Leaves of Gold...Almost Forgotton

I am preparing once again to move, and I have started the traditional process of throwing stuff away. In about 3 weeks, we will be moving to Georgetown in Washington, DC...and the house we are moving into is smaller than our current home. So...my thinking is...let's get ready for the stuff we don't need and haven't used in several years. Easy process, but I almost made a huge mistake.

Last year my mother gave me several of my father's old books...some I've looked at and used, others I've passed on to individuals who might benefit from them...and some of the ancient ones that are damaged and in bad condition, I've actually thrown out.

Just about an hour ago, I was going through the old books again. I came across an old book entitled "Leaves of Gold." I flipped through the pages...and it a collection of early prayers, poems, and inspirational stories, but nothing I felt was worthy of keeping. As I walked to the trash can to throw it out, I flipped to the front page. Written on the page was "Presented to Maggie and John, October 25, 1950, on their Golden Wedding Anniversary" signed by Pearl L. Walker.

I recognized Maggie and John as my father's parents, and this was one of the gifts presented to them at their 50th Anniversary. But the real value was on the opposing page on the left side. There was a list of signatures...signatures of family members who were present for the celebration. As I looked through the names, there were several uncles, aunts, and other family members, most of them now gone from this life. As I looked through them...there was my father and mother' signatures.

The book means little to me...but, the signature page...priceless.

Midnight on South Mountain (Part III: The Finish)

Finish!  The last few strides and the passing of the slap bracelet, and it was over.  I found myself fighting for air, but my part was done.

A few weeks ago, as I lay in bed talking with my wife, she turned to me and told me that she was proud of me and how she thought I was so successful.  I responded…no sorry, but I’ve failed so many times, and in so many ways, I couldn’t be that successful.  I then shared that it was like the Pittsburgh Steelers.  They might win this game and that game…but then they might lose the next.  They won the Super Bowl only to lose another…so success was too fleeting of a term.  I’d rather be known for what I was doing, rather than what I did.  I would rather be a good husband, good father, good chaplain, or a good runner.  And I would instead leave the word “success” for someone to mention of me after I finish my life.
This last remembrance of the Ragnar race of September 23 and 24, 2011, has been painful for me to write.  Difficult simply because it is about the “finish” so let me continue.
When I originally signed up for the race, my three legs were the combination of a 6-mile run, then a 6.6-mile run and a final leg of 6 miles.  But a race like life changed

and changed without my permission.  Due to parking issues, the race organizers moved the relay zone to an elementary school where there was parking.  So they shifted my last leg about 2.8 miles in the wrong direction.  About two weeks before the race, I had learned that my final leg was to be an 8.8 miles section of Rock Creek Park and the Georgetown Branch Trail into Bethesda, Maryland.

As I ran the last section, I could feel the accumulative effect of the sleep deprivation that I had imposed upon my body.  Having only 3 hours of sleep during the previous 24 hours, and that little sleep delivered while lying on a bench seat of a van did very little to aid my body in recovering.  My left knee was still sore from the first leg, my body ached from the excretion over South Mountain, and my mind was now numbed by the lack of sleep.  To be honest, I was even more aware in this last section, I would end up walking and crawling to the finish.  As I stood once again at the relay zone, my teammate gathered around.  All expressed, to me, confidence in me that I knew I lacked.  As I took the slap bracelet, my simple prayer was “Lord, don’t let me let them down.” As I headed away from the starting line, I saw Lt Colonel David Vernal.  His leg still bloody from his first leg fall, but he had run so heroically despite the bruised foot and knee. I couldn’t let him down.  And so I pushed on.  As I turned into Rock Creek Park, I thought about Jason Dugan, our speedster…he had run his three legs hard and
fast.  He had such a natural stride and was a last minute replacement to help out our team.  I couldn’t let him down.  As I ran through the park along the trail up and down the little rises, I thought of Captain Mary Garavelli, she had been handed the hardest of the legs, the monster 3rd leg that was the first significant mountain climb.  We had cheered her every step as she climbed the first mountain of the race.  And at the top, she was just bouncing with energy…I couldn’t let her down.   As I ran up and onto the Georgetown Branch Trail, I could feel my body going…and I thought of Captain Michael Johnson, who at the last leg fell asleep right before his leg and we had to go find him to get him to the starting line.  We then watched him fly like he had jet wings to make up the time he lost and gained back several extra minutes, I couldn’t let that sacrifice he made go for not, so I pushed on.   As I ran along the Georgetown path, which was an old train line, I realized that this was going to be a lot tougher than I imagined.  But Ken Myers didn’t let down on his first, second, or last leg.  He had pushed it into me every time he made his hand off of the bracelet to me, and I couldn’t let him down, and so I pushed.  About this time, I started to pass slower runners who now were falling apart.  They were walking and stopping to stretch. 
These were the team that had been beating us…I couldn’t fail my team.  I thought of those in the other van, Captain Brian Viola and his wife Cynthia, who I had been handing off to, Master Sergeant Tom Harmon, Master Sergeant Cozette Teasley, and our team captain, Senior Master Sergeant Jorge Laurel, and our anchor runner Captain Markenson Dieujuste. They had been there cheering me on…and now I had to run.  As I left the trail heading the last mile uphill into Bethesda, I pushed…I only had one mile left to run.  And if I had too, I would lay it all out here on this hill and die, I would not be passed, and I would finish…no so much for me but for them.  I would run for them who had kept faith with me and did their best.
As I finished my leg and passed the slap bracelet on to Mrs. Viola, it hit me…we weren’t home yet.  There was still the other van of six runners who had to finish.  So our six runners left and headed for the finish line in DC Harbor.  Around three, the
other van came in, and we gathered together about 300 yards from the finish line, and we waited for Captain Markenson Dieujuste to arrive.  On his arrival, we all joined him that last 300 yards, and together we all finished the race.
After the team received our finisher medal and had a group picture taken, we went to a pavilion where there were pizza and beer for the finishers.  As we sat around a table, we talked about our adventure and the twist and turns that come our way.  We shared pizza and beer.  As we celebrated the end, it was heaven to me.
Heaven, because in my theology, and in the practice of my faith…it was heaven.  I honestly believe that when this life is done and my final race has been run, I will gather together with others who have been a part of my life and we will sit around a

table, stand behind chairs, we will slap each other on the back and high five each one another.  We will share stories of the road and will celebrate life.  And Jesus will be there, and he will take a piece of pizza and hand it to us and say this is my body, and then he will take up a cup of beer and give it to us and say drink this is my blood.  And we'll celebrate…

So…am I successful…today…tomorrow…I might lose but in the end…I guess it doesn’t really matter because it is the journey….  It’s the journey that’s the critical part.  (Oh…by the way…last leg, 8.8 miles was done in 1 hour 18 minutes and 18 seconds…which is an 8:55 per mile pace, I never did those 9: 45-mile legs that I had a plan on doing.)

Midnight on South Mountain (Part II: The Mountain)

Now here at 25 minutes to midnight, I stood waiting.  My left knee throbbing with a dull pain, I knew I had over extended in that first section, but now I was facing this 6.6 mile section with a 900 foot climb.  I would be off as soon as our runner arrived.  The rain from earlier in the day was gone, but everything felt wet. 

Earlier in the evening I was talking with a fellow runner and he said that when it got hard, he found himself focusing on prayer.  As he shared his thought on how he dealt with the discomfort of running, I was reminded of a marathon in New Orleans.  At every turn in the course, I would say the “Lord’s Prayer.”  Though it was years ago, I couldn’t remember why I did it.  But when he said those words, focusing on prayer, it came back.  In the midst of the trails of life, our savior’s prayer has relevance.  In the joys of life, this simple prayer had power.  In the pain of striving forward, there was a healing peace.  So now standing there waiting for the runner to come, I started, “Our Father, who art in heaven…”  As I prayed there in the dark and cold, I felt my body relaxed.  I was ready, there in the center of my being.

As I watched out through the night, I felt the other runner coming into the light.  I stretched out my arm and the snap bracelet found it.  Turning up the hill, I started out into the dark.  My head lamp showed me the road ahead.  Looking up was like looking into the blackness of space.  Lights from distant houses, cars, and team vans were the only thing visible.  And above me the darkness of clouds blocked all the nocturnal lights.  At the top of the small rise I started on, I left my eyes again and in the distance, were a few sets of blinking red lights of fellow runners on this dark country road.

This first mile was a set of undulating hills; at the top of each crest you could see the blinking red lights of the runners in front.  The road was still and silent.  The distance had separated us from the other teams.  Those who were faster were long gone and those slower had fallen off the pace, still there was a string of runners making their way towards the summit of South Mountain.  At the end of the first mile the road began a slow rise, which marked the beginning of the 900 feet of climb.  Easy and peaceful, I found myself relaxing and found a prayer in each step I was taking.  My thoughts drifted to my family, to my four wonderful children, and precious wife.  “God, be with them…keep them safe this night as they sleep…and I run up this mountain.”  Then other family members and friends, each remembered with petitions to God for their needs and struggles.  I was lost in my thoughts for each of these people who touched my life in many ways that they will never know…and the peace continue.  I passed a few runners and in those moments, we greeted each other as companions, no longer competitors, as we engaged in the struggle to reach the summit in our lives.

I felt the pressure in my arms and chest.  I knew my heart rate was climbing as I moved into a steeper section of the mountain.  The road was just the few feet my headlamp illumed before me.  I wasn’t sure of my time, but I didn’t care.  My prayer for others turned to a prayer for our nation and concerns for the poor and homeless.  I propelled myself up the mountain, I found myself on the verge of tears.  The pain from my left knee sent sparks up my left side.  In those few moments I envisioned another climbing a hill.

One of the great mysteries of faith is the connection that we have with the suffering of Christ.  At this point my mysticism view of religion kicks in, but this connection I believe is an aid and I don’t know how to describe it any better than that.  William James in his book “Varieties of Religious Experience” notes this phenomenon as well.  But to deal with this would reduce the experience to something that cannot be fully explained.  Simply put…as the pain and pressure of running up the mountain increase in me there was equally reaction that drove me into a stronger feeling of peace.  This run was becoming more a spiritual event that transported my mind and spirit to another level of reality.  There was a physical pain, but there was a spiritual peace that came over me in the midst of this battle.  It seemed that time slowed, the universe was suspended, and I experience something unique to me.  My body moved through time and space and yet my spirit was the actor.  It pulled me up and forward.  If it was the result of the combination of the water vapor, the headlamp, the fatigue, the pain, could not deny these influences, but there was something more involved in the struggle.  A presence ran beside me urging me up.

Before I knew it I was making the decent down the mountain.  I felt nothing put the need to push down the hill as hard as I could propel my body forward.  Then finally in the midst of the darkness, a glow appeared further down the road.  As I made my way into the relay area, I was shocked at how short the run felt.  I quickly pulled and straightened the slap bracelet and came into the relay zone.  My replacement stood there, holding out her arm. And it was over; I hit the stop button on my watch and saw the time 56:57.  Initially I couldn’t understand what I read.  I should have been 1:10:57 or something in that area.  I looked again and the numbers did not change, it read 56:57.  I had just covered 6.6 miles over 900 feet of climb at a pace of 8:46.  My fellow teammates rallied around me, and they made me feel like I had just won the gold medal.  Their high-fives and slaps on the back were incredible.  The remarkable thing was that my earlier section of 6 miles had been covered in 53:47 for a pace of 8:57.  Now I had just run 11 second faster for each mile in the dark and over a mountain.  If the truth is to be told, I didn’t do it alone.

“Since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us….” (Harper Bibles (2011-11-22). NRSV Bible with the Apocrypha (Kindle Locations 68399-68401). Harper Collins, Inc.. Kindle Edition.)

I was surrounded by the prayers and thoughts of teammates, friends and family.  A few days later, I had the chance to see a video clip made by one of my teammates.  They had stopped on the mountain to film my blinking lights, and cheer me on.  But I was so lost in my thoughts, I never saw them.  But they were there.

As we battle the challenges in our lives, we climb the mountains that line our paths; we do not do it alone.  We have others around us to help us on our way, even if we do not see them, they are there standing on the side of the road cheering us on to the end.  Now with my first two sections complete, there was the last one to face.  I hadn’t thought about it until now and with my body trying to recover and fighting for sleep, I knew I needed to refuel and rest.  Then test my body one last time.

Midnight on South Mountain. (Part I: The journey begins)

Sorry, I've not been keeping this updated. But been very busy running...and praying. Here is my reflection on the Washington DC Ragnar 198 mile relay race from Cumberland, Maryland to the DC Harbor in South DC. This will be a three part reflection...tonight is the first part of Mid Night on South Mountain.

"The journey begins."

It is about 11:35 pm on the evening of the 23rd of September, I am quietly waiting for a runner to arrive at the relay passing zone. I am the 6th runner on our 12 person Ragnar Relay team running the 198 mile relay from Cumberland, Maryland to Washington, DC. I am also the oldest member of our team.

Earlier in the day during my first leg, I had a very tough downhill run. When I started that first leg, my goal was to run easy and save my legs for the run over South Mountain, which I knew was going to be the hardest leg of my three runs. But as we made the hand off of the slap bracelet the competition bug hit me. The team was running well and some of the other teams that started with us were still with us. As I started that first leg, one runner passed me, a young woman. That was okay…I’ve been passed by many runners before. Then no sooner than she passed another runner, then another. Three runners past by in just the first few feet of my run, and then the competitor came out. I was not going to be the “old, slow” runner for our team. I picked up the pace.

Even though this section was basically a downhill section, there were still several steep climbs that we had to face, and I took advantage of those climbs. On the first climb, I passed the one of the runners who slipped past me at the start of the leg. And then on the second, I passed the other two. I was in the zone…and I started to push when I heard that young lady come up on my shoulder on the next downhill. The race was on and I was not going to lose.

I slowed a bit to let her pass me, but she didn’t. She was going to sit on me until the end of the leg, and let me pace her. For the next several miles, I could hear her breathing. I was keeping my pace but realized that it was faster than I was expecting. My initial plan was to run this section in about 9:45 minutes per mile, but I knew, I was actually covering the distance at 9 minutes per mile. I also knew because of looking over the route profile that there was one last large climb just before the last mile. I decided to try to break away from this young runner on that climb, if I didn’t I knew that she would blow by me on the last downhill right before the relay zone and I would finish behind her.

So at the hill I made my move. After about ten steps up the hill at our pace, I increased my step rotation and before she could respond, I had opened a lead that kept growing as we went up the hill. I had surprise her and she wasn’t ready to make a move. As we crested the hill, I knew I had to keep the hard pace. And just about that moment, the rain which had been a drizzle decided to really start coming down hard. The road was slick and I was pushing downhill. There was a sharp bend about 100 yards down the hill at a very steep point. I felt my left knee stretched as I came around the bend, but my concentration was on not sliding on the wet pavement. I knew instantly that I had over extended the knee joint, and that I was going to pay for that mistake the next time I ran which was about 11 hours away on South Mountain.

The final mile marker came into view a few steps from the next small rise, and then it was a finally downhill push to the relay area. The rain that had been a drizzle in the morning, now was a serious downpour keeping rhythm to my steps. A quick staccato of foot strikes and patter of rain, the tree line road became a tunnel of wet blacktop and brown barked trees and green canopy. My heart raced in my chest as I saw the finally turn. The voice in my head repeated its command, “Stand tall, keep form, and push.” My body responded. Then in my ear, I heard the young lady coming. Her steps haunted down the hill into the final curve. “Don’t look back, focus on the finish,” the voice commanded. And I executed.

Driving my body forward for the finish of the last of the 6 mile section, I lifted the slap bracelet from my wrist and straighten it out. Now 50 yards remained, then 25 yards then the first flag and chute, the young runner I was passing off cheered me those last few feet, as I slapped the bracelet onto her wrist. She was off with a quick look back. I slowed to a walk, and then felt a hand on my back and the windy voice of the young lady behind me. “I thought I could catch you, but you took off on me…how did you do that?” I smiled back and shrugged my shoulders, “Just didn’t want to be caught by you.”

Summer Running

Sunday morning at 5, a friend and I headed down the C&O for a easy run of 19 miles.  The easy part was starting, the hard part continuing...after all it was like 80 degrees and 90% humidity.  I found myself several times because of the heat wanting to turn around and head back to the car, but because of my commitment to run with this friend his first 19 mile run...I didn't.  We just kept moving down the trail, finally after about 2 hours, we made the turn and headed back up the canal. Yes, we ran down river for the first 9.5 miles and as we headed back up the humidity broke.  The temperature continued to climb but the run actually became a pleasure.  As we headed back up the path, my friend noticed a waterfall that I had never seen before and I've run this path several times.  Finally after another two hours of running we reached the end...and I was so glad we did.  The temperature had reached into the 90s and the Heat Index had topped the 100 degree mark.

So why did we do it?  Friendship.  Loyalty.  Companionship...all these things.  We suffered through the long hot run, and in the process, we learned a little more about each other.  That's what challenges do.  They help us grow in appreciation of others.  My friend who pointed out the waterfall...had never run this trail before, but now, I'll never forget...and every time I run past the waterfall again...I thinking of Ron....and how he toughed it out and did his first 19 mile run on the C&O on a day that was over 100 degrees.

Week Off

I really wish I could say I have had a great week off from running...but the truth...no I've missed it. My right ankle is still recovering from the 50K last week and I know given my schedule for the year, I need it to heal. I noticed back on Wednesday and now every day since...whenever I pass a runner...I find myself wanting to be out there, too.

This past week, I have been extremely busy with work, and so this time off from running has allowed me the time I needed to finish a few projects I've been working on. As it says in the Bible...there is a time to work and a time to play. I just want to get out and play...and next week, I'll do just that...and I'll start working on preparing for the next challenge, my Fall Marathons. Until then, go out easy, have fun and keep the desire to run.

Don Quixote and the North Face Endurance Challenge 50K

As I ran along the Potomac River, up and down the bluff and through the woods and fields that made up the 50K course of the North Face Endurance Challenge, I found myself observing the other runners around me. They were wonderful people. All were attempting to conquer something that was deeply personal.

For me, I learned the lesson, once again that I had to trust God…and in my pain rise once again and continue to the end. That happened around mile 27. I had completed a fairly easy section of the course that ran along side the river when I entered a very rock area. The trail I was running along came to a point where you had the steep bluff wall on your left a small ledge to run along with about 2 feet drop to the rocks on the right. My legs were dead and I was totally spent. I was thinking about the next climb of about 600 yards that would be the last major climb of the race. Not something I should have been thinking about…but your mind tends to wander as you run. The next thing I felt was a rock under my right foot and the twisting of my ankle. The pain shot up through my body like lightning and I felt my body tumble forward into the rocks in front of me. Slamming my body to the ground and knocking all the air out of me. I tried to roll over to but rocks all around me made it almost physically impossible. I lay there thinking it was all over. I didn’t have the strength to move.

I again pushed up with my arms and still had trouble trying to rise. Then I heard the voice of another runner asking me if I was all right. His hand touched my arm and he helped me to my feet. I said I was good and my name less aid headed down the path, I following. I willed my body forward. My fellow runner who stopped and helped me to my feet gave me a wonderful gift. He gave me hope and a chance to finish the race before me.

Later that evening while attending my eldest daughter’s play, I found myself on the verge of tears. The play was a retelling of the story of Don Quixote. And as you all know in the end Don Quixote dies with Sancho Panza and Aldonza (Dulcinea) at his side urging him to live. And so it ends with Alonzo Quexana rising from his bed as Don Quixote ready to fight evil until his death. At that moment, I too realize what I conquered that morning in the race. As I stood up after that fall, I went on to finish the toughest race of my life. But I finished it because God sent a runner to give me a hand up when I needed it the most. He was my Sancho Panza…and he helped me fight to the very end.