"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. 

"New Roads"

I've been engaged for three whole weeks.

No, it's not the first time. And as such, it's much different than the last time I was engaged. I'm a full five years older, now into my thirties. For Hillary, it's been more than a decade since she had to worry about the details of a wedding. Though we have both agreed that this is going to be the last wedding we ever have to plan, we have agreed to err on the side of simplicity in as many areas as possible.

Yesterday, we booked Equus Run Vineyards for Friday, July 18th. So, to everyone out there, this is date you're going to have to remind me every year to buy flowers and presents. (Kidding, kidding! I'm never going to forget this date)

We were going to go with Saturday, the 26th, but someone literally booked it the day before we got to the vineyard. So, to cut down on time spent planning and researching, we decided for the Friday, since all the other Saturdays were either booked at the venue site, or we had other activities going on.

So far, this doesn't quite seem like new territory for the two of us yet. We have each, of course, done this before.

But remember, circumstances are far different for each of us now than they were the first time.

And yesterday night, I found myself with a feeling of being surrounded on all sides by decisions to be made, and a rapidly closing window in which to make them.

Colors.

Photographer.

Groomsmen and bridesmaids.

Wedding bands.

DJ.

Honeymoon.

Guest list (then save-the-date cards, then invitations)

And I'm sure a half-dozen things I haven't even bothered getting stressed about yet.

Suddenly, something I thought was going to be simple and low-key was becoming very complicated. Wow... come to think of it, even the act of making that list sort of stressed me out all over again.

This weekend, Hillary and I are in Louisville, visiting my brother Aaron and his wife, Rebecca. Hillary's ring has been resized at Merkley Kendrick Jewelers, to minimize the risk of it slipping off while she saves the world on a daily basis. I've had the majority of the day to myself: Aaron has been with the middle school kids from his church's youth group on a mission project all day, and Hillary and Rebecca have been taking care of all the feminine aspects of wedding planning (UPDATE: I just heard that Hillary's found and bought her wedding dress!).

So I took time today to go for a nice, long run through the unfamiliar streets of Louisville, Kentucky.

Running is my coping mechanism. When I'm pounding the pavement, things tend to drift into a new, fresh perspective. I suspect that I have adult ADD (my twin brother has just come to the same realization about himself, which you can read about in hilarious cartoon form), and the physical activity helps me get my thought organized. 

Plus, I'm actually learning my way around L'ville. At least the area around Aaron and Rebecca's house. 

Somewhere along either Eastern Parkway or Bardstown Road, things started to gain perspective. 

Yes, wedding planning is stressful. Yes, weddings are expensive, and always end up twice as expensive as one expects they will (anyone who has ever paid for a wedding will vouch for this). But, holy cow... I'm getting married again!  After my divorce, I wasn't sure this would ever happen!  And I was convinced that, if I did decide to get married again, I would simply have to settle for someone, to marry the first woman who showed the mildest interest in me, simply for the sake of not being alone for the rest of my life. 

I never dreamed what God would make of the rubble that was my life. And I surely never thought that he would send someone as awesome as Hillary (and, bonus! Two beautiful, wonderful little girls) into my life. 

God not only has built from the rubble: he has taken the rubble, rearranged it into an avant-garde masterpiece, and handed it to me on a silver platter. And I'm complaining about wedding planning? That'd be like winning the lottery and complaining that I couldn't think of enough ways to spend the money. 

The day of the wedding is going to be a rushed whirlwind, no matter what we do. Ten, twenty years from now, we're not going to remember what parts of the planning were the most stressful. All we're going to remember is how much fun we had on the day that we joined our lives, closed two chapters of "God has brought us through turmoil", and began a chapter of "What God is doing for us now". 

So bring on the planning. When it's finished, it's going to be totally worth it. 

And on a side note, Louisville is my kind of town. 

Seen outside a coffee shop. As if you needed me to tell you. 

"Running Therapy" OR "Bolding Going"

This is my first post since the first day of February. It has been a very eventful month for me.

First and foremost, if you're a consistent follower of this blog, you've probably heard me talk about my girlfriend Hillary (you might have even checked out her blog, which I link to fairly often). She's also a runner, though she's only been at it for around a year. Despite this, she's LEAPS AND BOUNDS above where I was after my first year of running, and at this pace she'll start lapping me in a year or two.

Yes, I said a year or two. And I'm confident of this timetable because I asked her to marry me. And she said yes.

Running is one of the paramount hobbies that we share; more importantly, running was, for each of us, a way to deal with the frightening turn our lives had taken after our divorces. So, it only seemed fitting to make running part of our engagement.

I talked to the awesome people at John's Run/Walk Shop, Lexington's most amazing local store for all things running. When I told them my plan, they were elated, and said they'd be thrilled to help. So the following Saturday (February 8th), I took Hillary to the store, where she picked out a new pair of running shoes. When she went to give them a spin around the block (which John's insists everyone do before buying, to get a feel for the pair), I prepared myself with the ring.

When she came back into the store, I popped the question.

One of the dedicated John's employees captured the moment on her phone. The video is on John's Run/Walk Shop's Facebook Page

Our friend Sarah created this image for us, and I can't think of anything more fitting that she could have captioned it with.

Even if I look exhausted and/or impaired. 

So the last two weeks have been me trying to get back into the flow of a five-day school week (we've only managed that TWICE since Christmas break), and Hillary and I deciding all the things that come with planning a wedding. 

Today, I had a few hours to myself: Hillary's been off to a women's retreat at church, taking the girls with her to play in the kid's room for a few hours. I decided to try to get in some much-needed milage that the crappy winter weather has robbed me of. 

As I was getting ready, I received a text from the person I would have least expected. 

My ex-wife. 

In case you're new to the blog, my now ex-wife moved out of our house almost two years ago. It's been since August 2012 that I've even laid eyes on her, and it's taken me nearly every minute since then to get over her.

She still texts me sometimes, over small stuff. To tell me Kroger now carries my favorite brand of coffee. To send me a funny picture she found on the internet. And, surprisingly, to congratulate me on my engagement. Those texts, I don't really mind. But this particular text message, without going into too much detail, was asking for my help.

I don't know if you (dear reader) have ever had a loved one willingly distance themselves from you, but there is nothing that hurts quite as much. And watching that person go through hard times, knowing you're unable to help, is heart-wrenching.

I have a new life now. I'm about to become part of a wonderful family, with a wife and two wonderful little girls that I love more than I ever thought possible. It would be the definition of irresponsibility to help my ex when my current family needs all my resources. But how could I deny helping someone I used to care so much about?

To clear my head, I went for a run. My longest run in months.

I may have had some thinking to do. 

Even before my head was clear, I knew my responsibly was to my new family, not to her, and creating a new thread between us wouldn't be healthy for either of us. So, after my run, I sent her a respectful text in return and told her I couldn't help. 

And now, her I sit on a Sunday morning, watching Faith, the most amazing four- year-old in the world, playing My Little Pony games on her mom's laptop. I couldn't be more affirmed in my decision to dedicate myself to my awesome little family. Yeah, the road getting here was tough and painful, but all that's behind me now.  And it was well worth the trip. 

I think she has the pony fashion game memorized by now. 

Thursday, January 16th, 2014: "Freezing My Butt Off" *or* "The Biggest Idiot Ever."

Okay, so I promise I actually have updated since October. I *tried* to post about my most recent Tough Mudder run, but I accidentally was logged into my Blogger account for my short story blog, Cut and Dry. So my most recent running post is there, as I am too tired at the moment to move it onto this blog. 

Not only that, why would I move an older post when I am now creating a fresh, NEW post!  

This concludes the "Biggest Idiot Ever" portion of the post. 

As for the "Freezing My Butt Off" portion: anyone living pretty much anywhere east of Texas and north of the Florida panhandle know what I'm talking about. America has been downright cold as of late, and I have only gotten the opportunity to run outside twice in the last month.  

And not only that, I'm starting to see the result of all the time I took off of running in the fall while I was perpetually ill. Like, around my waist line.  

So I've tackled my old nemesis, the treadmill, twice this week. In case you're unaware on my stance on treadmills, I described in an earlier post how much I'd rather be pounding some concrete that moving on a motorized belt. But, as I'm finding out, sometimes an outdoor run is just out of the question. I've not logged more than 4 miles at a time on the treadmill yet (I get bored easily, and my willpower runs out fast when I'm able to stop whenever I want without the penalty of having to run home), but I find myself getting a little better. At least I think I am, which is something. 

On a more exciting note, I recently got an email about the Kentucky Half Classic, two half marathons in Kentucky's two most beautiful cities, 21 days apart. I was actually already registered for the Run the Bluegrass Half Marathon and the Kentucky Derby Festival Mini-Marathon, so this came as a nice surprise! 

Tons of cool amenities will be given to people who finish both races! 

- A special finisher medal (in addition to the two medals for both races) 

- Half Classic food and drink booths and photo ops 

- Stickers for your race bib 

- And... most importantly... VIP TOILETS!! (This was a huge selling point for me, as I found the Kentucky Derby Festival Half in Louisville to be very short on port-o-potties). 

They're both phenomenal races, worth entering on their own merit. But the added incentive is simply too cool to pass up. 

On a serious note: I am seriously going to get back into this blog. I'm not sure how many fledgling runners out there I am actually helping, but keeping track of my running trials and errors is what keeps me on the road. When my blogging slacks off, my running slacks off, and vice versa. Even if I feel like dirt and have a crappy run, writing about it makes me want to get back out there and have a better run to make up for it. 

Not to mention that I have been blessed far beyond what I deserve, and sitting around being sedentary is no way to show my appreciation. I have a wonderful relationship with Hillary and the girls, and I've gotten to see a lot of them while work crews have been tearing out both the bathrooms in my house (it;s a long, messy story). 

Yes, the January is cold and dark, and usually my winter depression sits in about now. But I have these two bad boys to help me through. 

Sun lamp and space heater. With their powers combined... I am... a functioning human being! Oh, and the electric guitar behind them helps, too. 

Anyway, I hope this entry find you in good spirits, injury-free, ready to face the next mile. 

ToughER Mudder, *or* A Pirate's Life For Me! PLUS how YOU can do something great!

Two weekends ago, me and my friend Doug Staggs once again ran the Tough Mudder in Maysville, Kentucky. For anyone unaware of the event, the Tough Mudder is a 10-12 mile trail run and obstacle course; called "The toughest event on the planet" by some.

This year, the weather was FAR better than last year. Sunshine, at least 10 degrees warmer, and no rain! That, coupled with starting toward the head of the pack so we didn't get bottlenecked at the events, helped Doug and I finished two and half HOURS faster this year!

Needless to say, we were pretty happy with the success.

Just look at the exuberance on my face. 

The following Monday evening, I came down with what my principal, Joe Matthews (a four-time Mudder himself) calls "The Curse of the Mudder". Flu-like symptoms kept me home from school the next day. No pain, no gain!

Halloween is coming up, and although this blog is normally full of my athletic exploits, I'd be remiss not to mention my favorite holiday of the year. Last weekend, me and Hillary went to visit my brother Aaron and his wife Rebecca in Louisville. Of course, there was a Halloween party, and of course we wore costumes.

I actually wanted to be a pirate when I was a kid. Ask my parents. The couch made a suitable pirate ship. 

This afternoon I was over her house, carving pumpkins with her little girls Faith and Zoe, and was once again blown away by what God has done in my life in the last year and a half. His ability to create rivers in the dry wasteland continues to amaze me. It simply proves that, no matter how terrible things seem to have become, God always has a plan to bring peace and prosperity that stretches beyond temporary circumstances. 

The aforementioned jack-o-lanterns. They turned out better than I expected! 

Every now and then, I have the chance to let my faith and my hobbies overlap. Many of you may remember that, over the summer, I raised money to help buy school supplies for needy kids in my area with a project called Miles for Missions. I'm happy to announce that, for the month of November, I'm reviving the Miles for Missions project for another very worthy cause. 

In June 2014, I am going to Guatemala for ten days with a mission team from Trinity Hill United Methodist Church. While in the country, we will be working on cleaning and construction projects, as well as relational ministry with the impoverished children of Chichicastenango, Guatemala. 

Here's how Miles for Missions works: during the month of November, I'm going to be running my butt off. I would like YOU to sponsor me for the number of miles I run! Any amount will help!  $0.25 per mile, $0.10 per mile, or even $0.05 per mile will make a real difference. Any one-time donations are also very much needed and appreciated. 

One-hundred percent of the money I raise with Miles for Missions will go toward the cost of sending me to Guatamala. If you feel that God has laid it upon your heart to give, please email me at grahampatricksmith@gmail.com. 

I would very much appreciate any PRAYERS you're willing to offer, too. The trip is very much outside my comfort zone, but I know that God is going to do amazing things in my life and in the lives of the people I'm going to encounter while I'm there!

Until next time: May the road rise to meet you! 

Monday, 10-15-13: Cracked Ribs

These are the stats from my latest long run. Yesterday I managed to clock 11 miles at a pretty conservative pace, which isn't bad for going more than a week since my last long run. 

For some reason, that run left me ACHING more than past long runs. Maybe it was because I did it in the evening. Maybe it's because the weather is getting cooler. Or maybe I'm just getting a little out of shape. Either way, I decided to take it easy today. 

This coming Sunday, October 20th, I'm running the Tough Mudder again, again with my friend Doug. He's the only guy I know crazy enough to want to do such a thing with me not once, but twice.  Last October, one of the event photographers managed to snap this amazing picture of me after I emerged from a dumpster full of ice water. 

Clearly, I was thrilled to be there. 

Today also marks a pretty important milestone. Four months ago to the day, HIllary and I went on what we called our first official "date" to see Here Come the Mummies in concert at Buster's here in Lexington (wow, that's a lot of links in one sentence). That's four months of happiness after a year and a half of battles, heartache, anger, frustration, and plain ole' weariness. 

Looking at where I am now, I can see God's plans through it all. And so can she. 

The Tough Mudder is famous for its notorious final obstacle: electroshock therapy, where contestants dash through hanging live electrical wires. But last year there was one more obstacle that I sometimes forget, when remembering the insanity of that day. It was a crawl up a muddy hill that had been embedded with tractor tires. And it was on this final obstacle that I found a large crowd.  

One guy, in the middle of the group, had cracked some ribs somewhere on the dangerous, rough-and-tumble, 13-mile course. His face was set in a painful grimace with every movement, but still he pressed onward. All around him people offered to help, to carry him over the tires. Sometimes he accepted their help, but sometimes he'd refuse: the wrong movements could jostle his cracked ribs, putting him in even more pain. 

My separation and subsequent divorce were like a bellyfull of cracked ribs. I carried them around with me for a long time, their dull ache making every movement like knives. Just when I thought the pain had finally ebbed away, I'd make one wrong move, and suddenly feel the pain as fresh as ever.  

Even though I don't feel the sting of those old injuries anymore, I still remember how much they hurt. But I guess that's a good thing. If I don't remember the pain, remember why it was there and learn what I can do to prevent it in the future, then the whole experience would have been a waste. But I've grown through it all; as a man, as a partner in a relationship, and in my faith in God.

I can now clearly see God's plan that got me through those times. If I had been able to see God's end result through the pain, it would have made the pain a little more bearable... but I would not have learned as much, and I wouldn't be the man that God has forged me into because of it. 

So as I prep for this upcoming Tough Mudder, I remember the place I am in now, and where I was a year ago. Whether I'm in as good shape as I was last year is yet to be seen... but I am certainly more whole now than I was then. With the emotional cracked ribs finally healed, I simply need to avoid cracking any literal ribs. 

And I'm taking a waterproof disposable fun camera with me, to chronaloge the whole thing. 

First Post in a While. Much Has Happened...

I think this is what happened last fall, when I stepped away from this blog for nearly a year. I let the busyness of life take over, pushing pursuits such as this, these things I'd actually LIKE to do, to the wayside. Before I slip back into that pattern for another year, I'm jumping back into Runner Confidential.

The weather is getting cooler, which means that running season is getting into full swing.  I don't have to punish myself with 5AM morning runs before work anymore. Afternoons are cooler, the sun is setting earlier. Not to mention that Lexington is finally listening to my ravings by adding...

... sidewalks to Tates Creek Road!  

I've been running Tates Creek Road for a while now in an attempt to extend my milage.  Put simply, Lexington has never been a city extremely friendly to its runners. Sidewalks in residential neighborhood simply end, or switch to the opposite side of the road (often over very busy, multi-lane roads). This has forced me to run in the narrow strip of concrete between the painted white line and the curb, which is sometimes too narrow to keep my feet inside. But now I have the luxury of a sidewalk, that runs nearly the distance from my house to the Chevy Chase area!   

Since my last post, I've logged quite a few miles, including my first long runs since summer. Trying to keep my milage up is a struggle, though. There are only so many hours in a day, and I'm working literally twice as hard in my teaching job this year as I was last year. Not to mention that I'm still trying to learn to play guitar, still the assistant youth pastor, and spending more time with Hillary than ever. 

But I don't mind giving of my time to her and the girls. I wish I had more to give, in fact. My relationship with her has really shown that God will make all things work together for our good; even (no, especially) the hurtful, out-of-control events of our lives.

2013 has been a much better year than 2012 was. Regular readers of this blog will remember the long break I took while I started divorce proceedings, and the lengthy explanation I gave as to my absence. Finally, after trying to go it on my own more than a year ago, and waiting for an attorney to do his magic for almost six months, my divorce was finalized on September 30th, 2013; eight years TO THE DAY that my now ex-wife and I started dating.  

My brother, Aaron, told me that it was an appropriate bookend to that old portion of my life. I have to agree that there's a finality to it now, one I've wanted for a long time now. I wasn't sad; I'd spent months and months being sad, and that wasn't a road I was going down again. I had been divorced on all ground except legal for a long time. 

While we were both waiting on the confirmation of our divorces, Hillary and I joked that we'd frame the paperwork and hang them side-by-side on a wall together someday. And although I'm glad it's over, I find myself not wanting to celebrate the divorce. Divorce is nothing anyone should have to go through, although statistics show that half of all Americans will have to. So I'm just going to put the paperwork into a folder, file it away somewhere for safe keeping, and move on with my new life. 

Also... did you know that pawn shops won't buy a tungsten ring?  Turns out that they only buy jewelry for the meltdown value, and tungsten has a melting point of over 3400 degrees F.  So I guess it's a perfect metaphor for a functional marriage!  But now it appears I'm stuck with an indestructible wedding band, size 8, that cannot be unmade by anything less than the fires of Mount Doom. 

So, it's on Craigslist, if anyone is looking. :)   

Until next post, which will not take me so long to create: may the road rise to meet you, and may the wind always be at your back. It makes running that much easier.