"Laziness" *OR* "Old Wineskins"

Beleive it or not, this blog started out as a place for me to chronical my running. Actually, it started as a place for me to post reviews of energy products marketed to runners. Circa 2012, about the time my first marriage was crumbling, I needed something to direct my energies toward so I wouldn't go insane. It was at this time that I started training for my first marathon.

Marathon training is hard, ya'll. And the sad part is, I didn't even know how to train. I figured that, if I just made myself run longer and longer distances, I'd eventually get into "marathon shape", which I didn't even pin a solid definition to other than, 'The ablility to finish a marathon without dying'. 

In case we've never met, I (like most men, I think) have a bad habit of thinking I'm an expert on anything I have at least a passable knowledge about. If I can swing a wrapping paper tube around in what I think looks like a component impression of a sword, I'm instantly an Olympic-caliber fencer. And running was something, at that time, I thought I had down to a science. So clearly I needed no special research on how to run a marathon. 

What commenced was the most misersable 5 hours, 13 minutes, and 39 seconds of my life.

I was in much more misery than my expression implies. Also, I had a lot more hair. 

Fast forward more than a year. Undaunted, I signed up for my second marathon. Clearly, when I had trained for the first marathon, I had simply not used my "non-training" routine intensely enough! So I continued with the same actions, in the same way I had used them before (admittedly with more frequency) and expected a different outcome. I didn't once bother to consider that the correct approach to marathoning wasn't in the ammount I trained, but in the methods I was using. 

My second marathon, I ran in 5 hours and 12 minutes. My "more intensive training" had shaved a whopping 1 minute and 39 seconds from my time. 

That simply would not do! After all, I had developed a goal to one day qualify for the Boston Marathon. Clearly, something about my training would have to change. But, like the proverbial fly that beats its head against a window until it smashes its brains to jell-o, I continued my old training plan of "run more". 

The following year, I managed to shave 20 minutes off my marathon time, when I finished the same marathon in 4'52". 

While I was very proud of that time, I still had a big problem. In order to qualify for the Boston Marathon in my age group (the 34-39 age group), I would have to finish a Boston qualifying marathon in 3 hours and 5 minutes. Which meant that I still, somehow, needed to shave more than an hour and forty-five minutes from my marathon time. 

Which seems impossible. At least, it seemed impossible with the way I was training. 

Humans are creatures of habit. I get that. We're animals that hate change, and resist it with everything in us. Psychologists have written long articles about why this is, but I think the short answer is because changing a behavior is difficult and takes effort, and none of us want to beleive that we are flawed enough that our methods actually need changing. We want to beleive that we're experts and have the best way to do things already mastered. 

Simply put, we are a lazy species. Me, chiefly among them. 

This revelation about myself was a long time coming when it came to running, but I'm glad to say that it's application to other areas of my life was much more forthcoming. When my first marriage fell apart, I pretty quickly saw that I wasn't, contrary to my own beleif, an expert when it came to relationships. Though she and I had been in a relationship for five years, I actually had NO IDEA what entailed in being a husband. I may have understood the role of "boyfriend", but the role of "husband" completely escaped me. 

Withing the last few years, I stepped in a new role, one that another version of Graham would have assumed he was already a master of withouth even the slighest experience: the role of Dad. Thankfully, Old Graham was long gone, and new, willing-to-admit-that-he-doesn't-have-it-all-together Graham was willing to learn. I had to rethink the ways I used my energy, my time, and my finances. Suddenly, my life was no longer about me and the things I wanted. And I'll admit, it was very difficult to break out of those selfish mindsets.

But, even though it was difficult, it was GOOD.  

And that's perhaps the trap that we, as people, find ourself in when it comes to change. We assume that because it's difficult, or requires a lot of time or energy, that it can't be GOOD. But that often is the exact opposite, in the examples we read in Scripture: God doesn't do extreme GOOD in the lives of people who aren't willing to do something DIFFICULT. 

I'm running my 5th marathon this fall (I won't even go into the time of my 4th marathon, because there were other extenuating circumstances which made that time esepecially terrible). But this time, I'm following a training plan. I've been a subscriber of Runner's World magazine for many years, and I figured it was time I started taking the advice of experts as seriously as I took the advice of the little voices in my head that told me I already knew everything. 

The training plan is hard. I ran over 16 miles on Sunday. My feet hurt so badly that even standing to sing hymns in church was a task. But just because the run was HARD doesn't mean it wasn't GOOD. Because it was very good. 

The more I think about this analogy, the more I realize how it applies to so many different areas of my life. Which is good, because it means I am always learning and never accepting that I've "arrived" in any facet of my life. But it also stinks, because the lazy part of me that resists change desperatly wants to climb into the metaphorical bed inside my mind and pull the covers over its head. 

I'm about to enter my 10th year teaching, and some of my methods and activities have become stagnant with time. It's time to rethink many of them. 

My Bible study and prayer life are slipping. It's probably time I looked for a new approach to studying the Word, and changed the way I pray or the things I pray about. 

It's easy to dilude yourself into believing that just because you've done something for a long time you should be considered an 'expert' (or, in my case, the beleif that mere passable knowledge in a topic makes you an expert). It's a different thing entirely, and a much better thing, to accept that maybe the old methods you've cemented in your head need reconsidered. I firmly believe that laziness is part of the human condition, and that sloth is one of the seven deadly sins for a reason. 

There's no rest for the weary, it seems. But that's not a bad thing. I've got a classroom that hasn't been touched since May, a former guest bedroom that's halfway through a transition into a nursery, and six weeks left in a marathon training plan that will hopefully get me one step closer to qualifying for Boston. It's only appropriate that my thoughts about these things change with them. After all, wasn't it Jesus who said we can't put new wine into old wineskins?  

"Training Plans", OR "Outside the Zone"

It's been an eventful few weeks.

Elliot Katherine's nursery is coming along well!  Me and Hillary have rearranged lots of pieces of furniture, trying to keep half the room as a functional guest room while still adhering to the black-and-white monochrome color scheme we decided on. The guest bed has new bedding, I've painted nightstands and bookcases black ("Black Magic", as the can called it), and we've purchased a few new items of furniture to accent the room.

Chiefly among them:  Ellie Kate's crib!

Even though she's got a place to sleep if she showed up tomorrow, there's still a lot to do. Like put the rocker together. 

I'm going to put it together soon. Really. 

So Hillary and I are working to get the majority of the work done before school starts. By that time, it will be less than three months before she's due, and with me and the girls going back to school life is only going to get more hectic. 

In my last post, I wrote about the Hatfield/McCoy Half Marathon I ran in eastern Kentucky, and what an amazing race it was. And, with the completion of that race, how I had no more races until fall. The next race on my calendar isn't until September 17th: The Air Force Marathon in Dayton, Ohio. 

This is a point of anxiety for me. The last full marathon I ran was pretty awful; my time was terrible, I felt worse, physically, after the race than any other race since I started running, and my recovery took forever. With the memory of that abysmal race hanging over my head, I resolved to do something for the Air Force Marathon that I've never done before. 

I'm going to follow a training plan. 

Now, don't get me wrong. I've not done races in the past without training. But keep in mind: though I spend a lot of time on the road, I am a total novice when it comes to knowing how to train. So when I say I've "trained" for previous races, I mean I ran in the months beforehand, when running was convenient, and when running wasn't convenient I used a stationary bike or something else to help me stay active. In fact, if I was to nail a description to my old 'training plan', I'd have to call it the, "Just do whatever I want and hope it makes me faster" method. 

But, with as bad as I felt after the last race, I decided it was time to seek help from the pros. So I've started following a training plan from the people at Runner's World, who know thing or two about becoming a better runner. 

This isn't the first time I've thought about following a training plan, but it's definitely the first time I've actually followed up on it. Until now, I'd always told myself that I ran simply for the joy of running... for the happiness I get out of lacing up my shoes in the wee hours of the morning and hitting the pavement before the world wakes up. I always swore that I'd NEVER be one of "those people" who did meter-sprints, followed strict regiments, and was forced to press buttons on their GPS watch constantly while running to do numerical analysis of running data. 

But then I ran for a few years. And few more years. And a few MORE years. And I wasn't becoming a better runner. In fact, I was downright stagnant. 

There comes a point in all things, be it a job or a relationship or a skill or whatever, when staying in the same place isn't satisfying anymore. There comes a point when, if you're not going forward, you're going backward. 

Even though I didn't want to admit it, it was time to follow a training plan from people who know more about this stuff than I do. And the first part was admitting that there was a lot I didn't know. THAT might have been the most difficult part. 

So it was time for a change. And the first thing that had to change was my hair. 

Your gross thought of the day: running in the summer with a ponytail. It fills up with sweat, and then slaps on the back of your neck like a dead fish as you run. Nasty. 

Pictured: hair that is much easier to run with. 

Don't worry; this wasn't some existential crisis, or a desperate cry for help! I've actually been toying with the idea of cutting my hair for years, and have gotten really serious about it these last few months. I actually wanted to do it before the Hatfield/McCoy half, but wasn't able to make it to a barber. With having long hair for more than a decade, it was time for a change. And Hillary likes it, which is a major plus. :) 

So, I'm two weeks into my training plan, and it's already putting me outside my comfort zone. Last Sunday I had to run 10 miles, according to the plan. But Hillary and I went to a late showing of 'Independence Day: Resurgence', and I didn't fall asleep until 1:30 in the morning. I would have to get up before 6:00, run the whole distance, and get home in time to help wrangle the kids into suitable shape to make it to church at 10:30, which is a half hour drive. 

I wanted to make excuses. I wanted to sleep in. I wanted to do it MY way. 

But I also wanted to get better. And I wanted THAT more than those other things. So I ran 10 miles before church, and took a really great nap that afternoon. 

In the training plan, the middle of the week is peppered with short runs, some of which are instructed to be on "hilly" courses (good luck finding a course in central Kentucky that's NOT hilly). But Sundays are "long run" days. After last week's 10-miler, I would have been happy to log another like it. 

But the training plan wouldn't let me. This Sunday's long run was 12 miles. 

So, here's what I'm realizing. Stagnation is no fun. Even if you're sitting at a place that used to be a place of comfort, of safety, you can't simply keep doing the same thing over and over again and expect things to get better. You've got to wake up earlier, run a little longer, push a little harder, give a little more effort. And then, next time, give a little more. And the time after that, a little more. 

Waking up at 5:15 on a Sunday in summer to run 12 miles in the rain SUCKS AND I HATE IT. 

But you know what I hate even more? The idea of never getting any better. 

So I did it. 

And earlier in the week I saw this baby raccoon hanging out by Woodford County Middle School while doing a "hilly" run. He's not relevant to the story. I just thought he was awesome.

If you're a consistent reader of this blog, you might recognize this as the portion where I bring the entry full circle. It's time to connect that revelation about my running to other portions of my life; specifically, that not-yet-complete nursery in which I'm currently sitting while writing this. 

I've done a lot of things in my life. But I've never taken care of a baby before. Most of the skills I've acquired over the years have to do with me, and me alone. I'm a good runner, which is almost strictly a solitary sport. I'm a darn good video game player; again, mostly solo. I've read loads of books and seen lots of shows and done a whole lot of things that revolve around ME. 

Then, after getting divorced, I remarried to a woman who understands me as no one else ever has. Of course, I already had a little insight into marriage, even if my last one went down in bigger flames than the Hindenburg. At least I had a frame of reference to begin learning how to be a real husband. 

Over the last few years, I've learned a lot about being a dad. It's been the most amazing, worthwhile transformation I could ever experience. I feel a lot of the rough edges of my personality wearing away as old, selfish Graham starts to become a thing of the past. Good riddance. 

Coming this October, I'm going to be flying blind when a baby comes into my life. 

The Graham I am now, I haven't been for very long. This Graham is the best version of Graham that has ever existed. I've worked out everything this Graham has to do on a daily basis, as a husband and father and teacher and Christian and runner. Though he's still got a lot to learn regarding these various roles, he's got the basics covered. I get this Graham. 

But, like with my running, this Graham has to change. Because staying stagnant, not preparing for what's coming, isn't an option. If I'm going to become the person Ellie Kate needs, I've got do exactly what I said above: wake up earlier, go a little longer, push a little harder, give a little more effort. And then, next time, give a little more. And the time after that, a little more. 

And, OH MY GOSH, does it analogy apply to my spiritual walk! It's like the Holy Spirit only reveals things to me when I can slap to an analogy that my super-dense, completely-unable-to-discern brain can understand. How often do I get stuck in spiritual limbo, comfortable with my relationship with Christ? I read a story or book in the Bible, or hear a sermon, or go on a mission trip or a retreat... then I let those affect me, make me strive to follow Christ harder, awaken a need for more of Him... and then I sit on that happy feeling. Because the feeling is comfortable. It's easy. It's something I know. 

But staying where we are, especially in our relationship with God, is never an option. Heck, it's not even POSSIBLE. Every moment I'm not seeking to grow closer to God, I'm slipping away, distracted by the cares and stresses and responsibilities of this world. 

Shannon L. Alder once said, "Life happens one step outside of your comfort zone." And I couldn't agree more. But I want to take it a step further: life happens when you keep taking one step out of your comfort zone. Because one little step is good; but your comfort zone quickly expands to encompass that step. And then you're back in your comfort zone. Which is why I have to take another step. And another. And another. 

The REAL race is always staying one step ahead of your comfort zone. 

Or, in my case, one mile.  

"The Long Run", or "Local Wildlife"

It's been just about a month since my last entry. I don't mean to have such a large hiatus between posts. It's not that there's been nothing going on in my personal life and running life; far from it. It's just been difficult to convince myself to make time for blogging. 

Here I am again: King of Excuses. All hail. 

As anyone not hibernating will be able to tell you, this last winter has been pretty much the worst winter in memory. When I was in middle and elementary school, circa 1994-96, eastern Kentucky was routinely buried under two feet of snow at a time. But the snows weren't as frequent, as cold, or as long-lived as this year. That's put a real hamper on my training for what is shaping up to be a very active spring season. 

Last Saturday, Hillary and I ran the Run The Bluegrass Half Marathon at Keeneland Race Track. Well, she did the 7-miler, and I did the half. But we shared the common thread that the race distance was the longest distance that each of us has run in months (since the weather turned foul, as a matter of fact). 

Despite warm weather earlier in the week, the high that day was 42 degrees F. And it rained. For pretty much the whole race. 

And, despite this, here we are, smiling like lunatics when all was said and done. 

The picture quality is so poor because my hands were shaking from the cold. 

I posted a time of 2' 16", a full two minutes faster than I did last year, despite the strong headwind pushing against me, the old, worn-out shoes I was wearing (didn't want the rain to ruin my good shoes), and, of course, the cold and driving rain. Even Hillary said she felt like her time on the seven-miler was her best racing time in months, even though the crappy weather had kept her inside, too. 

So we both are optimistic about our future spring races! Take that, winter! 

But we're also both still sore, six days later. 

Let me make one thing clear: I'm the least responsible runner ever. I run simply because it's fun. I rarely record my speeds and distances, NEVER keep training logs, and never follow training plans, even though I want to do better at longer races. And very rarely stretch before races. 

So, when I left on Monday morning for a mission trip with my youth group kids, I may have still been feeling the pains of the race. And then I maaaaay have worked all week around Aldersgate Camp in Ravenna, KY, further exacerbating these pains. 

It was a good week, thought. Without going into too much detail, we spend the week helping the camp catch up on some maintenance projects that needed done to prepare the camp for its upcoming week-long summer activities. Many of my youth kids have had intense spiritual experiences at this camp (some of the even gave their life to Christ there), so being able to give back in a meaningful way was a great experience for them. Not to mention that it got me off my lazy butt during spring break. 

Yesterday, we finished our work a little earlier than expected, which resulted in a little extra free time. My back and right ankle had been killing me all week, and I could think of no better panacea than some road therapy. So I laced up the beaten pair of shoes I had brought, put on the shorts I had worn to pain a fence two days prior, and hit the rural road. 

There was no ATT signal this deep in the mountains of Appalachia (big surprise), so my GPS couldn't create a map of the road. However, the GPS satellites were still able to track my speed and distance. So I ended up with this haunting path, through the middle of nowhere. 

It was a good distance, and I even made a pretty good pace (a little slower than 10min/mile). I was chased by dogs at two different places on the trip (almost no one deep in the mountains of Appalachia ties up their dogs, much to the chagrin of runners). At one point the road wound between two cow pastures, and every one of the beasts watched me as I ran by, which was more than a little creepy. 

And, after about two miles, I saw this big fellah. 

Though you can't tell from the picture, this guy was more than a foot long, from beak to tail. After I showed the picture to my youth kids, many of them asked why I didn't pick up this massive snapping turtle and bring him back to camp. 

Bear in mind: these are city kids, who have never seen what a snapping turtle can do. 

As I've mentioned in previous posts, running is a form of therapy for me. It gives me a few moments to be alone, mull over the events in my life, and put things into perspective. I also consider it an act of worship, because it puts me out in a beautiful world created by God, and gives me a while to simply focus on Him and my own footfalls. 

I realized how short life is, and how my youth kids are, one day, going to look back on that mission trip with very different eyes than I will. I hoped I was able to be a good leader to them (this week, and every week), and I hoped I did something that week that really showed them who God is. 

I realized how much I actually missed Hillary and the girls. Having no cell service all week killed my connection to them, but keeping busy almost every minute of every day had distracted me until that moment. Then, on the road, I realized how much I ached to hold her in my arms again, how much I wanted to curl up with Faith and play Adventures Ponies on the My Little Pony website (it's a real game: look it up), and how much I missed Zoe's tight little hugs and simple requests for more milk or another fruit bar. 

And, after that, I once again realized just how amazing and faithful God is. Memories of the past few years sometimes return when I run, but lately they've been coming in the form of thankfulness instead of regret. Thankfulness to God, for all He has brought me (us!) through in the past two years, and thankfulness for His ability to create beauty from a complete mess. And, of course, thankfulness to Hillary, for being willing to listen to the inklings of the Holy Spirit. Because if we both hadn't been listening at just the right time, I doubt our amazing present (and amazing future) together would have ever happened. 

As I was finishing the run, storm clouds were rolling in over the mountains. I said a fast prayer, asking God to hold off the rain until I was safely back at camp. It seems He was happy to oblige, because the real downpour didn't start until after I had been back in the cabin for around fifteen minutes. 

It has rained for two days straight. I don't really mind. Because there are going to be more sunny days to run, more races to train for, and more days when God holds off the storms until I've found cover. 

Thursday, 8/8/13: Blood, Sweat, and Tears

First, yesterday morning's run:

Start time: 6:45AM (I accidentally turned off my alarm; oops!)
Start temperature: 72 degrees F
Start humidity: There was actually more water than air. It was miserable.
Distance: 5.90 miles
Pace: I have no idea (explained below)

Ever have one of the mornings where, when you get back from your run, you're so sweaty and thirsty that you run straight for a bottle of water and forget to turn off your GPS running app?

Yeah, me too.

I didn't remember to turn it off and record my pace until half an hour later, so it recorded my pace as around 14 min/mile. Which, of course, wasn't correct. But I imagine by pace still wasn't fantastic, because I got off to a late start, allowing the sun to rise, and the temperature was a full 20 degrees warmer than my last run. And yeah, the humidity was miserable.


And now, I'd like to talk about pain.


For me, it started out as knee pain, a few years ago.

Then the knee pain went away, and my ankles started to hurt.

Now my ankles feel better, but my achilles tendons are killing me.

That thing right above your heel. 

I've never been worried about orthopedic pain before. All the other aches and pains I've experienced while running have gone away after a few weeks or months. I've always chocked it up to my body adjusting to a new training schedule, toughening up against more punishment (most of the time, that's how training works).  

But it feels different this time. My achilles feel stiff and cold in the morning, like an old piece of leather. If I step too quickly in the morning without stretching (not run... simply walk around my house), it hurts like the dickens. I don't remember my other running aches being so prevalent when I'm not actually running. I'm actually considering seeing an orthopedic specialist to get it checked out; I've been reading up on achilles tendons tears, and they sound really nasty. 

Then again, it could just be me being a hypochondriac. Still, while I have insurance that will (mostly) cover going to a specialist, I may take advantage of it. 

If you're having similar pains, Runner's World has posted a articles about achilles pain that I've found pretty helpful. 

Are you having running pains? Let me know! I'm not a doctor (not even close!), but we runners need to stick together through our limps.