week, I rapidly improved. I carefully logged all my runs and within a few months, I had a thirty-five mile week.

I entered a five mile race in Belmar, NJ early in the summer. I had absolutely no idea what to expect. I had never even seen a road race before and didn’t know anyone who had run one. But I sent in my $5 registration fee and wrote the race in on my calendar. I did know from my reading that you didn’t want to go out too fast. After all, you had to keep going for five miles!

I finished that first race in about 37 minutes, about halfway back in the pack. Not too bad for a first time out. I got a t-shirt, too, the first of many. The winner of the race finished in about 25 minutes. I doubted I’d ever be up front, but I could certainly improve.

I ran a couple of races a month that summer, in towns like Ocean Grove, Asbury Park, Monmouth, Red Bank and Spring Lake. Entry fees were cheap and I got a t-shirt each and every time. I learned how to run different distances, take a day off each week, and found a nearby high school track where I could work on speed by doing 200 or 400 yard intervals.

And I got another pair of running shoes. New Balance because they were the only maker with wider widths and I had fat feet. They had much better cushioning and I could run much further much more often with them.

By the fall, I had my five mile race time down to 32:30, about a 6:30 pace. I ran a 10k in a little over 40 minutes that fall, my first attempt at a longer race.

When it got colder, I adapted my wardrobe. Remember, this is 1979, and few stores sold winter running gear. I word a long sleeve turtle neck when the temperatures got below 50, and added a hat and gloves in the 40’s. The gloves I wore were painter’s gloves from the hardware store. They were warm enough but not bulky. Temps in the 30’s? That when I added a pair of navy long underwear under my running shorts. I generated plenty of heat while running, so I had to make sure I didn’t wear too much if it was above freezing.

With an increase in training, up to fifty or sixty miles a week, I took on the Ocean City half marathon. Most of that run was on the boardwalk, and I finished in decent time, somewhere around an hour and a half. I felt pretty confident going into 1980, and decided that I should train to run a marathon.

I found a marathon in Virginia Beach, VA in March of 1980, and set my sights on training for that race. I figured I needed to run seventy to eighty miles a week to be ready. I got my mileage up pretty well, but didn’t do any really long runs. I drove down to Virginia the night before, spent the night in a hotel, and ran the next morning. My time was 3 hours 24 minutes. Not too bad for the first time out But I knew I could do better.

I ran a lot of five mile races that summer and collected a lot of t-shirts. I would ride my bike about ten miles to work, run a few miles or do some track work at lunch time, and then run again when I got home at night. When you’re in your twenties, you can really push the envelope. I began to run the 5K races at Lake Takanassee in Long Branch. Four laps around a lake that attracted a lot of really good runners. By the end of that summer, I was running my five mile races close to 31 minutes. Never a front runner, but better and better all the time.

I set my sights on the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington, DC in November. It was a flat course, past all the major monuments. I was pretty sure I could break three hours, a sub seven minute pace for the 26.2 miles. I stayed in a hotel in Arlington, just across the Potomac River. I don’t remember too much about that race, except for the last half mile. The final stretch was uphill to the finish line at the Iwo Jima Memorial. My race certificate put me just over three hours.

I would do a lot of running before my next marathon, the Philadelphia marathon on the Saturday after Thanksgiving in 1981. I really upped my mileage, logging quite a few 80 and 90 mile weeks. I had my best race weekend the summer before that marathon. I ran a 30:00 five mile race on a Saturday, a 36:00 at the Asbury Park 10k on Sunday and then I broke 18 minutes at Lake Takanassee. I felt strong and ran a 1:23 half marathon in the fall at Ocean City. I really felt like I had a chance to break 2:50 for a marathon and qualify for the Boston Marathon.

I was ready that race weekend. I had run a few twenty mile workouts at a six minute pace. I had raced, I had tapered and I was confident. My dad drove me outside of the city to the starting line, and would meet me at the finish in center city, Philadelphia. It was a cool clear day, and I made it to Germantown, the ten mile point in 65 minutes. From there it was mostly downhill. I reached the twenty mile point at 2:10. all I had to do was run that last 10k in 40 minutes. That’s when I hit the wall. Those last six miles were a bear. I crossed the finish line in 2:54, four minutes too slow for Boston in my age group. That would be my last real race. A lot would change after that weekend.

Posted in Lent devotions

The naked guy

“Scenes from the passion” Lent devotion for Friday, March 12, 2021.

And a young man followed him, with nothing but a linen cloth about his body. And they seized him, but he left the linen cloth and ran away naked. (Mark 14:51-52)

I have always loved this unusual scene from the passion. It seems like a totally random cameo in the gospel of Mark. I know who streaked across the stage at my high school’s spring chorus concert, but we don’t know anything about this young man. Everyone else had a reason to be at Gethsemane that night. Everyone but this guy.

Unless, it was Mark.

Continue reading “The naked guy”