"Mister Know-It-All " OR "It's Time to Move!"

Last Father's Day, my wife and stepdaughters got me a really sweet Polar M400 running watch. I use it constantly when I run. In fact, one of my New Year's resolutions was to learn to use the interval function on it. That, and to write one new blog post a week. So far, so good.

It records distance. It remembers my favorite routes. It estimates calories burned. It shows current pace, average pace, and fasted pace for a run. And it keeps me accountable if I'm being lazy. 

If the watch senses it's been too long since I've moved (like if I'm Netflix-binging or something), a message flashes across its screen, proclaiming, "It's time to move!" 

Most of the time, my response is, "Don't judge me, watch." But then I'll usually get off my butt and go for a run, or do a workout video with Hillary, or go to the gym. 

Usually. 

Fast forward to this morning, at Trinity Hill United Methodist Church. As is often the case, I heard the verses at the beginning of the sermon, and readied myself to take some notes, draw some cartoons, but pretty much know what's coming because I've read the verses before. 

Note that, in previous entries about my New Year's Resolutions, I mentioned nothing about a resolution to grow closer to God. You've stumbled across the reason for this: my "already-read-it-so-God-has-nothing-left-to-teach-me-through-this-scripture" attitude. 

Pastor Steve's sermon started with this verse: "For the gate is small and the way is narrow that leads to eternal life, and there are few who find it." (Matt. 7:14). Of course, I tuned this right out; I've been saved since I was sixteen years old (and that's been, ahem, a long time ago). So I set to cartooning about the Broncos/Steelers playoff game today. 

I've had years to develop my skill at drawing while listening, and as pictures appeared in my notebook, I continued to absorb Pastor Steve's message: yes, the day of Salvation is today, but what about all the OTHER days? Christianity isn't about ONE day of salvation, and sitting on our butts for the rest. (I, of course, couldn't be guilty at all of this, because of all the time I'd dedicated to the youth program and all the mission trips and retreats I'd been on, so, once again, I tossed another scripture in the "heard it, mastered it" pile.) 

God clearly knew that my head was a many-layered thing, like an artichoke, that needed to be repeatedly peeled before the heart was exposed. So he hit me with another scripture, and this one got my attention. 

"Through these* He has given his very great and precious promises, so that through them you MAY participate in the divine nature and escape the corruption in the world caused by evil desires." (2 Peter 2:4) 

*These, which Paul mentioned in previous verses, refer's to God's power, giving us life and the ability to live Godly lives. But that's not the part that Pastor Steve focused on, much to my benefit. He focused on the use of the word MAY; moreover, that Paul doesn't say WILL, or another word that implies a guarantee. It's a conditional word. 

God knew what he was doing, because this caused me to set down my pen. And, while he had my attention, he hit me with a haymaker, in the form of another scripture which I'd thought I'd already learned. 

"For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being INEFFECTIVE and UNPRODUCTIVE in your knowledge of Jesus Christ" (2 Peter 2:8) 

I hadn't been sitting long enough for it to kick in yet, but at that moment I wish God would have made my watch flash the "It's time to move!" screen. 

Because I hadn't been moving spiritually in long time.  

If Christianity is really a race, as Paul describes it, then I'd stopped at one of the mile-markers and decided to feel proud of myself for making it that far. I could look at at my watch, admire what I'd done and how far I'd come, and kick my feet up. After all, how many people hadn't made it that far? How many people hadn't even laced up their shoes that morning? I was beating all of those folks! 

But God reminded me, as he usually does, that following Him is not a spectator sport. It's not a race you run for a while, and then admire your pretty medal or personalized race bib for the rest of your life. Like running, like anything worth doing, it takes time and energy and practice and grueling dedication. 

But it's the only life truly worth that kind of dedication. 

Part of me only really learned about God the Father after I became a father, and I find myself drawing parallels between my relationship with the girls and God's relation with me (only on a Divine, cosmic proportion). I would be a pretty crappy parent if I did everything for Faith and Zoe and never asked them to lift a finger. Never asked them to educate themselves, to give their best.

And God calls me to do the very same. He calls me to educate myself in Him by scripture reading, following devotions, discussing verses and themes with fellow believers, to not be afraid to take all my prayers directly to God. He calls me to give my best, by devoting my time/energy/finances/prayers/presence to my church, showing love to particularly irksome students, and staying in such close contact with Him that His will is never unknown to me.

But lately all I've been giving him is my laziness, my complacency, and worst of all, my know-it-all attitude. 

So, it's time for Mr. Know-It-All to get off his butt and move. My spiritual butt, that it, and to move spiritually. I've been sitting at this mile marker long enough, and I've got a lot more running to do. 

A Common Thread - OR - How Running Saved My Life

After a hiatus of not blogging about running on my running-themed blog, I'm finally back at it today. Give me a break; it's been a hectic summer!

Earlier this month, I was contacted by someone from Fanatics.com. If you've never checked them out, they're pretty much the unparalleled word in sports gear. A representative from the site mentioned that they'd heard of my blog, and wanted to know if my life (or the life of my family) had been significantly impacted by sports.

Oh, has it.

If you're a faithful follower of this blog, then you know that Hillary Smith and I were married two weeks ago.

Just by sheer volume of pictures, it may be the most documented wedding in history. 

What you may not be aware of is the role that running played in our lives individually and as a couple, and how we overcome great personal struggles by lacing up our shoes and hitting the road. 

I was married for the first time in 2010. My now ex-wife moved out of our house at the end of May, 2012. The months that followed were, without a doubt, the darkest of my life. You might remember a post from earlier this month in which I recapped that season, describing the pattern of self-loathing, depression, and destructive habits I picked up during that time.

I wasn't constantly looking for answers at the bottom of a bottle, though. I was still running. 

I had been a runner for years before that fateful time, so I was already pretty serious about the sport. But when my wife moved out, running became something more than an excuse to get out of the house and a reason to eat far more calories than I needed. Running became a form of therapy for me, the only way I could express the confusion and frustration and anger in a way that was healthy. Later in 2012, I ran my first marathon and completed my first Tough Mudder, two things I never thought I'd be able to do. 

I had just emerged from something called 'The Arctic Enema', if the blue lips didn't tip it off. 

Rock and Roll Las Vegas Marathon. I look way more enthusiastic in this picture. 

Running, probably literally, saved my life. 

Fast forward almost a year. An amazing girl that I had barely known in high school was going through her own personal version of hell. She, like me, was recently divorced, but after a decade of marriage instead of less than three years. 

I'm still not sure why I messaged her that day in April of 2013. But I'm lucky I did. She and I, it turned out, each needed a listening ear for the struggles our lives had thrown at us. And, coincidently, she was preparing for a 5K race the very next day. 

Hillary had barely run before her divorce. But she, like me, had chosen to pick up the sport as a way to wear away the edges of rage and sorrow that her life had recently gained. At the very least, the activity made us feel good about ourselves; something neither of us had felt in a long time. 

We spent more time together. We started dating. And our best, most involved dates were races we ran together. 

Run the Bluegrass Half Marathon: Lexington, KY, March 2014 

Shamrock Shuffle 3K: Lexington, KY, March 2014 

Kentucky Derby Festival Mini-Marathon: Louisville, KY, April 2014 

When I decided to ask her to marry me, it only seemed fitting to ask her in our favorite running shop. I made sure it was okay with the people at John's Run/Walk Shop, and they were thrilled at the idea. One of their awesome employees was even nice enough to video it for it. It can be seen on their Facebook Page. 

We were finally married two weeks ago. The post before this one is dedicated to it, so check it out if you'd like.

Sometimes when I think about my life before the divorce, I feel as if I'm looking at a different person. He had no idea just how wrecked his life could get until it happened before his eyes. However, if I share anything with that past version of myself, it's my love of running. For a while, that thread was more like a lifeline; and, luckily, I met someone else who was on that lifeline, too. Now, it's a common thread that unites us and keeps us motivated, strong, and, most importantly, invested in each other's lives.

Oh, and I've already turned her into a Denver Broncos fan. As if I could possibly love her any more!

I'll have her in one of these this season. Just you wait.