5/21/14: "Good Morning, Old Friend," *OR* "Two Lessons"

Question: What's the best part about summer?

Possible correct answers: Warmer mornings, warmer evenings, suntans, grilling, cold drinks, no school, road trips, longer evenings, earlier mornings, more comfortable clothing, and a general better quality of life.

Most correct answer: Early morning runs!

Not surprisingly, I didn't go on very many morning runs during the winter or spring. And by 'not many', I mean absolutely none. It's difficult to make myself do anything before the sun rises, and when it came to pulling myself out of bed when it was just as dark as when I went to bed, I couldn't manage it.

Tuesday was primary election day in Kentucky, and, lucky me, there was no school (an item on the very short list of perks of being a state employee). So, being as there was no pressure of getting to school on time, I decided to have my first early run of the season.

As frequenters of this blog have probably come to know, Hillary Smith and I are getting married this July. I'll be moving into the house she built last year in Versailles, a town ten or twelve miles southwest of Lexington, my current home. Though I can't wait to officially be her husband and stepdad to her two amazing girls, I have to admit that leaving Lexington is a little bittersweet. Especially when I remember my old running routes.

In particular, during the summer, I'd always hit the road around 5:30 AM and see how many miles I could clock before the sun finally got over the row of houses in my neighborhood on Tates Creek Road. I'd always tell the sun, "Good morning, old friend. I beat you this morning."

I know, it's dumb. But I looked forward to it every morning.

Yesterday, as I was running through Versailles, a town I had never run this early in the morning, the sky was thick with clouds. As I prepared to head home, my old friend finally broke through the murk.

It was then that I realized two things. 

First, it isn't the town or the road or the landscape that makes a run worthwhile, but who's waiting for you when that run is over. Before, it was just my cat, Samson. Now, I'm going to have a full house to come home to: three beautiful ladies, a rambunctious kitten, and yes, even my old cat, Sam. 

Second, I realized that my old friend had beaten me to the punch that morning. And that it's time to start lacing up earlier, because I'm not going to let the sun beat me all summer just because I'm changing locations. After all, he's still in the same place he's always been. 

5/8/14: "Running in the Queen City" OR "If I Had a Time Machine"

Warm weather... is here.

And my brain is already done with teaching. 

Okay, that's not really fair. I'm still giving each day in the classroom all I've got. I think I just have less to give, these days. The sun is high in the sky when I leave for school at 7:30, and all I can think about is all the morning runs I'm missing out on! But I have less than a month to go. I will survive. 

Speaking of running... 

Last weekend (May 3rd and 4th), Hillary and I drove to Cincinnati for the Flying Pig Marathon. Although, it was more like a running FESTIVAL, since there were races going on for two whole days. Seeing as how we're both notorious procrastinators, we waited until the last minute to book a hotel room. We shouldn't have been surprised to find not a single hotel room in the city (there were around 40,000 runners for the five combined races, and apparently they ALL needed their own rooms). The only place we were able to find with a room available was a 130-year-old bed and breakfast called The Parker House, near the University of Cincinnati's campus. 

We were not disappointed. 

This place was cheaper than the downtown hotels, and less than 2 miles from the starting lines! 

We lived like royalty on Friday night, then woke up early on Saturday so Hillary could run the Flying Pig 10K. She could have totally handled the half marathon (my lady is a beast), but we were concerned that, having only been 2 weeks since she ran her very first half, she hadn't had adequate time to recover and risked injury.  

But she still looked pretty happy to be running the 10K! 

Those are my sunglasses she's wearing. Don't let the smile fool you. Born clepto. 

That night, I had a difficult time falling asleep. In a mere few hours I would be running only my second marathon, a physical feat I hadn't attempted in over a year and a half. The last time I had run a marathon, I had barely been able to move the following day. With the terrible winter we'd faced in Kentucky, and the lackluster training season that had resulted from it, how could I possibly finish? Forget setting a personal record!  

What was I getting myself into? 

But it was too late. I had already paid for it, and by jove, I was going to get $85.00 worth of pain out of it. 

The race started at 6:30AM, and, of course, I was running late the next morning. Parking was, of course, a nightmare, and I hadn't even found my corral (or Pig Pen, as the Flying Pig referred to them) by the time the pistol sounded to start the race. I was forced to hop a fence, meander into the nearest Pig Pen, and start running. No stretching, no breakfast, no nothing. 

As you can see, I got off to an awesome start. It was time to just run and hope for the best. 

I decided to chronicle the event by taking a snapshot every three miles. That way, even if the race turned out to be a total bust, I would still have evidence that I attempted to finish the darn thing. 

Mile three found me on a bridge, heading back into my Old Kentucky Home. Check out those clouds. 

At mile six, I was having flashbacks from my first marathon, in Las Vegas. 

At mile nine, the road was narrow and crowded with people. To avoid a shot full of strangers, I took this one from the side. 

It was at this point that I really hit my stride. Once the 13.1-ers and the 26.2-ers split, I found my legs aching less, my breathing easing, and me caring less about the time I was going to make. 

Best part about the Flying Pig? Running through there residential neighborhoods. The people of Cincinnati really know how to make a runner feel welcome. Their cheers and support kept me moving. 

On the highway. It was shortly after (before?) this sign that I saw the Cincinnati Parrot Head League, The Queen City's premiere Jimmy Buffett fan club. 

At mile 21, I had begin to walk a few minutes every mile. I also realized that, during my last marathon, I had started walking around mile 9. Which was encouraging. 

When I could see the city in the distance at mile 24, I realized that I wouldn't be taking another picture until the finish line. 

Me, at the finish line, newly knighted as a Flying Pig Marathon finisher. 

I finished the race in exactly 5'12"00'''. Which, for anyone keeping score (and I totally am), is one minute and thirty-nine seconds faster than my Las Vegas marathon. To further fuel my encouragement, I felt like this course was much harder than the Vegas course (Cincy hills versus Vegas flatness), and the weather was far more hospitable in Vegas (May sun and heat versus December cool and nighttime). 

And, as further icing on the proverbial cake, I didn't feel like I wanted to die the next day. In fact, yesterday (two days since the race), I did a two-mile tempo run with Hillary. 

So I'm already looking for at least one fall marathon - maybe two.  The more I do this, the better I'm going to get. Heck, it's the only way I'm going to get better. 

Have you ever wanted to go back in time to tell something to your past self?  You probably do; I imagine everyone has some things they wish they could do differently. Unlike Kang the Conquerer (from Marvel Comics) or Biff Tannon (from Back to the Future), I wouldn't use time travel simply to remake the world in my image. There's not much I would undo in my past, simply because those events, no matter how difficult they make have been, have molded me into who I am today. And, for the first time in a while, I like who I am. And yes, included on the list of "difficult things I wouldn't undo" is my divorce. 

So, after I acquired a time machine from a wild-eyed old man, I'd go back and have a talking-to with my fifteen-year-old self. 

Fifteen-year-old Graham was an overweight, socially awkward, never-been-kissed band nerd, and he didn't think much of himself, either. His days were spent playing Magic: The Gathering, listening to bad 80's hair metal (I didn't discover it until around 1998), and wishing he had the guts to ask out one girl or another. He was self-concious about his weight, never knew how to fix his hair, and was terrified of rejection. 

Maybe I'd be a substitute teacher for him at Belfry High School. And, just after class let out, I'd call him to the teacher's desk and explain who I was (fifteen-year-old me had enough understanding of science fiction to believe me). I'd tell him to keep his chin up, to keep doing the things he loves, and to never give up on a dream. 

I'd tell him to keep fighting the good fight, because he was going to be looked up to by dozens of youth group kids one day. 

I'd tell him to not give up on his fitness goals, because one day he was going to run for five hours straight and actually feel pretty good afterward. 

I'd tell him to not worry about his poor luck with high school girls, because one day, after some ups and downs, he was going to marry Hillary Smith. 

(At this point, his eyes would get as big as silver dollars, because he know's she waaaay out of his league. Just like she's still out of my league today, even though she won't admit it. ;)  

So, fifteen-year-old Graham, if time travel is ever a thing, and I go back in time and tell you all this stuff, and you're one day able to write this blog post while remembering the things I said... if we haven't unraveled the very fabric of reality, I'd like you to know that you turned out pretty good. Even if you still have some areas to improve upon. 

"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!