Blessed Endurance

Let the Cleanse Begin

2011-11-02T14:47:00.009-04:00

After having a “Lundi Gras” on Monday involving a trip to Pizza Hut with a client followed by a good-sized serving of Halloween candy, I have officially begun the 21-day cleanse. It has been a good first day so far. I am learning a few important things:
1. This is going to take a lot more time and planning than I anticipated. Preparing this many raw vegetables is not an instant task. So far today I have made green juice, hummus, a salad, and tomato wild rice soup and have dirtied almost every major appliance in my kitchen including the juicer (thank you, Mary Jo--this thing rocks!!), the blender, and the food processor, all of which have numerous small parts that require attention after use. Thankfully, Charles and I are on this adventure together and he is a very good kitchen cleaner-upper.
2. I like green juice. This morning was my best creation yet. It included a cucumber, celery, romaine, kale, an apple, and a bit of ginger root. Yum! It doesn’t upset my stomach, keeps me fairly full for a bit, and just feels like I’m drinking health into my body. I know, some of you are reading this thinking “yeah right, not drinking vegetables for breakfast.” Try it—you might change your mind!
3. I feel more consistent throughout the day when I don’t eat sugar. I don’t think I really eat that much sugar even when not on a “cleanse,” but it’s enough to notice mood swings from what I eat and drink. My chai with honey and milk usually keeps me pretty happy in the morning but then I get a bad case of the grumps until I get lunch. Plus I’m always so jittery after all that caffeine and sugar that I start to feel crazy until I get more food.
4. There is no way I could ever do this to myself while Ironman training. There are not enough vegetables and gluten free grains in the world to support that kind of hunger. I still do not comprehend how people are vegan and burn 4000+ calories in a day. Thankfully, due to some nagging pain in my right foot, exercise is being kept to a minimum these days and therefore my metabolism seems to have chilled out.
That’s all I’ve got for now. I do have some fun pictures to post about this adventure!

Charles enjoying our last steak for a bit. Munch thought it looked good too! (he was asked to leave the table shortly after this exchange)

I usually buy lots of veggies but I've never had this many in my cart at once! The lady at the checkout was like, "so you like cucumbers..." (we had six)

Loving the juicer! Going to have to get my own.

Yum!

Preparing to Cleanse

2011-10-25T20:57:00.005-04:00

I’m having a difficult time trying to figure out how to start a blog after not posting anything for months, so I’ll just begin by admitting that and moving on from there. It has been a crazy year. Actually, scratch that, it has been crazy since we moved away from Mississippi in August 2009, so crazy that we have all but forgotten our blog that we used to enjoy updating regularly. I have decided it is time to change that. In fact, I have decided it is time to change many things about the way I have been living my life, especially since we moved to Virginia and life got really confusing.

To explain the confusing part, let me give an overview of the last 2+ years. Here goes: Decide we want to move to VA. Start looking for jobs. State adamantly that I WILL NOT work in community mental health. Cannot find any jobs in higher education due to hiring freeze at all state schools (it’s early 2009 and the economy isn’t doing great…) Shadow a therapist doing equine therapy. Get excited about using horses therapeutically as I reflect on how therapeutic my own relationships with Joey and Oliver (my ponies) were when I was growing up. Decide that perhaps community mental health is the best way to get hours to get licensed so I can do equine therapy. Talk to Brian, my former RTS Admissions Office boss, who encourages me at least to try therapy so I don’t spend the rest of my life regretting my decision not to pursue it since I am still waffling at this point.

Interview for intensive in home job with Charles in June 2009. Charles get hired. I do not. We move anyway with the hope that I will get a job doing in home at another branch of the agency. My cat, whom we’ve had since I was 11, dies three days after we move here (not the best week of my life). I interview for the in home job at the other location. I am told that intakes are down and there’s actually no position open. Try again. Work for Kaplan for several months. Finally get offered in home job and begin in December 2009. Get a cat who adds joy, vet bills, and many dismembered rodents to our life.

Agency gets audited and fined $3.6 million. All hell breaks loose. Medicaid cuts reimbursement rate by $10/hour. Agency takes away our mileage reimbursement and Charles and I each take an additional 18% pay cut, about $1500 less per month than we thought we would make. Life is looking really good. Mild panic ensues. Why the heck did we move here for these jobs?! Continue working for agency anyway. Apply and interview for other positions in the area, none of which will be a good fit. Go visit Jackson by myself to get away for a week. Get explosive food poisoning but otherwise enjoy the trip. Feel very sad about coming back to VA. Pick up more work through Kaplan because I am so miserable doing in home. Go to horse therapy training. Get more excited and goal-oriented. Complete half-ironman with Charles. Things are looking up.

Strain my hamstring and cannot run for 3+ months. Bummer. Recover and begin Ironman Louisville training in February 2011. Finally decide that perhaps I like doing in home and may not actually be messing up my families as much as I originally feared.

Go to Jackson again, this time with Charles. Cry a lot. Remember all the reasons why I loved Mississippi. Have a really hard time transitioning back to VA. Start to suspect something is going on with our agency. Get news end of June 2011 that the agency will file bankruptcy and close on July 31. Awesome. We will both be without jobs in about a month. Good thing we signed up for an individual health insurance policy last December. Really good thing that we just put $2000+ on the credit card to pay for the class we’re about to start. Really, really good thing we just signed another year lease.

Full blown panic. I spend a frantic week applying for whatever I can find. We start getting crazy ideas like “let’s just leave the country and live overseas for awhile.” Less than a week after the “you’re losing your job” email, we find out another agency wants to buy us. So we still have jobs? Maybe. Skepticism is high. New agency seems pretty cool. Get offered job. Accept job. Accept new responsibilities including being a supervisor and intake coordinator. Go from working about 10 hours a week to 12 hour days. Whew. Thankfully we begin our taper to prepare for Ironman Louisville. Complete the Ironman and have a perfect weekend in Louisville (perhaps more on this in another post). Life is really good. Fly around on Ironman high for a few weeks. Get so excited that we sign up for Ironman Wisconsin for September 2012.

Go to 10 year high school reunion. Backpack and hike with Charles. Start horseback riding again. Enjoy the lovely fall weather. Get iPhone!! (More on why that’s relevant in a second.) Continue at frantic pace but at least feel more settled and secure in some ways.

That about brings us up to the present. Life is good, mostly. I am still lonely. I still miss Jackson. I think it may be getting better. Or maybe I’m just too busy to think about it anymore.

Back to the iPhone and why that’s relevant to all this. I went with my supervisor, Gretchen, to get the new phone a few weeks ago. While waiting at the store, I was telling her about a 21-day cleanse and Charles and I are planning to start November 1st, and Gretchen, never one to miss an opportunity for supervision, asked, “Do you ever have a time where you’re not working toward some goal?” To which I replied, “No.” Without missing a beat, she responded, “That can be your new theme then: Slow Down and Be With What Is.”

(Note: For supervision, all of our families have themes that describe how we’re working to overcome their dysfunctional patterns. This brings focus to our work. As clinician we also have themes that describe how we’re working to overcome our own dysfunctional patterns in order to grow as therapists.)

I thought this a funny conversation to be having at the Verizon store, but I knew she was on to something. I don’t slow down. Therefore, I am rarely fully present. I always have a to-do list running through my head. I have to-do lists written all over my planner. I add things to my to-do list even after I’ve completed them just so I can cross them off and feel more productive. I am reliable, efficient, and attentive to every detail, and constantly reinforced for these qualities, but I drive myself and others crazy. I am always anticipating the next thing, planning for it, worrying about it, sometimes just hoping it will hurry up and get here or be over depending on what kind of thing it is. I often have a “life will be so much better when…” mentality rather than opening my eyes to see what is going on right now. I know this impacts not only my therapeutic relationships but also my friendships and my marriage. I know one day it will impact my relationship with my children. I would like to learn how to slow down and be present with what is.

That brings me back to the 21-day cleanse I mentioned earlier which is taken from the book Crazy Sexy Diet by Kris Carr for those of you who are wondering. Despite the fact that this is, in fact, another goal, I am going to do it and use it as a way to focus on my theme: slow down and be with what is. Usually when I set goals, I focus so much on getting to the end result that I miss the process of getting there. This cleanse is all about the process—the process of slowing down and paying attention, of checking in with my body again, of being mindful about what and how I am doing so that I can be more present with myself and also with others. I am not doing it to be “healthy” or to become vegan. I fully intend to add dairy and meat and alcohol and other “bad-for-me-foods” back into my diet. I truly am just interested in the process of doing something different intentionally.

From November 1-21, I am going to be mindful of what I eat, and in forcing myself to slow down in this area, I hope to be more mindful of what is going on in the rest of my life. I’m going to be nice to my body physically by feeding it nutritious meals rather than grabbing whatever I can find while on the run and eating it while standing, walking, talking on the phone, or driving between clients. And I want to learn to be nicer to myself emotionally because I am discovering that I am just downright mean to myself. I live in fear and try to motivate myself through shame. I do not treat myself with much respect. It is not very nice.

I’m posting all this because I want to write more during this cleanse as a way to make me stop and process what is going on. I’m going to try to post several times a week even if it is just about new recipes or sugar withdrawal or the distress the diet of so many raw vegetables is causing to my digestive system. I used to journal all the time, to the point that I would complete at least a journal a year. I opened my journal the other day and realized that I started writing in it in September 2006 and still haven’t run out of pages! This feels like a problem. Apparently, I have not slowed down in awhile. It is time for a change.

Rest Day ReWind: When in doubt, leave it out

2011-02-28T17:07:00.003-05:00

Nicki and I have modeled our training for Ironman Louisville after the guidance of Joe Friel and Don Fink, who wrote the Triathlete’s Training Bible and Be IronFit, respectively. Both have decades of experience in competition and coaching, and we highly recommend the reading for triathletes of any level.

One of the common tenets that both authors preach is “When in doubt, leave it out.” Essentially that means that training for triathlon, especially the Iron distance, requires a concerted, planned training attack, and there are very few workouts that can be missed for optimal success. However, make sure to listen to your body. It is better to stop when you notice fatigue in order to allow your body to recover enough to continue rather than to ignore the signs of fatigue or injury, keep going, and then really mess things up.

I resolved as I began my training four weeks ago that when in doubt, I’d leave it out. I just didn’t expect to have doubts so soon. As I’m writing this entry (Sunday), I’m currently fighting the urge to go out and do my 60-minute Zone1 to 2 run scheduled for today. But I’ve been laid up since Saturday, when I started to feel chills 45 minutes into a 90 minute Zone 2 bike ride. By the time we got home, I was shivering badly — there was a sub-40 wind chill after all. When I took my temperature, I discovered I had a 100.2-degree fever. I took a hot shower, got in bed and slept for a few hours.

Did I mention that Saturday was my 31st birthday? We cancelled dinner plans, ate leftovers, watched six episodes of Arrested Development Season 2, and I went to bed at 9:15 p.m. I’m a real party animal, I know. After another 11 hours of sleep, I’m feeling better today. I skipped church, but I did laundry and made some adjustments to my bike. No fever, no nausea, no upset stomach. I’ll probably take another nap after lunch.

But I really want to go run. I mean, what could it hurt? Well, that’s the thing. I don’t know. I’m feeling better, and the weather is warmer, but raising my heart rate for a significant amount of time could derail my recovery from whatever mild illness I had. Honestly, I was probably just fatigued. The feverishness was reminiscent of times when I was in college when I would get sick during finals. If I made sure to get serious sleep shortly thereafter, I was as good as new. Work has been really draining, especially last week. I’m taking a grad-level course at James Madison University, which had a paper due last Wednesday and a mid-term next week, and I’m conjuring up ideas about how to raise money for Journey Counseling Ministries. All that on top of my first four weeks of Ironman training, the most ambitious athletic goal I’ve ever set.

Now I’m tired again.

You might say I need more tortoise and less hare. I’ve been getting warning signs all week. A Journey board member. A good friend. Both telling me they fear I’m going to burn myself out before I get anywhere. I’m so consumed and in such a hurry to get established professionally that I forget to take care of myself and listen to my body and heart.

It is for this concept of slowing down to a more sustainable effort that I picked up endurance sports in the first place. Focus more on the process than the finish line. Cooperate rather than compete. Know your own limits and swim, bike, run, work love, play within them.

Monday starts another week, and I’ll head into this one well rested and with the understanding that I’m only as established as I can be. No more, no less. I don’t have to know it all; I don’t have to have it all. The truth is that I don’t. Far from it. That frame of mind is a more sustainable place from which to come.

I'm Official

2011-02-19T18:16:00.008-05:00

Well, Charles-the-Bottomless-Pit is back with a vengeance. After just three weeks of training, he just can’t get full. He hovers around the cabinets and refrigerator searching for something, anything. So, as a good enmeshed wife who feels better about herself when hubby is well-fed and full (am I paying attention to my own Boundaries Sunday School class?!), this renewed hunger has prompted me to explore some new dinner options. I also included “cook one new meal every month” as a New Year’s Goal for myself, along with “finish Ironman Louisville.”

After four years of marriage, I have gotten stuck in a rut of cooking the same things over and over and over…Not that this is a huge deal since Charles-the-Bottomless-Pit will pretty much eat anything and has only complained once about something I made in four years. That was when I added brussel sprouts to a meal. The next day he kindly and tentatively said something to the effect of “you know how you added brussel sprouts last night? Could we not have that again?” And we haven’t. I knew that was asking a lot of him, especially in our first year of marriage. Other than that, he has no problem with eating homemade pizza, lasagne, tortilla soup, chili, chicken tetrazzini, and spaghetti on repeat. We actually really enjoy our weekly routine of making pizza together. But it is time to branch out, I think.

This brings me to my creation last night. But before that, I have to go back two weeks ago when we first went out to Polyface Farm after watching the movie Food, Inc. If you’ve ever wondered where your grocery store meat comes from and you’d like to continue buying that grocery store meat, then don’t watch this movie because I’m not sure I’ll be able to buy grocery store meat anymore. Actually, after I finished the movie I was pretty sure I’d never eat meat again. Then I ate my homemade pepperoni pizza and that plan went out the window. However, I would like to make more of an effort to buy locally. Perhaps I’ll add that to the New Year’s Goals.

So we went out to Polyface, bought some stew beef, ground beef, a whole chicken, and some pork sausage. Though the meat definitely costs more than Walmart, the difference is incredible. I used the sausage to make an amazing 13 Bean and Sausage Chowder last week. Tomorrow I’m making beef stew with the stew beef. And last night I made this:

I told Charles this feels like some sort of rite of passage to become a real wife. So now, four years in, I’m official. I cooked a whole bird. It was not nearly as scary as I anticipated, and, as my mom said, “it’s the easiest meal ever. You put it in the oven and don’t do anything to it for 2 hours!” Yum. Charles even said he was full after he finished. Success.

Less is More

2011-02-11T17:58:00.007-05:00

Nothing compares to running. Long bike rides are satisfying, hard swim workouts leave me refreshed, but nothing provides that “runner’s high” unique to running. I especially love it on cold mornings for some crazy reason. My car thermometer read 16 degrees when I left to drive to the Lee High School track at 7am this morning. And it was exhilarating—running through clouds of my breath, feeling the warmth of my body (once I warmed up!) in contrast to the freezing air outside, inhaling deep breaths of that frosty air into my lungs…I am convinced that the endorphin fix that I experience from running can be as powerful as any drug. And because, until this week, I have not actually run since the 6 miles I did on October 24th, my body has been experiencing some intensely painful withdrawal symptoms these last 3+ months.

Running and I have had a tumultuous relationship from the start. I think some people have genetics on their side when it comes to running; I do not. I do not come from a family of runners. I can remember having frequent injuries as far back as middle school track. Back then it was irritation in my achilles. In high school I had painful tendonitis on the back of my knee, probably from running ridiculous numbers of stair repeats during indoor track season in our 3 story school on concrete floors. Later in high school and into college I had a perpetual case of shin splints and pain that occasionally felt like a stress fracture in my shin. When I trained for my first marathon in 2004, I had all kinds of knee trouble and ended up getting a “J brace” to help push my right knee cap back into place because it was rubbing on the bone on the side. I went to shoe fitters, sports med doctors, physical therapists, runner friends who could offer advice…I bought different shoes, ankle supports, 3 different knee braces, various shoe inserts…all in an attempt to run injury free, all because the drug of running is so addictive. I moved to Jackson, started doing more cross training like swimming and cycling, and miraculously, I had about 3 years of injury free running. It was amazing. I did speed work, I got faster and stronger, and I began to believe that I am a runner after all.

Then we moved to Staunton, the hilliest place on the face of the earth. And my joints and tendons went into open rebellion.

I have been injured pretty much since we moved here. First it was my right hip flexor, probably a result of the strain from running down these steep hills. I decreased intensity and reduced mileage, and that eventually got better. Then the outside of my right ankle was killing me, probably from the uneven terrain of the trails at Montgomery Hall Park. So I stopped trail running, and it felt better. But then my right knee started hurting with a pain I had never experienced. It began after a 6 mile run up and down the hills at Charles’s parents’ house on Christmas Day 2009. Something inside me knew that course was a bad idea, but we were all stir crazy, so I went anyway. I think that was the beginning of the end.

The insane amount of snow we got last winter prevented us from riding our bikes outside for several months, so in an effort to combat our ever-increasing self-diagnosed Seasonal Affective Disorder, Charles and I decided to begin training for the Charlottesville Marathon. We also signed up for the Charlottesville 10 miler. My knee never felt 100% on our long runs, and eventually I had to come to terms with the reality that I was injured beyond what I could just “run through” as I had with so many previous injuries. I began physical therapy in March and learned more than I ever wanted to know about all the weird imbalances I have. I also learned that the problem was not my knee but all the muscles and tendons around it. It then occurred to me that the horseshoe shaped hole in my right quad from when I got kicked in 8th grade may be a big part of why I have so many problems on my right side. Who knew?!

Looking back, I made all kinds of mistakes last spring and summer that combined to force me to take 3+ months completely off from running recently. I acknowledged my injury and made some attempt to heal by going to PT, but I never took time off to rest. I thought the Charlottesville 10 miler was so important that I wasn’t going to let anything stop me from running it, not even the fact that in the months leading up to it, I ran 10 miles on January 23rd and then did not run more than 5 miles until the race on April 3rd, some weeks without running at all. Then I blew through 10 miles in 1:19:59, my fastest 10 miler time yet. Felt satisfying at the time. And I have regretted that decision ever since.

My big race of the season was the Patriot’s Half which wasn’t until SEPTEMBER. I look back now and just wonder what I was thinking! The 10 miler was so inconsequential to the rest of the season, yet it ended up dictating my ability to train all year and even now. I ran with on and off pain throughout 2010 until late October, after 2 half ironman races within 3 weeks (another one of those “what was I thinking” decisions), when I decided this was crazy and I chose to stop running altogether. It was a difficult decision but perhaps the best one I’ve made in all the years I have been running.

Now I am back to square one physically, but I am realizing it is a good place to be. Of course getting to this place took many tears and angry, childish outbursts, but I am now better prepared to take care of my body this year. My big race is not until August 28th. There is no need to rush into training only to be injured again. With the incredible support of Charles, I took two full weeks off completely in January after several weeks of already decreased exercise. Once my hamstring and lower leg pain was completely gone, I eased back into some swimming and cycling. Last Sunday I tried running again, just four 400s on the rubberized track with 400m of walking in between each. Today I tried four 800s, again with walking in between each. Perhaps in the next few weeks I will try to run an entire mile continuously. This is requiring a tremendous amount of self-control!

Right now I am often completely overwhelmed by the idea of finishing the entire Ironman in August at this rate, but in some ways, if I am able to do it, this experience will make it feel like even more of an accomplishment and a journey toward personal growth. I want to get out of the typical triathlete trap of "more is more" and "if I take time off, I'll never get my fitness back." The sport of triathlon attracted me not only because swimbikerun is fun, but because I recognize so many parallels between the sport and real life. I am excited to discover what life lessons my training this year will teach me.

RestDay ReWind: Where I come from

2011-02-08T16:50:00.006-05:00

Let me tell you a little about where I'm coming from with this whole Ironman for Journey idea.

I am coming from parents and a family that values service.

The latest example comes from Dad. This past Saturday Dad was spending his weekend like he often does, on a day hike through the North Georgia mountains with a local trail club. This particular outing involved a loop that connected Lake Winfield Scott and Blood Mountain and included some distance on the Appalachian Trail. At 58, he was one of the younger group members, but it was a healthy, outside-loving bunch, and none doubted that any of them could handle the challenging 7.5 miles.

Dad called me on Sunday to tell me that after the group had stopped for lunch, about half way through the hike and at the height of their elevation gain, he and another guy, a former football coach from Washington, Ga., who was walking directly behind him in line, were joking about the cold. The man said he thought his thermometer on his backpack was lying because it was reading 40 degrees and there was just no way that was true. Dad continued to chuckle as he turned to face forward.

The laughing stopped when Dad heard a thud behind him. He turned around to find this man, who he'd met just that morning, had fallen and was rolling off the trail. When Dad and others reached him, he was unconscious but breathing. The group couldn't find a pulse.

Keep in mind, the fallen man had walked the current path the previous Thursday with the trip leader just to do recon and had completed it without issue. When he hit the ground, it was a total surprise. The trip leader called the man's wife to alert her of what was going on. Dad called 911, and worked with another group member to administer CPR while another group member with nursing experience tried to awaken the man. They never revived him.

The perimedics had been dispatched from Blairsville, which is about 15 miles from Blood Mountain. Still, it took EMTs nearly 90 minutes to arrive, largely due to the 3-plus-mile hike in from the road carrying rescue equipment. When they arrived, they asked how long Dad and others had been doing CPR. When they replied that it had been more than an hour, the EMTs directed them to stop, and they called the time of death.

Dad was heartbroken. The trip leader was so stricken he couldn't bring himself to call the man's wife to deliver the news. When no one else stepped up, Dad did it.

I'm proud of my Dad. He was prepared and he cared.

"What a way to go," Dad told me. Better out in the woods doing what you love than the slow death of complacency. But I think Dad was just trying to soften the blow. He wanted that man to live, because Dad values life.

I love sharing my life with him and the rest of my family. He and Mom are going to be with Nicki and me in Louisville. I can't wait to see them along the course and at the finish line. When I think about it on training runs I have to stop because I start running too fast.

Reckon I just get too darn excited.

My training week: 02/07/2011
Metrics — Weight: 161.0 lbs. Body fat: 17.0 percent. Resting heart rate: 55 bpm.
M — Off
T — Swim (300m wu, 8x50m drills, 16x25m @ 10 seconds, 1x400 @ 60 seconds, 16x25 @ 10 seconds, 8x50m drills, 200m cd); Run (30 min.)
W — Bike 30 min, Z2 (QC); run 15 min Z2
R — Swim (300m wu, 8x50m drills, 3x125m @20 sec, 2x175 @ 30sec, 3x125 @20 sec, 8x50 drills, 200 cd); bike 30 min, 100 rmp, Z1
F — Run 30 min Z2
Sa — Bike 1 hour, Z2
Su — Run 45 min Z1-2.
Key — Z = heart rate zone, wu= warmup, cd=cool down

The plan is that he and Mom will be in Louisville for the race.

The Ironman Dream

2011-01-30T17:58:00.005-05:00

Last night I dreamed about Ironman Louisville.

There was a river, and there was a bridge. I was on the run, step-by-step working to complete the 26.2-mile marathon after having completed the 2.4-mile swim in the Ohio River and the 112-mile bike ride through the Kentucky countryside. I felt good, but it was early. I woke up before the finish line. So the Ironman dream, today, remains a dream.

Tomorrow I will take the next step in making that dream a reality. When I hit the pool, probably at some God-forsaken hour of the morning, it will mark my first strokes in what will be 30 weeks of preparation for the race on August 28.

Nicki and I signed up last October. We had been on a hike and ran into a guy on the trail who was wearing and M-Dot shirt. He had just finished Louisville, his first 140.6-mile triathlon, and he raved about the experience. Nicki had just completed her second 70.3-distance race of 2010, and I had finished my first 70.3 the previous month. (You may have read about that experience here ...) We had some extra cash in the bank, and within a day or two, we added ourselves to the participant list.

In the months since, the anticipation has grown and grown. I have dreamed about hearing the announcer say, “Charles Shepard of Staunton, Virginia, you are an Ironman,” as I cross the finish line, getting a finisher’s tattoo, being in the best shape of my life. I have also considered what a selfish endeavor training and competing in an Ironman triathlon can be. After all, I will spend more than 450 hours in training during the next six-plus months. Do the math: It doesn’t leave much time for paying attention to other people. And while Nicki and I hope to train together as much as possible (more on what may prevent that later), the reality is I’m about to increase the time I spend paying attention to myself.

With that in mind, I have decided to dedicate my training and competition to a higher purpose. As training begins, I will launch simultaneously a campaign to build the Client Assistance Fund for the family therapy non-profit for which I work, Journey Counseling Ministries. The CAF is used to off-set the cost of family therapy for those in the Shenandoah Valley who cannot afford between $65 and $85 per session. If you read this blog regularly, don’t be surprised if you receive a letter in the mail asking you to join me in the campaign.

I made this choice because, while I dream about crossing an Ironman race off my bucket list, I more often dream about helping families discover redeeming, lasting change.

In this space, on Mondays during my training, I will post an off-day rewind. I’ll update you on my training, but more importantly, I’ll be letting you in on the greater purpose. Topics may range from success stories, to family-related issues, to connecting endurance training and experience to the Christian life and the Gospel experience.

I hope you’ll come back and read. I hope you’ll join the discussion. I hope you’ll commit to pray for me on my journey and for families in need as they live life in a fallen world. I hope you’ll consider sponsoring the mission. Would you consider donating $1 per race mile? Right now, just consider it.

Openness comes before inspiration.

My training week: 01/31/2011
Metrics — Weight: 162.2 lbs. Body fat: 16.6 percent. Resting heart rate: 56 bpm.
M — Off
T — Swim (300m wu, 8x50m drills, 12x100m @ 20 seconds, 8x50m drills, 200m cd); Run (30 min.)
W — Bike 30 min, Z2 (QC); run 15 min Z2
R — Swim (300m wu, 8x50m drills, 3x125m @20 sec, 2x175 @ 30sec, 3x125 @20 sec, 8x50 drills, 200 cd); bike 30 min, 100 rmp, Z1
F — Run 30 min Z2
Sa — Bike 1 hour, Z2
Su — Run 45 min Z1-2.
Key — Z = heart rate zone, wu= warmup, cd=cool down

Adventures with Blossom & Lewmie: Emergency vet edition

2010-11-21T22:10:00.007-05:00

FISHERSVILLE, VERONA and BLACKSBURG, Va. — Woodrow may be a very small animal, but his veterinary bills are not.

When we welcomed the cat into our family at the beginning of the year, I knew there would be risks including four-figure medical services, but I willed them out of my mind and shunned any anxieties in favor of Nicki’s happiness. That choice was tested to the extreme last weekend during a whirlwind trip through three vets in three different towns and more than 300 miles of driving. In the end, our savings was more than $1,300 lighter and we were no closer to a diagnosis than when we started.

Small Munch did get a nice haircut out of the deal, however.

On Thursday, the smallest one began to vomit, and he didn’t stop until early Saturday morning. At first, the puke was recognizable — chunks of his “savory shreds” and “indoor delights”. This kind of thing had happened before; Woodrow had made a visit to our family vet earlier this year for vomiting when we discovered that he was severely constipated due in large part to dehydration combined with copious amounts of dry food. Hence the start of his wet “savory shreds” diet supplemented with his crunchy snacks. During that visit, X-rays clearly showed a quarry-full of poop boulders backed up almost to his esophagus. This time around, any blockages were much less apparent in the films. So more than $300 went on the credit card, and we went home with a large pillow of subcutaneous fluid implanted in the Very Small Munch’s right shoulder and the recommendation take him to the emergency vet if the vomiting continued into the weekend.

Woodrow kept puking, and Nicki started to panic. By late Friday, savory shreds had transitioned into a pinkish liquid that smelled like souring garbage. Initially, we feared it was a mixture of stomach acid and blood, his stomach clearly empty because he hadn’t eaten anything in more than 36 hours. But then the substance turned brown. God only knows what that stuff was; we at least knew it was reason for concern.

Saturday morning, he continued to deteriorate, as did Nicki’s nerve. She came downstairs first to retrieve him from the bathroom — where he had slept so he could vomit on the tile floor and not on our bed — and quickly began to cry. The subcu fluids had been partially absorbed by VSM’s body. What his bloodstream had not yet taken up had floated down his right leg. The fluid-filled balloon must have put pressure on his skin, muscles and bones, because he was walking gingerly out of the bathroom. Nicki thought he had broken his leg, possibly from falling out of the sink, where he likes to sleep. To her credit, his leg was pretty deformed. On top of that, it was clear he was in bad shape, and any latent emotions from the loss of Snowy, Nicki’s childhood cat, less than 14 months prior, came to the fore. The cat was in bad shape, and so was his loving mama.

The emergency vet didn’t open its doors until noon; by then the Munchball was curled up under the guest bed, out of our reach, shivering, and nearly catatonic. When we finally coaxed him out of his hiding place, he was walking very gingerly and moaning when we tried to handle him. He urinated on our bed, the first time he’s ever done anything like that outside of his litter box. All plans for the day went out the window as we prepared for a trip up the road to a new doctor.

Whatever skill Dr. Hall had in examining our small animal, he lacked in his exam-table manner. Well, at least to this husband’s discerning emotional palate. But to his credit, he told us the truth, as best he knew it. X-rays were still inconclusive. His symptoms belied a gastrointestinal blockage of some sort, but whatever it was, he couldn’t see it or feel it. Our options were to continue diagnostics with at least one of the following: an ultrasound, a barium series plus more X-rays, or surgery, starting with the least invasive. Surgery, of course, meant cutting Woodrow open with no guarantee that 1.) They’d discover what was wrong and 2.) He would survive. The barium series would increase the effectiveness of X-rays, but could 1.) Be spat out, along with the high cost, on the floor, 2.) Still not tell us anything or 3.) Leak into his bloodstream and kill him in the case that any digestive organs had been perforated by this mythical blockage. The ultrasound carried the least risk of death, but was available to us only at the state vet school on the campus of Virginia Tech, more than 100 miles away in Blacksburg.

After drying more tears and shelling out another $400 for speculation, we loaded up and drove an increasingly irritated cat to the Blackhole (Wahoo Wah!).

Despite being home to worshiped turkeys and gray gothic buildings, things began to brighten at Virginia Tech. Jay and Linda Muscatello, the lovely dad and step-mom of our good friend Rebecca Evans, opened their home on short notice and late hour to give us a place to sleep after dropping the cat off at 9:30 p.m. While we waited for word from the vet on Sunday, we had brunch and watched football with fellow RTS MFT alum Glen Hollingsworth. At Tech to pursue his Ph.D. in Marriage and Family Therapy, Glen graduated from RTS a year ahead of Nicki, and bears a striking resemblance to another Mississippi buddy of ours, Matt “Towtruck” Tyrone. We got some good food out of the deal — Gillie’s for brunch and Bull and Bones for dinner.

While the ultrasound didn’t bring us any closer to conclusiveness, the vets and vet students at Tech were able to rule out surgery as a necessity, which probably saved us at least another $2,000 and more anxiety. They gave us some antibiotics — just in case this whole thing was caused by an infection of some sort — and sent us home.

We spent another $600 on speculation, but they paid for it, too. Apparently, Woodrow had become so tied of being “manipulated” that the vets reported he was very aggressive and had to be sedated more than any cat they have worked with just to do routine checks on him. Poor Dr. Waterman, a kind, clearly spoken woman, said she bled a lot working with our VSM. Sorry about that.

We came home late Sunday, and Woodrow continued to perk up. He hadn’t vomited for close to 36 hours, and Monday he was regaining a bit of a pounce in his step. I don’t remember if it was Monday or Tuesday, but he did finally poop. I was blessed to be there for the occasion. You see, Woodrow and I share the boys’ bathroom downstairs. I was just going through my morning routine — breakfast, coffee, poop — and SmallMunch decided to follow my lead (except for the coffee, of course). As I sat on my throne, he entered his box, moved some sand around, and then moved his bowels. The first turd must have been impacted because it looked like a dark brown bone. We celebrated with the hope of encouraging more of this behavior. If it works, it happens again, right?

Nicki, who has agreed to handle all defecation-related duties unless she is pregnant, had instructions to examine his stool for any foreign bodies. She scooped the poop, put it in a freezer bag and smashed it. Along with discovering a “lovely smell”, Nicki uncovered a chunk of black, rubberized foam about two fingers’ width in size. I’d venture to say that’s our blockage.

If you knew anything about this cat before this post, you knew he likes to eat the inedible. In the last year, he’s eaten a range of items from doorstoppers to a hole in the knee of my wetsuit.

Among those items, he took a fancy to gnawing an old pair of sandals I got in a swag bag at a marathon I ran in 2007. They were free at the time. Now they’re the most expensive pair of shoes I’ve ever owned.

USAT Long Course Nats results are in ...

2010-10-02T17:42:00.003-04:00

WILMINGTON, N.C. — Who Nicki is far outshines who she isn't.

That is to say, Nicki is not an ITU Long Course World Championships qualifier. She finished in 4 hours, 56 minutes, 10 seconds earlier today over a 56-mile bike course and a 13.1-mile run. The 1.2-mile swim was cancelled. Her time was good enough for 30th in the women's 25-29 age group. She needed to be top 20 to earn a spot on Team USA for the 2011 worlds, which will be held in Las Vegas.

But nevermind that. Nicki is a two-time half-iron distance finisher, and she accomplished that feat within the last month. She has placed in her age group or otherwise in 18 of her past 20 races. Until today, Nicki had placed in all of her previous triathlons, a run of eight straight. That's quite a start to a career.

Most of all, Nicki is a woman who doesn't give up. She is dedicated to the things and people who are fortunate enough to have captured her heart. I count myself among the fortunate.

USAT LIVE: Finished ... sort of

2010-10-02T13:26:00.004-04:00

MYRTLE BEACH, S.C. — Nicki has crossed the line. Raw time was 5 hours, 3 minutes-plus. Nicki's unofficial count was 4:56. Not a bad day at all.

Now we wait. Due to the first-come-first-start time-trial-style start the timing chip is more a determinant of success than ever. And there are people still out on course who might go faster than Nicki.

She feels good about her race, even if not about her chances.

I didn't have to walk during the run," she said. "That is a big accomplishment.

"Ice was definitely the best thing ever to have at aid stations," she just added, as well as, "This stuff (some kind of Gatorade concoction) is great! I would promote it."

Maybe she needs some more sugar in her blood.

While we wait for the final results to see if she can claim one of 20 spots on the 25-29 age group national team. But, as I'm sure you've come to expect from us here at BlessedEndurance, we're not taking it easy.

Matt Breeding, a childhood neighbor and friend of Nicki's, is getting married in exactly 5 hours in Wilmington, N.C., which is about 62 miles due north of us. We'll probably hang out here at the race site for a few more minutes, pack up transition, eat and drink as much as possible (myself included because I don't need to race to have an excuse to eat), then jump in the car and head north. After the wedding, we'll spend the night in Wilmington, then come back here to the beach for a couple of days with Nicki's folks.

But Nicki's not thinking about that right now. She's still in butt-kicker mode.

"All I can say is that we have some training in the heat to do before (Ironman Louisville 2011)," she said.

USAT LIVE: She says she's feeling good

2010-10-02T12:08:00.003-04:00

MYRTLE BEACH, S.C. — With one 6.5-mile lap to go, the Trophy Wife says she's feeling good.

While she's out on that loop, let me just take a minute to brag about my wife. When it comes to athletics. She's great. She's dedicated. She doesn't miss a training day. And the girl burns energy more evenly than anyone I've ever met. She can just keep going and going, and she always has a smile on her face.

Whether Nicki is out on course or out on a training run, she finishes, and usually pretty quickly.

It's that kind of dedication that brings security to our marriage. Because her commitment to good for God, herself and others is reflected by her training, not the other way around. I never doubt her commitment to me, or us, and that does worlds of good for me when I'm struggling doubt. And there has been a lot of doubt in this past year.

So no matter what happens today at the finish line, no matter what the clock reads, I hope you'll read here how proud and thankful I am for her.

She is my glory.

USAT LIVE: The wind blows, man

2010-10-02T11:08:00.004-04:00

Nicki nearing T2. She's smiling because she knows she's beating a dude.

MYRTLE BEACH, S.C. — The elements are always a key part of any course and any race day. Today, the wind is blowing in 17-mph gusts to the south.

That's good news; as long as you're riding south. Nicki hates the wind. It's very discouraging to be putting forth high power and heart-rate numbers only to be going 12 mph. And the final miles of the bike leg were mostly north-facing.

I can only imagine how happy Nicki must be right now to be out of the pedals and into her runners. She finished the 56-mile bike leg a few moments ago. My watch freaked out earlier, so I can only guess on her bike time, which is probably going to be somewhere around 3 hours.

The 13.1-mile run is next. It's mostly flat. The temps are in the 60s right now, which is certainly favorable. I'm headed back out; hope to return with more photos.

USAT LIVE: She's off, but not in the water

2010-10-02T09:06:00.002-04:00

MYRTLE BEACH, S.C. — Nicki was with the overall leaders as she came into Transition 1. The fact that the swim was cancelled notwithstanding.

Race officials here cancelled the 1.2-mile swim — as well as the swims for the other three events today — due to dangerously elevated levels of e. coli in the intercoastal waterway. Apparently, the rise in the life-threatening bacteria is due to increased runoff, which came with the increased rainfall this week with the tropical storm.

Nicki was bummed. The swim is her favorite event, and she also uses it as a means to warm up for the bike. However, it may work to her advantage. Even though she loves the swim, she is usually slower in the water than the top females. She makes up huge amounts of time on the bike. Today she had no deficit to erase at the mount line. In addition, even though the swim was cancelled, there are still Team USA slots available.

All Nicki has to do is finish in the top 20 of the women's 25-29 age group. She has done better than that in every race this year, even the Patriot Half, which was the qualifying event for today's race. If she does that, she'll be eligible to race as a national team member at the 2011 International Triathlon Union Long Course World Championships in Las Vegas. That would be pretty cool, if you ask me.

She's probably finishing her first bike loop now, and my camera batteries are almost charged. We'll get some pictures loaded up here soon.

LIVE: USAT longcourse national championships

2010-10-02T05:43:00.002-04:00

MYRTLE BEACH, S.C. — Nicki will race with champions today in hopes that next year, she'll race as a champion.

She's tapping into her awesomeness. I'm tapping into some latent journalist part to run a live blog (hopefully) while she's racing. Check back here for updates and photos after each transition and then a later post with her final results and news on whether she made Team USA (more details on how she can do that later).

Later!

I farted in my wetsuit: Patriot Half race report

2010-09-13T10:08:00.009-04:00

WILLIAMSBURG, Va. – I love endurance sports for a couple of different reasons. No. 1: I am convinced that the longer the race, the more it is a metaphor for the Christian life – there is suffering from the start, encouragement to and from others in the midst, and celebration at the finish. No. 2: The longer the event, the more my ego gets checked. My first 70.3-mile triathlon – The Patriot Half here on Saturday, Sept. 11 – was certainly an exercise in answering the question “Just when did I start taking myself so seriously?” From the word Go, the event fought back, humbled me and helped me live in the present, enjoying what is instead of lamenting what was past and/or fretting what could be to come. Not long after the start gun fired ...

I farted in my wetsuit …

… and it tickled as it bubbled up to my neck. That was all well and good; a nice distraction from the reality of swimming 1.2 miles in the brackish James River. (By the way, as a result of this race, I learned that brackish means a combination of salt and fresh water, not just nasty.) But an apparent unintended consequence of farting in my wetsuit was the added buoyancy, which helped me float even more than I usually do when encased like a sausage in neoprene. Normally this would be a good thing because more float means more speed. But the James has quite a current, and being more buoyant apparently made me more susceptible to being flushed off course. I spent more time than I wanted talking with the kayakers whose job it was to keep people from swimming into the path of barges or the Jamestown ferry. Whatever the reason – current or just general lack of ability – I came out of the water in about 43 minutes and was quite distracted. I ran into an old college buddy, Janet Diersten (nee Shealey) in Transition 1. I never like knowing the truth about myself, and the truth was I not only was caught by a girl on the swim, but I girl I know (never mind that she’s really fast and was the 7th woman overall), which may have led to my lack of focus, which probably led to my general inattention to my task at hand, which may have led to …

I bonked on the bike …

… and by that I mean I failed to negotiate a 90-degree turn within the first mile of the 56-mile bike leg, and ended up flying over my handlebars and landing on the crown of my head in a ditch. That’s why we wear helmets, right? Any injuries I suffered were little more than some superficial scratches on my shoulder and some sore neck muscles the next morning. The crash probably did more damage to my bike than me, and I ended up stopping three times within the first 28 miles to fiddle with my rear barrel adjusters in order to make my gears shift properly. I finally hit a rhythm and really enjoyed the very flat course (compared to the incessantly rolling Shenandoah Valley). There was one scare for me late in the race when, as I was approaching the final water hand-off point – which I was counting on to maintain proper hydration in preparation for the 13.1 miles I was about to run once out of the pedals – a driver, apparently confused by all the two-wheeled vehicles on the John Tyler Parkway – abruptly stopped in front of me close enough to make me think I might flip over my bars again and into his trunk, and he distracted the dude handing out water just long enough to prevent him from handing me the greatly anticipated fluid. It was the one time I think I lost my cool during the race, and I yelled at the car: “What are you doing?! Drive!” As I approached the end of the bike, I missed the turn that tossed me out of the saddle on the way out, and I had to turn around and get back on course, commenting to the ladies directing traffic that the corner might be a little dangerous. Not sure how true that was, seeing that I think I was the only person out of more than 600 that couldn’t keep the rubber side down around it. So which is more dangerous? The turn or me? Don’t answer that, because there’s more to read …

I laid a turd on the run …

… OK, I didn’t really lay a turd, but I felt like I needed to, and I tried. There were port-o-potties along the course, and between mile 9 and 10, I was feeling a turtle head, so I made a pit stop. It may have just been a latent effect from the brackish James because nothing exited despite my efforts, limited as they were by the fact that I had been moving constantly for more than five hours at that point. Thus, I continued slowly on. There were lots of positives to going slowly, but the best thing was that Nicki caught me with a little less than 5K to go. There are few feelings like finishing a tough effort with the person that means the most to you in this world. We chatted about our races up to that point, realized how thankful we were that God has given us health and ability to even consider completing a sprint tri, much less a half ironman. We linked hands as we made the turn for the finish; we kissed as we crossed. It was a beautiful end to the season, and a fantastic start to the after party.

I finished in 5 hours, 44 minutes, 50 seconds. Which didn’t net me much on paper (20th in the men’s 30-34 age group, 160th out of 382 men overall), but plenty of joy. The beer tasted just as good. And Nicki maintained her awards streak, taking third in the women’s 25-29s (27th out of 155 women overall). The Trophy Wife has won hardware in 18 of her past 19 races, and this time she got a bottle of wine. Few things are more awesome than sharing in the spoils of victory with a fast woman!

The weekend overall was fabulous. We spent Friday night with my cousin Lee, her husband Dave and daughter Jenny in Williamsburg, where we caught up over Terrapin (all roads lead to Athens) and burgers. It was great to see Lee as she cheered us on race day, too, as she camped out a few meters from the line and gave me a big Go Dawgs! as I headed out for my second loop on the run, even though Dave did his graduate work at Tech. We saw Dena, our office manager at work, with her family. She was there near the turnaround and the finish taking pictures and hollering (kinda like she does every day in the office). We landed at Mama and Papa Bear’s house in Richmond and spent two days sleeping, eating and otherwise recovering.

The places, the pain and the people couldn’t have been better. Now we move on to … nothing. Just enjoying what is. There will be more events to endure in the future, but they are not now. There will be people and practice to take seriously, but not me. I am who God has made me, limited as I seem. And this race, this life, has led me to a place of acceptance: Of limits, of the present, and the realization that both not only exist, but can be enjoyed. That is a place and a time that I like, and that is right where I need to be.

Long overdue race report

2010-08-30T21:55:00.006-04:00

With our final building weekend completed in preparation for the season's half-iron climax, the taper is in full effect. And with less time spent pushing my heart rate to new limits, I have more time to write about the season to this point.

For everything that has changed since the last race report, something has stayed the same — Nicki keeps winning. The Trophy Wife placed second in the women's 25-29s at the Charlottesville Sprint Triathlon on June 24, won her age group a month later at the Charlottesville International Triathlon (Olympic distance), and then took third (25-29s) in the ultra competitive Luray International Triathlon on August 14. That race was a qualifier for the Best of the U.S. triathlon, which pits the best amateurs from each state against each other. For those who are counting (and I obviously am), Nicki has extended her run for hardware to placing in 17 of her past 18 events.

Along those lines, but in no way even close to Nicki's accomplishments, I recovered from hacking up my lungs in May to take my first-ever award, winning third in the men's 30-34s at the Charlottesville Sprint. I returned to form, of sorts, at the C-Ville International, thanks to a terrible 10K run. But I had a good race until then, even winning the bike leg among my age group. I think I must have just melted in the 100-degree temps by the time I exited T2. Lord, it was hot. My most complete race of the season came at Luray, finally putting in a run reflective of my ability level.

Hopefully, Nicki and I both are peaking at the right time. The Patriot's Half is 1.2 miles in James River, 56 miles cycling along historic roads, and 13.1 miles putting one foot in front of the other until the completion of the 70.3-mile course. Our weeks have consisted of swims, mid-range runs, hard rides. Our weekends have included ascending ski-resort roads, only to return home and run off the bike, then turning around on Sunday and running up to 10.25 miles before church. We're looking forward to a little down time before heading to Williamsburg on Sept. 10.

A year of humility

2010-08-15T16:35:00.006-04:00

If the twelve months between August 2008 and August 2009 were the year of accomplishment, the same period since then has been the year of humility. I came out of seminary full of confidence that I had found the path to which God had been calling me, and that I had been well equipped with the tools with which to follow it. I suppose the confidence I’m on the right track still exists, but today I have a much higher awareness of how unprepared I am to carry out day-to-day tasks on this trail marked with tripping roots and scratching thorns.

Many of you know that I have been working for the past year as an intensive in-home family therapist for an organization that primarily serves the poor and underserved. It is as much a struggle to serve this population as it is a thrill, knowing that a key part of Jesus’ ministry was living with forgotten and disparaged people, going into their homes and loving them on a daily basis. It is the chance to experience this aspect of the life of Christ that makes this work a spiritual experience like I’ve never known. But my sin is exposed at new levels on a regular basis, and if there is anything with which I struggle, it is knowing the truth about myself. It may be even more difficult for me to tell the truth about myself.

But the truth is I am arrogant. The truth is I have lived a privileged life, and I have little sympathy or patience for those who have lived otherwise. They’re where they are as a result of their own choices, after all. If they didn’t want to face the difficulties of parenting, maybe they just shouldn’t have had children; shoot, maybe they just shouldn’t have had sex. Those were choices I made and continue to make. Therefore, they have no excuse. Therefore my frustration, my impatience, my disdain for them is justified.

By God’s grace alone, I am learning more from the families with whom I work than they are learning from me.

I am particularly troubled these days by a recent event in which my carelessness probably led to deeper trust wounds for a local mom. Due to confidentiality, I cannot write openly about the details, however, I believe I can say it involves my use of language that could easily be interpreted as condescending, it involves my subversiveness and general lack of transparency for my motivations, it involves my inattention to who received messages intended for another.

An artist I respect, Derek Webb, has been recorded saying, “The best thing that can happen to you is that your sin is broadcast on the five o’clock news.” Well, mine was broadcast closer to the noon report, but I was blatantly exposed all the same. And you know, I’m glad. Despite the shame, despite my subsequent discomfort (for which I have yet had relief), my lack of discretion motivated Mom to respond appropriately to the threat I imposed on her family’s emotions and trust. My guilt helped open my eyes to my limits, and my grief has driven me back to the Cross.

Thank God for his sovereignty! Do you think he didn’t know my error was coming? Do you think it is a coincidence that I have been reading James’ letter this week? He knows who, when, where and how he will redeem those whom he has chosen, and he has known it from the beginning. “Oh wretched man that I am,” I am utterly dependent on him, whether I recognize it or not.

I also have found God’s providence in positive work I have done with another family. Some words that came out of my mouth this week with another mom sounded something like, “When you run into a task that you find too hard, ask for help.” These are boom-a-rang instructions for me.

Needless to say, this has been a season of growth for me full of growing pains. I have spent a lot of time over the past year complaining about this job. It is unstable, with long periods of low work availability and an apparently fickle funding source. It often feels futile; where do you start with a family with one mom, three children under 6, by three different men, a one-room basement for shelter, no job, no education and no other supports? And I have another organization, through the Church no less, that has little, if any, capacity for serving the poor on a consistent basis at present, and therefore presents fewer challenges to my sin of partiality and lack of trust in my maker. At the beginning of this month, I was so bold as to declare that my intentions were to go full time with that organization as soon as possible, hopefully before the end of the year and maybe before the end of August.

I am starting to wonder if that statement was just evidence I was looking to avoid taking the present steps of my calling. God shows me my path with a lamp unto my feet, and I didn’t like what little I was seeing.

Before the summer started, one of my supervisors, who happens to be one of the founders of our organization’s theoretical framework for family therapy, took a 30 second blink at a tape I was presenting before a group. He said nothing about my technique or my intervention. He said, “You need more humility.” I protested and looked for help from another supervisor as if to say, “This guy can’t be serious, right?” The supervisor did not relent, and even increased the intensity, saying I didn’t need to be the leader on the case, but a secondary counselor on the treatment team. I was shattered, and at the time, confused. I wasn’t expecting to hear such a direct critique.

Three months later, I’m still picking up the pieces of truth, and I’m only starting to understand that it is from this place of brokenness that I must come if I am, and those with whom I come in contact are, to heal.

Season openers are for learning

2010-05-02T14:33:00.006-04:00

What we learned on Saturday is that Trophy Wives are fast, snot rockets are slow.

Nicki and I started our most aggressive triathlon season yet with the Appalachian Power Smith Mountain Lake Sprint, during which we navigated through 750 meters of 65-degree open water, a 20K bike and a 5K run. It was the first of five events, which will culminate with the Patriots Half -- a 70.3 (1.2-mile swim, 56-mile bike, 13.1-mile run) on September 11.

We appear to be far from peak performance. That is encouraging to each of us, but for different reasons. For Nicki, it means there may be more trophies in her future. For me, it means there will be more oxygen.

The Trophy Wife lived up to her name and won her age group (scroll down to the 25-29s). For those who are counting, that's 13 top-3 finishes or better out of her past 14 competitive events. Her only miss in more than two years? Last month's Charlottesville 10 Miler, where she still set a PR at 1 hour, 19 minutes, 59 seconds.

This win was particularly exciting. Nicki took home hardware regularly during our five years in Mississippi. When we moved to Virginia, we both thought Hey, there are more people up here participating in voluntary suffering, which means there will be more people who excel at it, which means her chances would be diminished. As you can see from the 10 Miler results, our suspicions were confirmed there. So, we didn't get our hopes up on Saturday. But then we saw the initial finishing order, which had her 64th overall out of 500 or so, and we thought it was worth it to hang around for the awards ceremony just in case.

And wait we did. As luck would have it, the race organizers called the podiums of each of the age groups up to Nicki's, then decided to "go deep into the age groups" and call the 70-year-olds and move down. We decided to get comfortable. It took more than an hour.

Once the Female 25-29s arrived, we remained cautious. They called third place. Someone else, but no time called. Bummer. They called second place with no time. I said, "Oh, well. I'm still glad we waited." How lame is that? What kind of husband gives up hope so quickly? Hopefully I made up for it with my reaction, because when the announcer said, "And with a time of 1 hour, 21 minutes ..." he couldn't even finish (although I did hear him mispronounce our hometown) before I started squealing like a little girl. I spun around, punched my fist in the air, called her the Trophy Wife -- loudly. It was a real scene. People were backing away, smiling awkwardly at me. I didn't care. I was so proud.

There's nothing like being married to a fast woman.

Any misery I had been feeling about my day was eased by her success. And I was pretty miserable.

All spring, I have been fighting allergies, which have an uncanny ability to morph into some kind of upper respiratory infection. I thought that I was recovering from my last bout with them nicely until Thursday, when snot began to fill the left side of my face like water fills a torpedoed submarine. I fought feverishness, chills, hiccups and snot that looked like over-concentrated lemon-lime Gatorade most of that night. I quickly got on some allergy meds and some antibiotics that I didn't really take from my last URI problem a few weeks before. I had recovered a bit by Saturday morning, but not nearly enough.

At least not to last me until the run.

I coughed a little during the swim, but still finished faster than my 15-minute goal. However, things started to go downhill for me as I ascended the stairs out of the water and toward the transition area. I didn't lift my left foot high enough, stubbed my toe, and hit the deck (possibly muttering a one-syllable expletive on the way down in front of a large crowd -- imagine that). I got back up and hustled out of my wetsuit and onto the bike.

It was my first race on my new TT bike, and I was very excited to get pedaling. The course had some rolling hills of mild-to-moderate grades and several turns, including two 180-degree turnarounds. It was not a very fast course, and times were generally slower across the board than I expected them to be. But I knew I was in real trouble about 15K into the bike leg when the course took a tough climb before a 90-degree left turn. My legs did not respond to my command to go harder. I had to get out of the saddle and will myself to the top, probably using up my last drops of competitive energy.

When I crossed the dismount line, I was out of breath and out of gas. I caught neither. I also had a rock in my shoe as I started the run, which also sucked. I stopped to remove the small, but irritating pebble, and I seriously thought about removing myself from the event. After all, I had hacked up what appeared to be a solid part of half my right lung just a few strides earlier. I was stuck in a place between honoring my earlier effort and honoring my ailing body. I reached a compromise to shift into survival gear. I may have run the slowest 5K of my entire life (29 minutes? Really?), but Nicki caught me with a tenth of a mile to go. We crossed the line together, which we hadn't done at an event since January 2008.

It should make a nice picture when the race photos are published.

I finished 12th in the Men's 30-34s. But when it comes down to it, my run was the only leg that derailed me. If I had run the 20-minute 5K I'm capable of running, I would have moved into the top six.

Our next event is the Charlottesville Sprint, another 750m swim, 20K bike and 5K run, on June 27. We have two months to work out the kinks we discovered in our early-season form. Nicki wants to learn to swim straighter (she tends to weave in the absence of lane lines). We both want to improve our transition times, which include more efficient -- and risky -- mounts and dismounts of the bicycle. I want to have my respiratory system running at full capacity. These are all things that should lead to even faster times in June and for subsequent months.

For the meantime though, we know that the Trophy Wife is fast. And this snot rocket is reveling in that.

We're buckled up because we know parenting is a wild ride

2010-02-21T14:06:00.007-05:00

During a drive home from having dinner and 24 with friends last night, Nicki and I got to wondering how we arrived at such a defensive place when others ask us about our stance on starting a family.

Rick and Jessie are just a few years our senior, and they have four children. Jessie posed Nicki the question last night about how our phobia of children — apparently we have a reputation here — may affect our relationship with them, and whether the pressure she feels to "make her kids scarce" when we come over is justified.

Our unequivocal answer was that we love their children. Honestly, they're refreshing. They listen to their parents; they obey their parents; they listen to us; they smile; they laugh; they have fun when we're there and so do we. Words can't describe how great this is in light of our daily experiences as in-home family therapists.

We don't want their children to be scarce.

But that doesn't mean we're ready to change our position on starting a family right now.

What it does mean, however, as Rick pointed out, we no longer need to defend ourselves.

For clarity's sake, Nicki and I choose at this time to use birthcontrol. Yes, we are theologically conservative Christians with a liberal application of grace. Yes, we've thought about the "abortive" risks of birthcontrol. We choose to take the risk. We think it's a responsible choice considering we don't feel as financially secure as we'd like before adding to our familial responsibilities, knowing that we're barely emotionally healthy enough to balance our emotionally taxing jobs and provide emotionally for one other adult, much less a gaggle of love-hungry children, and knowing that we're not ready to give up our ability to up and play together, as in our previous post.

When we married three years ago, we had a lot of confidence in our choice. Our choice was even reinforced by many, many mentors who had been married and had parented children for many years.

It wasn't until last night that I think I began to get a grasp on what exactly shook our confidence and started us down this defensive path toward an apparent "enfantophobia".

Before I married Nicki, I had a good friend from growing up who married a lovely woman who had a child from a previous marriage. I visited them from time to time even though they lived a couple hundred miles away. I really took to this little boy, and in time he even began calling me uncle. Because of the relationship we had built, I gladly accepted when the friend and his wife asked me to be a godfather to this boy.

It was not such an easy decision for Nicki. She didn't have the history with my childhood friend. She had visited once. When we married, she was logically asked to become the child's godmother. Understandably, from my perspective, she declined. There were a lot of expectations of a godparent (some of which, I discovered after the fact, might have made me think twice about accepting had I known them at the time) that she wasn't willing to commit to for a child she barely knew of parents she barely knew.

Well, the Mom became offended, and made some pretty harsh accusations of Nicki and us. The relationship I had with my friend began to crumble like a broken dam; we've tried, but never really been able to repair it.

The worst of it is, we began to doubt ourselves. Maybe we were child haters. The doubts only intensified when we arrived in Jackson, Miss. The left the first church we attended for, among other things, lack of married couples our age without multiple children. At seminary, consistent pressure was implied around the sinfulness of hormonal or barrier methods of birthcontrol, the rationale of which might have even labeled any form of avoiding reproduction of married people as interference with God's will. We felt some pressure to conform, and when we didn't, I think we felt insecure about how others might be judging us.

But the fact of the matter is, we're not child haters. Good grief, we couldn't endure any of the smells, the yelling, the resistance, the trauma we choose to face with parents and children daily if we did.

This idea that by using birthcontrol interferes with God's will is just plain comedy. No act of man can stop the will of God. God is in control 100 percent, which, by the way, is greater than 99 percent.

We also realize that if we were to be blessed with a child at this point in our lives, we could and would provide for it. We know a lot of folks who do so for multiple children with much less than we have. But here's the thing about them: they are stressed to the max. Thankfully children are resilient, and they can overcome the "sins of their fathers". If we were to have children now, we would likely be setting our kids up for a more difficult task than they might have otherwise. I question the social and spiritual responsibility of such a move for us.

Using birthcontrol, as Rick pointed out, is like wearing a seat belt. God controls the ins and outs of life; he numbers our days just as much as he numbers our children and the hairs on their heads. So if using birthcontrol interferes with God's will, wouldn't auto safety as well?

We're gonna stay buckled for the time being. You've probably gathered, if you read this blog regularly, the life of Blessed Endurance is a wild ride!

Introducing BSX: Bicycle Ski Cross

2010-02-21T12:54:00.005-05:00

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02.20.2010 BSX Route
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Little did Nicki and I know that we would be creating a new sport on Saturday when we embarked on our first bike ride in more than a month. Maybe we were just excited that the temperature rose above 40; maybe the clear skies clouded my judgment.

Nevertheless, I mapped out a new route on MapMyRide and we were out the door. It felt so good to be in the saddle again. I had just successfully replaced my chain on my road bike for the first time without outside help, which made each pedal stroke even more satisfying.

The route I designed was based on a different direction and newly recommended roads. We took Churchville Ave. out to Frog Pond Road in order to start our ride south in the shadow of the Allegheny Mountains and Elliott Knob (4,463 feet), which is the highest spot in Augusta County and the third highest peak in Virginia. The ridge it is part of — Great North Mountain — was covered in snow, as was all the farm land through which we were riding. Blindingly beautiful. And many of the fields looked as if they had been untouched, as smooth and white as icing on birthday cake.

We chose to go long over fast, so we were finding our rhythm over the rolling hills, and we rode past any of the planned cut-off points thinking that we were making decent-enough time to ride the full route.

It wasn't until mile 25 or so that things got sketchy. The strade turned bianchi as we made the turn toward home, and it wasn't merely because the road was dusty, though it was that, too. As if we thought we'd start training for the Spring Classics just in time for the European season, we ran out of paved surface.

Neither was it snowplowed.

I remembered a comment Nicki made as she watched me map.

"I just hope all these roads are paved," she said, knowing that it is often the case here in the Valley that even the numbered roads sometimes are dirt. As I felt my back wheel slip through the slush, all I could do was laugh.

"Hate me later, Love. Right now, just keep those pedals turning," I said.

And that's what we did. Pull up, push down.

Despite frequent fishtailing, we rode the 1.5 to 2-mile stretch of gravel as deftly as Tom Boonen through the Arenberg Forest, rubber side down. We hit pavement again about 2 hours into the ride. We hit the gas on Middlebrook Road, and averaged higher than 20 mph the rest of the way home, thanks to the help of a strong tailwind. We still only averaged 15.3 mph for the day. Pretty slow for us.

But you never know, maybe that pace is the standard for a new winter sport? I hear the Olympics are always trying to expand. Once the women's ski jumpers get their wish, maybe Nicki and I will make our pitch.

Hard transitions and hardball

2010-02-06T19:10:00.001-05:00

I hate being limited. It’s a combination of disliking feeling overwhelmed — not having the emotional and physical resources at times to do the right thing — and disliking the fact that I need God.

I would rather just be able to depend on myself. I think this explains my affinity for seeking personal security in arbitrary measurements.

My limitations and patterns for ignoring them have manifested themselves pretty often during my transition to a new state and a new town, new career and a new job. I have hurt people, including Nicki, simply because I lacked self-awareness; I was overconfident in my ability to manage the stress and emotional toll these key transitions have had on me.

This past month-and-a-half has been particularly taxing. When both you and your spouse take an 18-percent pay cut and lose the benefit of mileage reimbursement for a job that requires a lot of driving of your personal vehicle — up to 70 miles roundtrip some days — it shakes your security. In addition to that, I have run into stout obstacles when it comes to meeting my monthly billing requirements (I must log — or bill — at least 100 contact hours per month with clients in order to maintain my full-time status, and receive my health care and dental benefits at a vastly reduced cost.

Two weeks ago, I had 32 billable hours scheduled, but I only finished with 12 hours of contact time. I was around 15 hours short of my monthly goal. That means I received a lot of cancellations, and with every cancellation came more frustration, more feelings of rejection. Anger is the result of blocked goals, and my goals were blocked over, and over, and over.

So I turned off my emotions. That’s how I’ve learned to cope.

The problem is that my emotions don’t want to stay turned off, and eventually they come rushing back. The result is usually unsavory, and usually directed at a person who is not a threat; a friend, a co-worker, my wife. I am ashamed of the way I have behaved at times during these past few months, and especially two weeks ago, on Friday, when Nicki was crying and confused on the couch as I said all the things I wanted to say to my clients, but used her name instead of theirs.

It sucks being limited. It sucks being a sinner.

My measurement of choice for gauging my sense of security is fluid and unpredictable. That makes it a bad choice. That makes it like sand.

But God is my rock. God is consistent.

When it comes down to it, all of our needs will be met: Shelter, food, clothing. No bills will be unpaid. We may not be able to reach our saving goals for the month, especially when the car goes in for a $20 oil change and comes out with a $500 overhaul.

We’re not saying, “We have to cut back on groceries;” we’re saying, “Maybe we don’t make the monthly deposit into the retirement account.”

A little perspective with my reality, please.

The trick for me is going to be staying aware of the hits I’m taking at work and out in the world. I’ve developed healthier coping mechanisms over the years. I need to use them more often.

One effective tool I developed in grad school was hitting baseballs. There was no batting cage around, so I bought one of these. It’s called a Hit-a-Way; it’s a baseball attached to two wires, that attach high and low to a pole. When you hit the ball, it wraps around the pole and uncoils right back into my wheelhouse. I’ve got a wooden bat, so I can feel every vibration of impact. But I haven’t taken a swing in a while. That’s part of the problem.

Going forward, I need to do a better job remembering this transition is a hard one. It’s time to play hardball against it.

Pray for our Pastor

2010-01-12T19:05:00.004-05:00

To all our faithful readers, please pray for The Gilmartins.

Rick is our pastor, Jessie is his wonderful, caring, honest wife, and Andrew is their sweet and very sick 2-year-old boy. He has cancer, which was diagnosed a couple days before Christmas.

They have three other children, all younger than 6. Maddie, Becka and Luke.

God, even though I can follow the logic that you follow through on your promises, and that one of your promises is that you are always in control, often I find it difficult to lead my heart to trust you so readily when such painful events happen to me and to those whom I love. I am confused. I am angry. I want you to fix this, and I want you to fix it now. Help me offer a more appropriate prayer. Father, help me to pray for your will to be done, whatever you will is, even when I don't like what I've seen your will looks like in this situation. You say in your word that every good and perfect gift comes from you. You also say that your ways are higher than mine. Father heal this boy, heal this family, heal those around them in the way you know is best. A-men.

Hey Santa, this kind of Christmas wasn’t on our list

2010-01-12T14:24:00.003-05:00

The holidays sucked. Which just meant Mom had to save them. And if all works out well, Nicki’s Mom will get in on the act, too, before it’s all over. But if what follows is any indication, there is no guarantee that anything is going to go as expected.

The trend started the week before we planned to go south to visit my family in Ellijay, Ga., two weeks before Christmas, and the week of forecasted snow. Like the winter storm forecast, the following events continue to escalate.

On Monday, Nicki and I discovered that the group of therapists we work the most for – the one that pays the bills – had been hit hard by a Medicaid audit (most of our funding comes from Medicaid). This becomes more significant later. The next day, well, due to confidentiality I can’t say much about this one. Let’s just say work “ran away” from me for the first time, and we were begging for the end of the week to arrive.

With the end of the week, though, also arrived the heaviest winter storm in 50 years for our area, dumping 20-25 inches here in the Shenandoah Valley. We were planning to leave for Georgia on Saturday, Dec. 18. The storm was predicted to arrive late on Friday. We adjusted our plans, but not enough. I cancelled my afternoon appointments, and we left home at 5 p.m. hoping to get to Tennessee, which was not forecasted to experience much, if any, snow, by bedtime. At 7:30 we were recruiting other stranded drivers in Lexington, Va., just 30 miles south of Staunton, to help push other cars up the exit ramp, so we could get to a hotel and hunker down for the night. We were fortunate to get a room. We were less fortunate the next morning, however, when our escape plan was thwarted by closed interstates and tractor-trailer plugged U.S. highways to our south. We chose to cut our losses and drive on a sheet of ice back to Staunton to wait out the weather. We missed the annual Pounds Family Christmas – a celebration with Mom’s side of the family which I had been looking forward to all year and which was the precipitator of our attempt to get south before Christmas – due to the weather. We tried to take solace in playing in the snow outside our house. It was great! Until we realized I had lost my cell phone somewhere in the mounds of frozen white stuff.

We drove home on clear roads on Monday. However, a rock slide greeted us near the Tennessee-Georgia line, just before the Ocoee River dam, further rerouting our plans. But we arrived to family and warmth. Things were looking up, right?
Bright spots in the midst of the chaos: Meeting Uncle Andy and Aunt Laura (Mom’s youngest brother) and the Quarterpounders (their children … funny because there are four of them and their last name is Pounds) at The Varsity in Atlanta. Here you can meet their eldest, Sarah, who is 14 and will most likely be President one day (if not Poet Lauriat); a wine and cheese party at Brandon and Laura Andrews’ apartment in Marietta, where we reconnected with many friends from the past, including these two; two great bike rides – one in Ellijay and one in Marietta, the latter including a quick climb to the top of Kennesaw Mountain.

Our stay at the top was short-lived. After the summit of Kennesaw Mountain, Nicki and I went to the Square Bagel, my favorite Marietta breakfast stop, to replace the calories we burned. And what had they run out of? That’s right … BAGELS!

On Christmas Eve, there was a huge windstorm in Ellijay. Santa must have had a hard time navigating the high gusts in my parents’ neighborhood because several trees fell, including one on their neighbor’s car, and the power went out at 1 o’clock Christmas morning. No electricity at my parents’ house means no: 1.) Central heat, 2.) Oven for the huge meal planned, 3.) Flushing the downstairs toilet (it’s on an electric pump to the septic tank).

Enter Mom the Magnificent. She was first to think of the gas logs in the fireplace to keep at least the upstairs warm. We all huddled around the hearth to open presents. Mom was the one who lit countless candles. Mom was the one who thought to cook the entire Christmas meal on the grill – THE PROPANE GRILL! It was probably the best turkey I’ve ever tasted. Much juicier than the oven, much like frying a turkey without all the oil. Mom cooked everything out there: The oyster dressing (which this family does not do without during the holidays), the sweet potatoes, the gravy, on and on.

The power came back on just as the table was set.

We watched Marley and Me after dinner. Like we needed an excuse for a good cry.

I wanted to quit my job when I got an e-mail the day after Christmas that my resume had been pulled because Medicaid, as a result of their audit, came to doubt my qualifications. Thankfully that was a pretty easy fix, and Nicki and I are still employed. Many people, with whom we worked, however, are not. Mostly because they didn’t meet pre-determined rules, i.e., they had two years of field-related experience instead of three. No regard was given to the fact that they have video upon video of them doing quality family therapy, nor was regard given to the outstanding outcome data achieved by our organization.

We came home for a few days before heading to spend New Year’s with Nicki’s family in Richmond, Va. On Monday, Nicki picked up her car, which was in the shop to have the driver’s seat reupholstered. The seat looked great. The battery was dead, though. Nicki bought a new battery, but the car died again hours later. After going around trying to get someone to tell her what was wrong and how to fix it, she shoved a nail at one of the connection sites to fix the problem. She is some kinda woman.

New Year’s Eve we spent in Richmond with Kevin and Sarah Schnute, who fed us, and fed us and fed us with fare ranging from Kevin-rolled sushi to mussels to tuna burgers. Not sure how we can follow that act when we try to reciprocate.
The holidays’ began to suck again on New Year’s Day when, while we were visiting Nicki’s parents, the garbage disposal started blowing foul stuff back into the house instead of into the sewer line. There was a hefty charge to get a plumber to come out on a holiday weekend, of course.

Nicki and I came away from her parents’ house in pretty good shape, though. All in all, our holidays were filled with rest, family, friends, food, heroism, stellar toys (a sled, bikes and computers, among other things), even if there were a few obstacles. But the story couldn’t end without one last gaff.

As I type this, I’m sitting at home, on my warm couch, on my new computer. But I just got off the phone with my mother-in-law; I called because I needed a favor.
“Jan,” I said, “Would you mind mailing something to me tomorrow?”

What I need her to post is hanging next to her back door, in Richmond, 100 miles away. Next to Jan’s car keys are … my car keys.

Happy New Year!

UPDATE: The keys have arrived in the mail. Thanks Wamp!

ROT (Random Other Things)

2009-11-16T12:56:00.002-05:00

1.) I dreamed the other night that Oprah, who was a regular reader of Blessed Endurance, and I were having a conversation, and she said, "I see there is a manner to your mania."

2.) Is it just me or does it seem like the 9/11 mastermind has no chance of a fair trial if he is tried in U.S. courts? I'm curious about why this case is not being tried at The Hague.

3.) This has had me thinking a lot about help for helpers.

On the job training

2009-11-09T12:05:00.001-05:00

My job is wonderful because I see God’s desire for relationship with his creation every day. My job is terrible because, like a steam engine, it will take whatever you give it. Sometimes it’s easy to just keep feeding the furnace; before you realize it the train is off the tracks.

This weekend I have been trying to apply the brakes.

Two months into my counseling residency, I have come to the realization that I haven’t had a clear enough understanding, or a high enough respect, of my own limits. During the past two weeks, I have spent more than 100 hours at work. As a result, I subconsciously had turned off my emotions. So when co-workers and supervisors told me what was full-time effort, but then asked for more and responded to my “No” in a way that I interpreted meant my “No” was not acceptable, I went along with it.

I thought I could do more than I could. I was naïve. I recognized Sunday that I was suppressing a lot of anger, loneliness and fatigue.

A 5-year-old boy receiving his H1N1 vaccination brought my emotions rushing back. I joined the child in class on Friday as part of his treatment plan. Unbeknownst to me, the vaccinations were on the agenda, but I went along with the process because my job is to blend in during the school day; go along with the child, observe his behavior, be a secure attachment figure for him.

When he got in the chair to get his shot, he began to panic. I was kneeling beside him while one nurse prepared the shot and another woman tried to calm him. When the woman began to use the child’s mother as a bargaining chip – “Don’t you think it would make your Mommy happy ...” – I had had enough. I asked to give it a go, and the lady let me sit in her chair. I gently took the child’s hands, lowered my head to get to eye level. The little guy exhibits ADHD characteristics on top of this spike in anxiety, so his eyes were going everywhere. I caught his gaze, held it and said:

“You are going to do this, and I’m going to be right here with you.”

That’s when he rolled up his own sleeve and let the nurse give the shot. He screamed. Boy, did he scream. And I thought my heart was going to explode. He hugged my neck when it was over. We both cried.

For the rest of Friday and most of Saturday, my thoughts about the experience revolved around how much of an emotional mess I was going to be when I was in the chair across from a child of my blood rather than a child of my job. I didn’t get the point God was trying to get to me.

Until Sunday.

The sermon was based on John 6:32-35, 48-58. Jesus is presenting himself as the bread of life to a people who remember Moses’ manna and are longing for another spiritual leader who will literally feed them. They want to know that their physical needs will be met. Jesus drives a pretty grotesque metaphor, and he doesn’t back away from it or explain it in a more palatable way.

Because I consider myself a believer in attachment theory and its reflection of the design of a God who keeps covenant, I interpreted Jesus’ metaphor to be directing the people to find their security in Him as God. He goes deeper than physical needs, thus he meets those needs in ways that may seem mysterious.

My experience with the child and a needle came flooding back to me. I found myself in the child’s chair, my eyes darting every which way, and a counterfeit security sitting in the chair before me, manipulating me. Work more, earn more, eat more, right? Reality is work more, lose more. Lose more time with the people that matter to me personally. Lose more connection with my emotions. Lose more energy to do my job well enough to keep my job.

Reality is that I’m not hungry, or cold, or exposed physically. God has provided more than I even knew to want or ask.

So I need to have a chat with some co-workers and my supervisor starting today about where I have been and maybe explain some odd behavior.

I also need to be more proactive about connecting with guys, fellow strugglers. Rick, our pastor, found Nicki and me after church where we had squirreled away so I could process. I hugged him and the emotions came back. I hugged him hard, putting all my anger into it. I hugged him harder than I hug Nicki. I don’t want to break her, after all.

The Move: Part Deux

2009-11-02T12:25:00.007-05:00

Well, Nicki’s here in the living room doing yoga, so I figured what better time to write about reasons to celebrate God stretching our boundaries and moving us here to Staunton. The move is the dawn of our life together as DINKs (dual-income, no kids), professional counselors and charter members of a church plant. It marks our return to the mountains for which we longed in Mississippi, closeness to family, the Eastern Time zone and four seasons. It has thrown fuel on the fire of our passions, such as cycling, backpacking, running and generally being outside. What follows are a few of the details of why we love Staunton and that fuel our hope that this be the place God lets us put down roots.

Our house is awesome. Instead of an interstate highway, we have a soccer field. Instead of having noisy neighbors, we live on an island in a quiet neighborhood. The back porch is made for drinking coffee, hanging out and watching really bad NCAA Division III women’s soccer on the aforementioned soccer field. We have a basement in which to store our bikes, we have an upstairs where we have a guestroom. You really should visit.

Much credit is due to Mama and Papa Bear (my pet names for Paul and Jan Baran, my in-laws). They were our housing scouts and drove about 2 hours from Richmond twice during August to check out places we found on Craig’s List and others they found. They deserve praise for many things, but most of all for caring enough about our housing to refuse us the chance to use our own judgment. They showed us places we wanted them to see. So glad they were able to put eyes to the city and ears to the landlords.

We can walk almost anywhere we want to go: Church, downtown, the Y, grocery store Gypsy Hill Park. Another park, with 5 miles of running/MTB trails is 2 miles away. We can get to our favorite cycling routes out our back door instead of driving them 15 miles up an interstate to the starting point. Can’t tell you how much I appreciate those extra minutes of sleep on Saturday mornings!

This place is hilly! This is the view from the end of Johnson Street, which runs through downtown. The road hits a 19-percent grade just before its summit. For some perspective, consider that Alpe d’Huez doesn’t go steeper than 12 percent. Lance would have fun in our city.

Nicki has a nose for horses. She often rides Ohle, a Norwegian Fjord, at Cedar Creek Stables. When she moved to Jackson, she did an Internet search for barns in the area at which she could do chores and take lessons. That was part of the process for finding our friends Michele and Tim at what used to be the Mount Leopard Children’s Ranch between Pocahontas and Flora. Tim and Michele introduced Nicki to EAGALA, a certification organization for therapists who use horses as therapeutic tools. On a bike ride shortly after we moved, Nicki saw Cedar Creek’s shingle on Shutterlee Mill Road. It wasn’t long before she knocked on their door. She found that they already were involved in Ride With Pride, a NARHA program. Before Nicki showed up, the RWP coordinator, Debbie, had been wanting to bring on a Master’s-level therapist to open up the mental health side of equine therapy. Now, Nicki had had a lot of frustration finding a job up here, and the slowness of finding employment gave her time to search for a barn. Within a month, Nicki and Debbie were talking about including Nicki in grant writing, attending EAGALA certification weekends next year, and paying her a salary. How’s that for God’s provision?

Speaking of God’s provision, I have been employed with the Harrisonburg office of the League of Therapists, and I have just reached full-time status. That means I’m billing at least 100 client-contact hours per month. I call this my tent-making venture, because it’s giving us a regular paycheck and providing benefits while we also work with Journey Counseling Ministries, a biblically based counseling ministry started by John Kuebler, a fellow RTS Jackson graduate and an licensed professional counselor and marriage and family therapist on staff at Covenant PCA in H’burg. Nicki and I were approved to come on staff by the board of directors on Oct. 21. I saw my first client through JCM last week. Nicki is going to Lexington today to meet with a pastor down there who wants to give JCM office space to do work with their community, which includes two major college campuses, Virginia Military Institute and Washington & Lee University. Our practices are taking off, and we get free supervision toward state licensure through Kuebler and the League (Nicki is in talks to come on with the Waynesboro League office).

As you can see, God has taken care of us. I have only touched the surface. There will be much more to report; we’ve only been here two months. Look for Nick to let you in on our last-minute, overnight jaunt to the top of Elliott Knob. It’s the highest point in our county (4,600-plus feet), where Nicki took the sunrise pic at the top of the post, and the trailhead is less than 15 miles from our front door. Be jealous. Be very, very jealous.

The Move Part I: Great Losses

2009-10-24T12:37:00.009-04:00

STAUNTON, Va. -- You may have noticed the new town listing under our name to the right of the page. Many of you already knew that we have moved from Jackson, Miss., to Staunton, Va. This is a big part of the reason we haven’t updated in a while. There has been much to write about, but not much time to write it.

Today, there is a little quiet time as Nicki is helping with a horse show and I’m sitting in the living room of some new friends, dog sitting. There is so much to update the world on that I’m breaking it into two parts.

Freshest on our minds, I think are who and what we have lost during the transition. The grief is great. Tears continue to be shed, and I think you’ll understand why. We have sacrificed many connections to follow what we believe was God’s direction to the Shenandoah Valley. We have given up:

Our Neighborhood

Belhaven in Northeast Jackson. It was safe. It was calm. It was lined with trees. It was close to work. It was perfect for walks. Nicki walked to work. You could argue that our house now is nicer. You could argue that our neighborhood is comparable, with most of the things we want within walking distance. But it’s not the same. There are no fig trees close by. Our offices are too far away. It’s sad.

Our Pets

We lost both our pets during the transition. Jack was lost directly because of the move. We found it next to impossible to find a place to rent that would accommodate an 80-pound golden lab and not blow our budget to smithereens. Jack was dear to me because, firstly, he was awesome: He was the perfect outdoor dog – swimming, camping, he would do anything as long as you involved a tennis ball. He didn’t do stupid things that a lot of other dogs do, i.e., bark inappropriately at all hours, bite kids, defecate inside or chase cyclists ... at least not maliciously. And He was sort of a grounding presence for me during what I would call the most difficult time of my life. Let’s just say I kept Jack in the breakup. Part of me felt really guilty about letting Jack go because it felt like I was shirking my responsibility to take care of him. But at the end of the day, I recognized that my circumstances between the time that I got Jack and now are vastly different. Plus, I found a great family to take him in. Eight acres, a lake, other dogs, higher tax bracket. Big time upgrade for the Jackinater.

The indirect loss, however, was the most painful. Nicki’s childhood pet, Snowy, died the week after we arrived in Staunton. She was 16, and had been a key part of Nicki’s life since Nicki was 11. Most of Nicki’s affection-giving habits, like sniffing my face in the morning and playing with my ears, are a product of her relationship with Snowy Bean. The White Witch of Narnia had nothing on Snowy Bean. She ruled her kingdom, and none crossed her. She had my in-laws feeding her gourmet style twice a day. When she was in good health, her throne was Nicki’s bed. In her later years, she preferred to basement couch, but a royal couch it was! All joking aside, she was a fine feline, and Nicki loved her very much. The timing of her passing was both fortuitous and tragic. Nicki had the chance to say her goodbyes shortly after we arrived in Virginia, but the loss compounded Nicki’s grief. Many, many tears will be shed for Snowy Bean for many years to come. Honestly, how do you move on from the passing of a presence so familiar? Snowy’s passing is not unlike the passing of a cherished, matriarchal family member.

Our Friends

We had a deep, deep love for our friends, especially our riding buddies. Pictured above are Jim and Clifford; a third member of the team was Matt, but I couldn't find the picture with all of us in it (and maybe more regrettably, without Jim's GOP jersey). Nicki rode with Clifford nearly everyday during the summer. We all rode every Saturday at least 40 miles, but usually more than 60, together. We had regular routes. We supported each other on club rides. We tried our damnedest to help Clifford average 20 mph for 100 miles before he dies. Clifford and Pat became almost surrogate parents for us in Jackson. I can’t count the number of times they fed us. His deer sausage is the best I’ve ever put in my mouth and his Margaritas put me fastest on the floor. Nicki regularly raided Pat’s herb garden (not sure who was helped more by this, Nicki or Pat). Matt is kind of like our redneck cousin. He always has a story (I’m going to start writing them down one day and be the ghost writer for his book), a kind word, a long pull for somebody in the group. We went through some tough relationship stuff with him, and we got close. As for Jim, well, he’s sort of like the eccentric uncle that no one knows quite what to do with, but is always ready with a helping hand at the most unexpected moments. It was our connection with him that helped us find a new home for Jack. We’re mourning our daily connection with this group deeply. Thankfully, Clifford calls regularly, Jim finds us on Facebook from time to time, and Matt has planned a visit around Thanksgiving. But we miss them on Saturdays. Long rides just aren’t the same without Matt ripping our legs off before we’re warmed up, Jim yelling CRBK! when there’s a four-wheeled menace behind our paceline, and Clifford saying at the end, “Well, we got 57.8783857245 miles. Who wants to go around the block for an even 60?”

Our Church

I’ll conclude the post by mentioning our church, Redeemer Presbyterian Church. It was unique because it was a multi-ethnic congregation in one of the whitest, dullest denominations in the country, the Presbyterian Church in America. You may have heard conservative Presbyterians called “The Frozen Chosen” for their adherence to the Calvinistic doctrine of predestination and their utter lack of rhythm and/or emotions. But our church was focused on racial reconciliation in a city that is the capital of one of the more culturally wounded states in the nation due to racism. Our pastor was an excellently spoken, educated and relational man, who also happened to have dark skin. He knows God, knows his Word and can deliver it in word and deed to his family and community. I have much admiration for him. But the church was much more than Mike Campbell. It was Steve and Sherry Lanier (fellow Bulldogs), Dina Plunket, the Great Dent klan. Gene and Betty Marsha Dent led our homegroup, pictured above. This thin slice of the church community was full of great friends of ours, many of whom had graduated from RTS with an MA in marriage and family therapy, like us, some of whom had also attended concurrently with Nicki. We prayed for each other. We helped each other. We fed each other. Our church here, Holy Cross (PCA) is also a new church looking to reach a city with unique needs. The diversity is not the same right now. And though we can be a big part of changing that since we’re charter members, we miss rocking out with the choir to hymns, spirituals and choruses. “I thank you for food on my table/ I know you’re able!/ I wanna say thank you!” I get chills when I sing that song up here.

So, as you can see, there is much to mourn during our transition. I've just scratched the surface, really. There are so many more people to mention, Michele and Tim, Tina and all the horses at Mt. Leopard, Kiki and Trey, Ariel and Jeff, Josh and Krista, The O'Dells, The Rogers, the RTS MFT Launching class of 2009, on and on. ... And the process is far from over. That’s not to say that we don’t have things for which to be thankful. But for now, we’ll allow the acknowledgement of sadness. There will be a time for celebrating. But it is not now.

The debate is not about health CARE ...

2009-08-11T15:18:00.002-04:00

The debate is about health INSURANCE. The debate is not about the availability of service, but how to pay for it.

The President says he wants to make changes in the current insurance system, which pervades how care is administered in hospitals and private doctors' offices, so that more people can afford it. There is talk about a "public option," which appears to be more complicated than it should be, and a lot of opposition to it.

I've been thinking a lot about this issue and the paths proponents and opponents have taken to push their ideas. Neither side appears to be doing itself many favors. The loudest, most publicized voices appear to come from the margins and those with the more extreme opinions. For example, The President himself has drawn much criticism for the speed at which he wants to get this measure passed. This tack makes it look like he's trying to sneak something by the public, and that's exactly how the opponents spin it. Then there's the whole death panel thing. Is there a moderate voice anywhere with a cool head who can explain to me what I need to know in a way I can understand?

So I've come up with two questions that I want answered.

1.) Why can't the public and private options co-exist?
This is the case with schools. Public education is available to every child in America through the 12th grade. In some areas, this education is more valuable than in others. In areas where public schools may be below standards for some people, there is a private option for which parents can pay extra. They still pay taxes, which pay for public schools. It's a similar situation in the legal system. Everyone, citizen or not, is entitled to legal representation if accused with a crime. Often this state-provided representation is lack luster. Often, it is top notch. If you don't want to take the risk, you can pay for your own, private representation. Who pays for the public option? Taxpayers.

Aren't these just examples of public and private options co-existing, and in the grand scheme, don't they co-exist reasonably well? I've heard people complain about public schools, but not to the scale people are resisting public health insurance. I've never heard anyone make a credible argument against public legal defense.

2.) Whatever happened to the
state health department? The same people who regulate restaurant cleanliness also make health care service available, like preventive care, immunizations, disease testing and prevention. Growing up, Mom took us to the county health department for our school immunizations because it was the same care for much, much less. I remembered this the other day when I was in the Hinds County Health Department waiting to get a TB skin test for my new job. Not sure what a physical or a booster shot costs, but my TB test was all of $10. I can handle that. And no, I didn't see a doctor. I saw an RN. But she squeezed the syringe just fine and was quite gentle. She was also quite knowledgeable when I asked her what limitations I might have after receiving the test.
And the experience wasn't any worse than when I went for my "HEALTHY YOU" physical two weeks ago at the private clinic except for the floors at the health department weren't carpeted. I sat around strangers. I still had to wait.
What really stands out to me between my two latest health care experiences is that not only was the private billing more complicated, even with insurance, what was meant to be a no-cost visit has turned into a $51 debacle. Apparently the doctor chose to administer a procedure that, unbeknownst to me, was not covered by my insurance. I scheduled a "healthy you" appointment (it was supposed to be free because the insurance company figures that if they spend a little on my preventative care now, they will have to spend MUCH less in responsive care later, which makes sense) trusting the doctor's office, who has collaborated with my insurance company to provide this care, would know what to administer and what not to administer. However, when the doctor's office doesn't play by the rules, then I AM held responsible by the insurance company. This angers me, even if it is only $51.

So the whole thing makes me wonder why I need anything more than bare-bones catastrophic health insurance in the event that I have a client come after me with a chain saw, or I need stitches after laying down my bike.

I guess what it comes down to is that I'm healthy, and I care about staying that way. Maybe if more people took this approach, and used the health department rather than the emergency room, Obama could focus on issues of national importance, like how to make post-secondary EDUCATION more affordable.

Heart of Dixie Triathlon

2009-07-30T13:12:00.023-04:00

Heat…hills…pain…lost equipment…This race had been built up so much by those who have done it in the past that I was a bit anxious about how everything would go for our first time. However, with the exception of poorly organized transportation back to the start (it is a point-to-point race so you finish about 35 miles away from where you began) and some unfortunate/scary experiences for me on the bike and run (more on that later), the day turned out to be our best race so far! Never did see any real "hills"...some of these MS people need to spend some time in the mountains!

Anyway, we were both very excited about our results. Charles placed 6th out of 31 in his super competitive age group, quite an impressive accomplishment! He had a solid .5 mile swim, cranked out 23.3mph on the bike (love that new aero helmet!), and breezed through the 7 mile run averaging 6:49 min miles, the fastest he said he’s run since high school. I was 1st in my age group and 5th woman overall after a decent swim (need to work on being ok with swimming closer to people in open water because I end up adding distance by taking wide turns), my fastest bike average ever of 21.9mph, and also my fastest run ever, averaging 7:22 min miles. I am now convinced that speedwork really does improve running speed because I shaved 35 sec/mile off my run time as compared to what I did in June at the Heatwave. We were both encouraged that all the training we have been doing this spring and summer paid off. (photo above is Charles, body marked, feeling strong, ready to rest up for the big race! I don't have too many "normal" shots of him...)

Now a few fun stories from my race since it seems it was more eventful than what Charles experienced! After an uneventful swim (always thankful for open water swims where I avoid getting kicked in the face), I ran up to the chaos that was the transition area. I think what this race taught me more than anything is the importance of having triathlon-specific equipment, for example bike shoes that you leave clipped on your pedals and put on while beginning the ride as opposed to my current method of having to put on my mountain bike shoes (and socks…ugh, more on the unfortunate sock experience in a minute) while standing in the transition area. This not only slows down the transition time, but also proved to be nearly impossible in the ridiculously cramped grassy space that held all 400+bikes. I could hardly bend over without knocking into the bike behind me, and the bike next to mine was so close that I could barely even reach my shoes on the ground by my bike because the handlebars were so tight. Dude beside me was like “well, at least we’re all being friendly all packed in here!” I was like, “um, yeah, about to get unfriendly if you don’t hurry up and get your bike out!” So after 1:30, I was finally on the road (fast people do transitions in less than 1:00).

The big rule in the bike leg of triathlons is no drafting which is fine unless you happen to come out of the transition area with someone who is going to ride at about the same speed as you are. Mr. Orange and I did just that (he was wearing a bright orange top, thus Mr. Orange). We went back and forth passing each other at least ten times on the 27.5 mile bike ride. He was driving me crazy because he would accelerate to pass me (usually on the downhill…bigger dudes go down a bit faster than I do!) and then just quit pedaling. So then I’d have to accelerate to pass him to avoid ending up in his draft zone, and on and on it went. He got ahead of me near the end, but then we came up a steeper hill where I flew by him and a whole other group of guys (that’s my favorite part…passing people on the ups!) He was at least friendly about it and told me “nice ride” when we got to transition #2.

Other than playing leap-frog on the bike, I had near-crash #2 in two weeks around mile 20. About two weeks ago on our Tuesday night race ride, we were heading down Hwy 22 when the guy 2 bikes ahead of me touched wheels with the guy in front of him because some guy in front of him touched the brakes unexpectedly...so the two right in front of me go down, skidding across the road and flipping over each other, and somehow I made it through the wreckage without going down as well, though I swear I must have been within inches of running over someone or someone's bike. It was very scary to say the least. So then, during this race, as the road veered off to the right at one point, the guy a bit in front of me was riding along the shoulder. As I was getting ready to pass him, he came back on the road, but because the shoulder was a bit lower than the road, he caught his wheels on the uneven pavement, flew up in the air, and skidded out on his side right in front of me! AHHH! Again, somehow I avoided hitting him. Needless to say, I was a bit shaken up for the next mile or so.

I was most concerned about the run part of this race because I typically do not run well in the heat. Thankfully, it was much cooler than usual. Everything was going fine until about mile 4 when my feet started reminding me that running in wet socks is a BAD idea. My socks were so wet because I made the terrible mistake of putting them on during T1 not T2 when I would have been dry from the swim. Because this race is a point-to-point, they take your bag of run stuff from the start to T2 for you, and I was concerned that if by chance my socks got lost, it would be a bad day (not that having them turned out to be much better...) One day I will be a real triathlete and run without socks, but until then, I will remember to put them on during T2. So miles 4 and 5 were starting to get painful because of the rubbing on my arches, and by mile 6 when we turned off the road onto the dirt road through the fairgrounds to get to the final mile on the horse track, I thought for sure my feet were going to rub right off. The uneven dirt on the track was especially painful, but I cranked out that last mile and immediately hobbled over to the medical tent after the finish so that they put some blister pads and tape on my feet. I then walked around barefoot with taped arches until we got back to the hotel to get my flip flops. Ouch.

Getting back to the hotel was the only really frustrating part of the day. The Sertoma Club provided transportation, but rather than leaving at 9:30am as they said it would, we didn't leave until about 10:15, making it impossible to drive 35 miles to the start, get our car, shower, check out, pick up our bikes, and drive 35 miles back to the finish in time for the 11am awards ceremony. I was disappointed to have missed it, but the afternoon was redeemed by the time we got to spend with our good friends, Abigail and Les, who were kind enough to invite us over to their cabin to have lunch with them and their family. The Neshoba County Fair (where the race ends on the track) is an interesting place. I think it was the largest collection of confederate flags I've ever seen. Established in 1889 and also known as "Mississippi's Giant Houseparty," the fair lasts for a week, and there are hundreds of cabins around the main track that families have owned for decades. The rest of the year they just sit empty, but it seems like everyone has a great time at this "family camp" type place for that week! It is the nation's largest campground fair. The fair has all the usual fair activities like rides, but it is also a political forum for state and local politicians to make speeches in the square. As a random bit of info, I just read that Ronald Reagan even gave a post-convention speech there on "state's rights" in August 1980, promising to restore power to state and local governments (rather controversial in a county where one of the most heinous civil rights crimes occurred: the KKK murder of 3 civil rights workers during the summer of 1964). And there's a little history lesson with the race report for all you info-gatherers like me.

Charles and I are now training for a new kind of endurance event: packing to move. For those of you who haven't heard, we are moving to Harrisonburg, VA, on Monday, August 24th! This post is ridiculously long already, so I won't go into details right now, but stay tuned for more updates in the coming weeks. Until then...keep your socks dry and have a good day!

It was UDDERly aMOOsing

2009-07-14T17:26:00.007-04:00

Just for a laugh, here are some pictures from Cow Appreciation Day which Charles and I celebrated last Friday. Who wouldn't dress up like a cow to get free food? We even got our friend Matt to come along!

And yes, those are "udders" made from blown up medical gloves...Charles said this was great practice for down the road when our children need a costume created quickly or have to do some crazy school project. We are experts at living out the first aid motto of "do what you can with what you have where you are!"

Le Tour de Vie

2009-07-12T13:16:00.003-04:00

For a very long time, I have been searching for a hobby. But not just a thing to do to pass the time. I have long wanted sort of a headquarters of a hobby. A frame for creating, discovering, testing myself and the world around me. I have been searching for a basecamp on my quest to daily prove that I am alive. I am searching for a complex activity that I can continue to do until I am, in fact, dead. I think I have found it, and probably no surprise to those of you who have read previous posts, in the bicycle.

I think I first became aware of this search the first time I saw the movie A River Runs Through It. You know, that Robert Redford directed and narrated film about a Presbyterian family in Montana and its focus on the developing relationship(s) between two brothers and their father. Fishing was their basecamp of life. Through it they proved to themselves and to each other that they had what it takes, they were alive and growing.

You may know that fly fishing is much more complex than just a way to catch fish. There are intricacies around the kind of fish to catch, the kind of water to fish, the type of fly to use and how to make it, the kind of rod to use. And by the way, a true fly fisherman NEVER fishes with a pole.

The problem with fly fishing is, well, I’m terrible at it. There something about seeing results that I crave about my hobby, and for whatever reason, the only kind of result I’ve accomplished during my few forays into the water is a wet dry fly. I’m not sure exactly why I have never caught a fish, but there are a host of problems I care not to resolve. Improving the length of my tippet, my ability to tie knots, my understanding of – “hey Nicki, what’s the word for the study of insects?” – entomology. They all seem more cumbersome than they are worth to me.

Cycling, however, similarly is more complex than I ever imagined before my first pedal stroke. Like there are different types of fish to catch, there are different reasons for riding the bike: Racing, touring, cruising, etc. Like there are different types of water to fish, there are different milieux for bikes: Tarmac, single track. Like there are rods fashioned from different materials, there are different materials for frames: Steel, aluminum, titanium, carbon fiber. And each material has its own romanticism associated with it. A bamboo rod is for the fishing conservative/purist/afficianado as the steel frame is for the cycling counterpart. Traditional, durable, smooth. Then there’s the graphite or whatever the newest material is for the fisherman that corresponds with the carbon-fiber cyclist – the more progressive set.

What I find most remarkable, however, about the similarities in these two disciplines is the pedestal on which the do-it-yourself set is placed. If you tie your own flies, you are revered among fishermen. If you build your own bike, you have instant respect within the cycling community. People come to you for advice. People follow your example.

While I have no interest in learning how to tie a dead-stone fly, I lust over bike catalogues and thirst for an understanding of how to change a bottom bracket. As of now, my bike maintenance/building ability extends just beyond cleaning/lubing my chain and changing a rear cassette. But I have set a goal for the near future – to convert my Dad’s 1999 LeMond Vegas City steel road bike into a fixie. It will require replacing the drive train to some extent, removing the derailleurs and replacing the freewheel hub with a fixed cog. The only brakes will be the strength of my quadriceps. Truly old-school.

Who knows where this will go? But eventually I’d like to race my road bike again. Maybe I’ll take up mountain biking. Maybe, when I get older I’ll calm down and prefer the longer, touring ride rather than the hammerhead, lung busters in which I now participate each Tuesday.

Whatever the case, it’s a hobby I’d like to pass down to my children, if we’re fortunate enough to have them. Just like in A River Runs Through It, the father passed down his passion to his sons. My Dad did the same, I think, with backpacking. For as long as I’ve known him, he has been fascinated with mountains, knowing their names and wondering if he has what it takes to get to the top. When he would take my brothers and me with him, he’d point out and name the ones he planned to conquer if he hadn’t already and the ones to which he hoped to take us.

In a few weeks, I’ll be going on another such trip with Dad. Both of us will be looking to discover if we have what it takes to stand atop 14,505-foot Mount Whitney, the tip of which represents the highest point in the lower 48 states. I see myself, as well as Nicki who also shares a love for being outside in high places, taking our children to various apexes. I think I’d like my distinct take on this passage to include time with my kids and allen wrenches, and maybe trips like this.

Whatever this hobby looks like in the future, I hope to improve upon Norman’s experience from the movie. I hope that I won’t be left to ride the big rides alone. I mean to make it so.

Il est a l'heur pour Le Tour

2009-07-01T12:20:00.004-04:00

There are three key personalities that are responsible for creating my obsession with the bicycle: Cheer, Lance and Le Tour.

Dad was a big fan of Greg LeMond, the first American Tour de France winner, and he bought his first serious road bike around the time LeMond won the last of his three Grand Boucles in 1990. It was 9 years later that Dad drew me into the sport, fascinated by a former phenom turned miracle Tour winner riding for a no-name team in 1999.

Dad referred me to the books, and I found a hero. While there are plenty of things about Lance that are less than savory, I undoubtedly admire this man's ability to figure out what he wants, and to go for it. That tends to be a trait, I think, of people who have been pushed to the edge of something bigger than themselves. In Lance's case, it was death, which dwarfs Mount Ventoux and L'Alpe d'Huez. They guy figured out that in order to maximize his life, he needed to recognize and prioritize what really mattered to him. I like that, and I do that. And like Lance, I want to help others do the same thing.

My fascination with the man turned into a fascination with the peloton. There is not a sport, that I have found, that has more personality. In order to be successful, you have to understand yourself and you have to understand others. There is not a greater community sport. Nowhere have I found competitors respecting and helping each other in ways that cyclists do.

This is the best example I can think of. Ulrich essentially had a chance to win the Tour here, and finally eclipse the man to whom he had finished second multiple times since winning the 1997 Tour. But because of Ulrich's respect for Lance, the sport, and in an effort to repay a similar act Lance had made in an earlier race, Ulrich slowed, and gave Lance a chance to recover.

Cyclists share pizza, we share beer, we share bottles, we share wheels, we share effort. Our best friends here in Jackson are our paceline partners. I expect something similar will happen in our next town.

All this to say, Le Tour de France depart Samedi a 8 heur. Vous pouvez le regarder aux Etats Unis a Versus. Vive Le Tour!

Granola Bars!

2009-06-12T10:21:00.003-04:00

Recently, I decided that it was time to start making all the things I have wanted to make for a long time but always put off for one reason or another. A few months ago, it was smoothies. I am still on a smoothie kick—they are SOOOO good! Throw together some yogurt, orange juice, and whatever fruit is around, and you have a great recovery drink after a ride or just an afternoon snack. Charles just brought home some peaches, and I can’t wait to add them this afternoon! Then, a few weeks ago, I finally made the chocolate chip cookies we’ve been craving for months. The best part about these is leaving some of the dough raw in the fridge to snack on. We have some in there now that we plan to cook tonight, but I just might finish it at lunch! (just kidding, love, I will save you some!) Finally, I decided to make my own granola bars, something I have been wanting to do for at least a year ever since I discovered how many bad things are in store bought bars—is it really necessary to have that much sugar and partially hydrogenated stuff in them? I think not.

Wednesday I made a trip to one of my favorite places in Jackson: Rainbow Natural Grocery. All those bins of dried fruit and nuts and various types of flours just inspire me to want to try something new. I loaded up with dried mangoes, dates, apricots, some sort of green seeds (pumpkin maybe?), almonds, and honey, and last night I threw it all together into my first ever granola bar creation. I’m so pleased with the result! Charles enjoyed some with his coffee this morning and said that he would even bring these on a bike ride as an energy bar. Here is the recipe if you want to try them too!

2 cups regular oats, not instant
1 cup flour (I used unbleached all purpose but you can also try wheat)
¼ cup brown sugar (I might leave this out next time because they are pretty sweet)
½ cup wheat germ
1 tsp cinnamon
½ tsp salt
1 egg, beaten
½ cup vegetable oil
½ cup honey
2 tsp vanilla

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9 x 13 baking pan (I did mine in a glass pan).
2. Combine all dry ingredients. To these, I added almonds, dates, chopped dried apricots, and the pumpkin seeds. I meant to add the mangoes, but I accidentally ate them all! Oops. You can also add things like craisins or raisins, other types of nuts, dried papaya, dried apples or bananas, other seeds like flax or sunflower, chocolate chips, etc…
3. In a small bowl, beat the egg. Pour in the oil, honey, and vanilla and stir. One little trick: use the same measuring cup for oil and honey, but do the oil first. Then, when you put the honey in it, the oil that’s left in there keeps most of the honey from sticking. I like easy clean up. To the wet ingredients, you can also add peanut butter or mashed up bananas or my favorite: FIGS!! I can't wait to pick figs this summer--only about another month.
4. Make a well in the dry ingredients and pour in the wet. Stir well.
5. Dump into the greased baking pan, spreading evenly and pressing it in with your hands to pack it in and make it all stick together well.
6. Bake for about 22-25 minutes or until the edges begin to brown. Let cool for a few minutes, but be sure to cut them before they cool completely because they harden as they cool. I think they're good cold, but I think they'd be fine sitting out too.

ENJOY!

Heatwave Triathlon

2009-06-11T17:10:00.010-04:00

This past Saturday and Sunday were the type of days that I wish we could have every weekend. We've had some good weekends lately, but this past one was especially blessed. We managed to include almost all of my favorite things: time with friends and alone with the hubby, homemade pizza, cookie dough (eaten raw straight from the mixing bowl), 24 (finished Season 3!!), naps, walks, AMAZING weather, time by the reservoir (I love water!), and my favorite part: the Heatwave Triathlon. I have been looking forward to this event since we did it last year as our first triathlon. I think Charles was pretty excited about it too. We have both been feeling really strong lately, so we were looking forward to seeing if all this training would pay off. It did, and we were quite pleased with our results! I ended up 2nd in my age group and 15th out of about 95 women, and Charles finished 17th in his ultra-competitive age group of 47! We both improved our times from last year. It was a super day. Here are some pictures:

This is the “it is 4:45am” face. I am sometimes a bit too excited about life in the morning. He is getting used to letting me do crazy things like take pictures of him as he is trying to pack the car and “make funny noises” (this is what he calls it when I am talking and he is not listening, just hearing the “noise”…) while he is just trying to have some peace and quiet driving to the race. What can I say? I (most days) wake up ready to go! I have a bad case of what we call the "morning crazies." Exercise in the morning intensifies this disorder.

Here’s the swim start. I wanted to get a picture of his wave beginning (he was in wave 1 and I was in wave 4 so I figured I’d have plenty of time), but they shooed me out of the transition area before his wave began. The swim surprised both of us by its length (and by the fact that wetsuits were legal...huh? Wetsuits in Mississippi in JUNE?? Crazy weather. I thought the water felt great). I consider myself a fairly strong swimmer, and I came out of the water feeling a bit tired already and ready for a second breakfast! I was also surprised to see that it took me 18:02 when I did it in 12:44 last year…only to find out later that this year’s was long for a ½ mile and last year’s was short! I knew something must have been up with the distance because last year I spent at least 30 seconds trying to navigate around breast stroke dude who had given up swimming free style in favor of a stroke that left his legs flailing everywhere, including my face! Thankfully, both of us survived the swim both years without getting kicked or losing goggles. I love open water swimming but definitely need to practice more. Anyone want to go swim with me and the alligators in the rez?

On to the bike. The weather was PERFECT! It felt so good to be wet from the swim and on the bike in 70 degree weather. Unfortunately, my number attachment skills were less than perfect, so I spent at least the first 2 miles trying to keep my number (twisty-tied to my top tube and seat tube) from rubbing my left leg with every pedal stroke. Finally, I managed to reach behind to detach the seat tube twisty tie and pull my number forward on the top tube so I could crumple it and tuck in under my water bottle. This worked great until I needed a drink and had to reposition again. Alas, live and learn. We both had solid efforts on the bike. Charles averaged 22.2mph and I did 21.3mph. I was quite pleased with my new bike! This was my first race on it (well, first triathlon, I have done 2 small time trials). I think we’re going to make a great team, me and the Lightspeed. Now I must think of a name for him/her.

And finally, the run. This was the best I have ever felt running after being on a bike, and Charles certainly ran well too, missing his 10k PR by only 2 seconds! He averaged 7:24 minute miles and I just barely achieved my goal of breaking 8 minute miles by running 7:57s. I am determined to get my run faster. Part of my problem is that I have been happily trotting along at 8 minute miles for years now, and it is going to HURT to get faster. I have a love/hate relationship with speedwork—it hurts a lot but certainly improves times. However, Charles and I ran a 10k this morning more than a minute faster than I did in the race, so I know I have it in me. I have also enjoyed 3+ years without any running injuries and am therefore a bit hesitant to change what’s been working! The other problem with triathlons and running is that I HATE running when it is hot (and I consider anything over about 50 degrees to be “hot” when running…)—my heart rate just goes through the roof and I get so thirsty! My averaged heart rate for the whole 2+ hours of this race was 171bpm, so I can’t imagine when it would have been if it had been hotter! We’ll find out at our next tri at the end of July, the Heart of Dixie. All in all, it was such a fun race, and I can’t wait for the next!

Afterwards, we got to hang out by the reservoir for a birthday party for Caroline, the one year old daughter of one of Charles’s classmates (Caroline and Charles have regular play dates on Fridays while he is working the front desk and Caroline’s mom sees clients—he gets especially excited about finding Muppet songs on YouTube and singing along with them!) Saturday finished off with a stellar, much needed nap, a good pizza dinner, lots of raw cookie dough, and the movie Shrek. Fun times.

Sunday we went to church and then had a wonderful recovery ride, just the two of us on the Natchez Trace, riding along without any computer to know how fast we were going, just enjoying the views. Sometimes drivers on the Trace scare me to death (it is supposed to be a SCENIC HIGHWAY people, not an interstate!), but it is worth the risk to get to ride by the water (except on those crazy windy days). So that was our weekend—one of my favorites so far this year. It was a great time to enjoy life and realize how much we have to be thankful for.

Oh, and one more thing to celebrate: CHARLES FINISHED HIS 500 CLINICAL HOURS TODAY!!! HOORAY!!!

JMC TT Series: Race 1 results

2009-05-01T16:49:00.002-04:00

The first Jackson Metro Cyclists Individual Time Trial Series race was this past week. Here are the results, broken down by category:

Advanced
1. Frank Moak 14:20
2. Stacey Eckerson 14:53
3. Bo Bourne 15:10

Intermediate
1. Jeff Finch 16:42
2. Brandon Willmoth 16:42
3. Charles Shepard 16:50
4. David Church 16:51
5. Jason Horne 17:25

Women
1. Nicki Shepard 18:16

Nicki and I both reached our time goals. She wanted to break 19 minutes. I wanted to go under 17. She averaged 22.38 mph over the 6.8 mile course in Madison County. I averaged 24.23. I think our next goals include, for me, hitting 25 mph average, and for Nicki, just getting some other ladies out to participate.

The Silent Partner Finds a Voice

2009-04-27T15:58:00.039-04:00

Well friends, it has been far too long since we have posted updates, so I (Nicki, aka the “Silent Partner”) decided to take it upon myself to give you a brief summary of our year so far. This may end up being more of a pictorial update as I am more of a photographer than a blogger, but hey, something is better than nothing, right?

Overall, we have had a great start to this year. Charles has been knocking out his 500 clinical hours and has less than 50 relational hours remaining. Whatever he has been doing to convince his clients to keep coming back seems to be working! In all seriousness, he is truly enjoying his clinical work, and it is obvious that he is very gifted in the therapy room. He will complete his spring semester coursework in the next few weeks, leaving only one hour of academic work to finish this summer. It is an exciting yet somewhat anxiety-producing time for us as we realize the end is fast approaching! We have been exploring some job opportunities in Virginia and will keep you posted as we get more definite direction regarding our future plans.

The biggest update for me has been my recent confirmation that I do in fact want to pursue a career in therapy, specifically equine therapy. When I finished my therapy degree 2 years ago, I was burned out and just wasn’t sure that God was calling me to do therapy, hence my current job in Career and Academic Development. For awhile, I was thinking that continuing to work in higher education might be the best fit for me. However, over spring break, I got the opportunity to spend my days off shadowing at a barn here that does equine therapy called Equine Healing Solutions. They had a group of eight guys come out who were all in treatment for drug/alcohol dependency. In a nutshell, equine therapy is an experiential form of therapy using the horse to facilitate sessions with all work done on the ground (no riding involved). Horses have a unique ability to mirror human emotions, so the horse’s behavior in response to the client provides a starting point for processing what’s going on with the client (for example, if you’re scared or angry, the horse behaves much differently than when you’re relaxed). The client’s relationship with the horse becomes a key part of the therapy. It was amazing to me what came up in these sessions! Having grown up riding horses, I see this as the perfect way to unite my love for these animals and the outdoors with my passion to help people heal through therapy. I know I’ve been pretty vague here, but I’d love to tell more about this type of therapy—just ask!

Apparently I had more to say than I thought! Before I get carried away, I will post some pictures of our adventures so far this year.

Tuesday, January 13th marked our two year anniversary! I was a bridesmaid in my friend Katie’s wedding the following weekend (she was also a bridesmaid in our wedding), so Charles and I thought we’d just celebrate our anniversary while we were in Atlanta. I searched long and hard through all the bed and breakfasts in the Atlanta area using two main criteria: reasonable cost and a nice Jacuzzi tub. I finally found Laurel Hill Bed and Breakfast. It was delightful.

Team Blessed Endurance made its first race appearance at the Run Thru History 10k on Saturday, March 7th in Vicksburg. Our lack of running specific training coupled with the unusually hot weather resulted in less than impressive times, but we enjoyed the course as always, and Charles especially enjoyed the free beer at the end! The next weekend we posted more impressive race results at the Warhawk Triathlon in Monroe, LA, where I won my age group and Charles placed 5th in his ultra competitive age group! This race got us super excited for the start of triathlon season. Our next race will be the Heatwave Triathlon on June 6th in Ridgeland, MS.

We continued the endurance trend on April 11th by completing the Natchez Trace Century Ride with an average speed of close to 21mph! We then spent the rest of the weekend trying to replace the 5,000+ calories that we burned by having a homemade pizza party with our cycling buddies on Saturday night and a potluck Easter dinner with good friends from church and RTS on Sunday. I even made homemade yeast dinner rolls for the first time for this special occasion.

The weekend of April 18th marked another significant endurance event for us: a marathon viewing of Season 1 of 24! We knocked out 18 or the 24 episodes that weekend, and finished the season this past Saturday. I think I am addicted. I have to confess that I had some anxiety come up this past Wednesday when it occurred to me that we would not be able to continue watching it for THREE DAYS due to our busy schedules! Can't wait to start Season 2...

This past weekend we drove up to Oxford, MS, for the Double Decker Festival. We rode the 66 mile bike ride Saturday morning, but I think Charles mainly went to get one of the legendary ice cream sandwiches that was “as big as his face.” He finished not only his, but also about half of mine! I was very impressed.

Well, that about sums up our year so far! We are looking forward to the other adventures 2009 will bring, and we will try to update more often! For now, I'll leave you with some pictures of the beautiful spring we've had this year.

Redemptive themes in Scripture and my life

2009-02-03T09:37:00.007-05:00

I've set out on a new goal this year to read the Bible from cover to cover before Dec. 31. I have this sense that I've probably read every book, but I'm not entirely sure. I know for a fact that I've not read them with an eye toward the big picture. To this point, I've read the individual books of the Bible with an eye toward what the specific book revealed about God, but I have not paid attention to what the Biblical narrative as a whole has revealed about God.

I'm following Bible Gateway's chonological plan. I think it's different enough to hold my attention. At least it has been for the first 34 days of the year (I know, it's not quite a tenth of the calendar, so I suppose that's not much of an endorsement). I'm reading Scripture with an eye toward the redemptive theme throughout. While Jesus' death and resurrection are the ultimate redemptive story, it's not the only redemptive story in Scripture. Each one points toward the Cross and the Stone rolled away.

I've read through Job, where I read what I believe is God's treatise for counselors -- first how not to do it (2:11-31:40) and then how to do it (32-42). Today, I'm approaching the end of Genesis, and I'm in the midst of reading about Joseph and his complex family system;)

I have been struck this morning by the redemptive theme in Joseph's story (Genesis 37-50), particularly when it comes to the preservation of God's chosen people. If you're not familiar with the story, Joseph was favored by his father Jacob (a.k.a. Israel), and IMO had more than a hint of arrogance in his youth. He was a dreamer of dreams that didn't forebode well for the rest of his family (Gen. 37:1-11). He had the gall to tell his 10 older brothers about them, and they predictably resented him for it. In an effort to deal with their resentment, they turned on Joseph and sold him into slavery. He ended up in Egypt, serving Pharaoh's captain of the guard.

Well, dreaming, or at least the interpretation thereof, turns out to serve Joseph well while he is in Egypt. An interpretation of a couple of Pharaoh's ominous dreams about impending famine in the country helps Joseph find favor with the king and, thus, a high position in government. When famine strikes the region, Joseph's brothers come to Egypt to buy the food and provisions the country has stored in response to the warnings of the Pharaoh's dreams.

Genesis 45:4-5ff is a strikingly beautiful passage for it's redemptive themes. "Do not be distressed or angry with yourselves because you sold me here, for God has sent me before you to preserve life..."

God redeems his people using the sin of his people and making good out of it. God has taken an event marked distinctly by the brokenness and sin of his people and used it to give not only a good gift, but to give his best. The pattern reminds me of a terrible breakup I once had, marked by sin on my part and the part of others. However, God has used that event to grow me and to preserve me for Nicki, whom I believe is God's provision for me, and I for her.

But most of all, Joseph's story reminds me of the Cross. An event marked distinctly by the sin of God's chosen people and used not only to give a good gift, but The Atonement.

I'm at a loss for words. Thank God he has given me his.

A comment on comments

2009-01-26T19:38:00.002-05:00

Hey gang, love comments on this blog. I'd like it to be a place where differing opinions can come together peacefully. I'm into the idea that peaceful discourse heightens awareness to different perspectives, and thus encourages emotional, spiritual, even political growth.

That being said, I think the anonymous comment at the end of this post lacked a peaceful bent. I think it did more to take away from growth than encourage it.

In the future, I will not publish anonymous posts that do not include a name or a way to make contact in the body of the comment.

Leaving a post, especially when it is aggressively combative, without a name is cowardly. Such practice denies the victim a chance to defend him or herself, revealing the fears of the attacker. It smacks of bullying, not to mention inhibitive of a progressive process.

Review/Preview (UPDATED)

2009-01-05T12:34:00.018-05:00

Friends, despite the best efforts at Blessed Endurance to maintain consistency, the only constant of this academic endeavor is that at the end of each semester I find myself burried by books. It has taken me more than a month to climb out from under the mountain of paper. The graded results so far have been more than favorable, which has encouraged me to pick up the pen again for the first entry of the new year.

Reviewing the past year seems to be the chic thing to do. Nicki and I played a game during our drive home between Tuscaloosa and Meridian trying to remember all the big events of 2008. I'll see if I can't record them here. Prepare yourselves, we had a VERY busy 2008:

Jan 1: Flew home to Jackson from Richmond, Va., where we spent Christmas, dropped everything at the door, turned on the TV and watched Marcus Howard flatten Colt Brennan, then fall on the loose ball in the end zone fueling Georgia's 41-10 throttling of Hawaii in the Sugar Bowl.

Jan. 5: Nicki and I finished the innaugural Mississippi Blues Half-Marathon in 1:46 or so. Nicki took third in the women's 20-24 age group.

Jan. 11-13: Nicki and I celebrated our first anniversary with a weeekend at Mt. Cheeaha State Park in Alabama. We rode our bikes 40 miles on the 12th, with a mountain-top finish at the highest point in that state. We also enjoyed a maginificent sunset and a killer steak. On the 13th, the date of the best wedding ever (just ask anyone who was there), we rode 66 miles from Anniston to the Georgia state line and back along the Chief Ladiga Trail (a rails-to-trails project).

Jan. 19: It snowed in Jackson for the first time in seven years, but that didn't deter us from taking a 40-mile bike ride. The slippery roads didn't treat Nicki well however. She took her first spill while making a turn at the half-way point and separated her left shoulder. But the chick exhibited her unparalleled toughness. She declined a SAG vehicle and rode the remaining 20 miles back to the car despite not being able to shift gears with her left hand.

Week of Jan. 21: I got two traffic tickets, both for running stop signs. The first was legit, I rolled right through it. There was no one coming in either direction, but I failed to notice the JPD car in my rearview mirror. The second happened on Nicki's birthday, the 27th. I was on my way back from a men's retreat in the budding metropolis of Goodman, Miss., when a cop swore that I didn't come to a complete stop at one of the municipality's two stop signs. The next month I challenged the ticket in court and won.

Feb. 4: Our nearly two-year battle with the IRS came to a close. Thanks to Nicki's steadfastness, we stuck with our challenge that we did not owe the federal government nearly $1,000, and they finally got their stuff together. Much reason to celebrate.

Feb. 14: Valentines' Day was hot.

Feb. 24: Nicki and I competed in our first USCF-sactioned time trial. Nicki was third and I was second in our respective categories.

March 1: Nicki started off the year with a PR at the Run Through History 10K at the Vicksburg military park. It was during this month that Nicki also started making bread, pizza crust and became obsessed with yoga.

March 8: We suffered through our first USCF mass start -- the Rouge-Roubaix X, 100 miles of road race, 30 miles of which were on gravel roads. I was in a world of hurt after this one, but neither of us died. We're proud of that.

March 15: Nicki and I raced the Spring Into Action 40K TT. Again, Nicki kicked butt, finishing second among the women.

March 20-23: WE WENT TO NEW YORK CITY !

March 29-31: We made our final push for the Business and Professional Outreach Golf Marathon fund raiser. We spent all day in the RTS admissions office printing letters and envelopes. The marathon was on the 31st, a Monday, and featured several teams of golfers and caddies playing 100 holes of golf in 8 hours. I did such a good job as the coordinator that the didn't ask me to do it again. They did ask Nicki to be the administrator, but she had so much fun doing it she turned them down.

April 5-6: Ate a bunch of crawfish at The O'Dell's, then paid for it the next day at the Cuba Road Race -- an 80 mile hill-fest in Cuba, Ala. The results aren't posted, but I wouldn't show them to you anyway. Never wanted to get off the bike so bad in my life.

April 12: We spent this weekend apart. Nicki was in Charlottesville, Va., for a Jubilate Reunion; I went to Bossier City, La., (pronouced Bozier City) for my first stage race, which included my first criterium, and I finished 11th overall.

April 19: We went to Brookhaven, Miss., for the Mississippi Grand Prix stage race. Nicki was sick, and she didn't enjoy the event. I felt fine and improved on the previous weekend with a sixth-place overall finish.

May 10-17: Nicki and I started training for our first triathlon and completed our first brick workout -- we rode bikes on the Natchez Trace, then followed it up with a 3-mile run. As if that wasn't a full day, we jumped in the car and drove to Dauphin Island, Ala., to spend a week at the beach with my parents. We ate a ton of oysters.

May 30-June 3: Nicki went to a conference and I went down, twice. But I did get some good mail.

June 7: We completed our first triathlon. Nicki won some hardware, but we didn't know it until later because we rushed home, jumped in the car and drove to Birminham for Todd Carlton's wedding. Upon returning home the next day, we discovered that our apartment had turned into a zoo.

June 13-15: Left Mississippi again to go camping with Dad and Ben for Father's Day. It was a weekend full of highlights, not the least of which was driving 500-plus miles on one tank of gas because I didn't exceed 55 mph the whole way.

June 20: I started bike commuting, and risked my life for a few photos.

July 4: We went east again! This time to Atlanta for the Peachtree Road Race. Coincidentally, our friends Katy Yak and Tim Larson got engaged with fireworks a-blastin' o'erhead. July also marked the beginning of Nicki's fig fascination and her job teaching GRE and ACT prep for Kaplan.

July 10: We finally turned the air conditioner on.

August 16-17: Had more misery in Cuba. Spent the next three weeks sick.

Sept. 6: Skipped my 10-year high school reunion, partially because I was sick, partially because of the threat of a hurricane.

Sept 13: Went to Harrisonburg, Va., to see Sarah Capstack (a bridesmaid in our wedding and a college roommate of Nicki's) get married.

UPDATED -- Sept 15-16: Nicki was summoned to jury duty for the first time. She never sat on a jury. She begged off and was allowed to go back to work on the second day. I tried to explain to her that jury duty is an excuse NOT to work, but that didn't seem to jive with my overachieving better half.

Sept. 27: Fell back to earth with the rest of the Bulldawg Nation thanks to Nick Satan.

Oct. 11: Set a new beer-drinking record with Josh while we watched Georgia beat Tennessee.

Oct. 16-18: Nicki had a bad saddle sore that she popped. We skipped a ride on the Longleaf Trace that Saturday due to the residual pain of this unfortunate condition.

Oct. 26: The Trophy Wife did it again at the LAMBRA TT Championships. This was also my last significant weekend on the bike for a few weeks while I worked on school projects.

Nov. 1: Watched Florida hammer Georgia with a bunch of Florida fans. Bad idea.

Nov. 4: Voted for and welcomed the President Elect. The next day was also my last post of the year; way to early for that to happen.

UPDATED -- Nov. 10: Nicki bought at dryer belt and found her second calling as a dryer-repair woman. This might have been the most impressed I've ever been with her. I had taken the dryer apart the day before to see what the problem was, when I got home late the next night, it was fixed and drying towels. Coincidentally on the same day, Nicki joined the "I got caught on camera turning right on red without coming to a complete stop in downtown Jackson" club (on her way back to work after buying the dryer belt). Club dues of $75 were paid.

Nov. 22: Rode 85 miles on the Longleaf Trace. (You didn't think we were just going to give up on this, did you?)

Nov. 25: Turned in my last paper of the semester.

Nov. 26-30: Thanksgiving weekend in Ellijay, Ga., with my folks and a large contingent of the Henderson/Pounds clan.

Dec. 6: Nicki sang in the Belhaven College Singing Christmas Tree -- the oldest such event in the country.

UPDATED -- Dec. 8: Turned in my last finals, two take-home exams.

Dec. 20: Left for the holidays, spent in both Ga., and Va., but mostly with Nicki's folks in Richmond.

Dec. 23: Met with The League of Therapists in Charlottesville, where I was told I'm "very hirable."

Dec. 25: Christmas! Woke up at 8 a.m. (which is late for me on this day), and had to be tied up in the basement while the rest of Nicki's family slowly rose from slumber before opening presents. Then Nicki and I went on a 60-mile bike ride.

Dec. 31: Met for two hours with Mike Flynn of Christian Counseling Associates in Richmond to guage his interest in a married pair of therapists. Received an e-mail later in the day telling us that he hoped "it works out for you both to join CCA ..." We celebrated the great news and the coming new year with a tapas party at the home of our friends the Schnutes.

So there it is. Quite a year, I'd say. What would this post be, however, without a preview into the next? Well a few things are for sure: 1.) More school, more endorphins, more posts and more fun.

The Year 2009 promises to bring the completion of my Master of Arts in Marriage and Family Therapy between July and August. From there, we hope to move to Virginia to start new careers there. As you can see, we have had some encouraging responses during our preliminary job hunting.

We had far more tears of laughter in 2008 than tears of pain. Looking forward to keeping that trend going.

My President, your President

2008-11-05T10:55:00.003-05:00

The country woke up this morning with a new President Elect, and I think it's safe to say that it's a big deal.

I'm hopeful that good things are to come for the United States, both for its citizens and for its role in the international community.

This hope has less to do with health care reform and economic policy as it has to do with this. I grew more and more cynical of both candidates' plans to ensure more Americans could afford health care and more Americans could keep their house toward the end of the campaign, but I believed Barack Obama when he said he would listen to us, even when we disagree with him. I think that's good for relations at home and abroad. John McCain did not convince me he would do that in a way in which I felt understood, or in a way in which the world felt understood.

So I'm happy with the President Elect. He was my choice. At this point I'm willing to stick by that choice for better or for worse. When we disagree with our national leader, his apparent willingness to accept our influence encourages me.

The Trophy Wife adds to her haul

2008-10-27T17:24:00.004-05:00

ROCKY SPRINGS, Miss. -- I like to joke that Nicki is my trophy wife.

Since the beginning of the year, she has taken home swag from the Mississippi Blues Half-Marathon (third in the women's 20-24), Twin City Cyclists 20K TT (third woman overall), Spring Into Action 40K TT (second woman overall), Run Through History 10K (third in women's 25-29 and fifth woman overall), Heatwave Classic Triathlon (third in womens' 25-29) and the Cuba-Meridian Challenge Women's Road Race (fifth overall). We've had to make even more display room on the bookshelf after this weekend.

Nicki finished second on Sunday at the Louisiana and Mississippi Bicycle Racing Association Individual Time Trial Championships in women's category 4. She caught and passed the woman who started a minute ahead of her.

She was a little bummed that there were only three in the category. But if you look at her time from the Spring Into Action race, which was done on the same course, and her time from Sunday, you'll notice that she was second there, too, and she shaved more than two minutes off her time this weekend. That's a big deal.

Nicki was also a little bummed that the woman who started a minute behind her caught her and passed her on the line. But Vivian Torres rode a great race, as she has often done this season. In fact, Vivian won the LAMBRA season championship, based on points earned at all the races on the calendar. Nicki placed 15th. Not bad for a gal in her first year racing bicycles, and who raced in just four LAMBRA events all year.

Maybe I'm bragging a bit, but it's nice to know that there are results to back up a proud husband.

Oh, and did I mention I think she's REALLY FREAKIN' HOT?

Footnote:
I finished fourth Sunday, just out of the medals. I met my time goal, which was around 1:06:52 (actually I wanted 1:06:45, but who's really going to sweat seven seconds?). It was fun. It hurt. And it was great to be in the shadow of greatness.

Finale: Contre le montre

2008-10-21T16:20:00.004-04:00

Rocky Springs TT
Find more Bike Rides in Hermanville, Mississippi

Nicki and I have spent the past few weeks training our bodies and prepping our bikes for the final Louisiana and Mississippi Bike Racing Association event of the year: The LAMBRA Individual Time Trial Championships.

The ITT, or race against the clock, starts at 8 a.m. Sunday in Rocky Springs, Miss., on the Natchez Trace.

It's a big deal for both of us because it's most likely our last competition of the year in any discipline, and we want to go out with some momentum toward next season. We raced this course in March during a different event. We'd both like to improve upon those results, even though Nicki had a pretty good day. She has a shot to finish in the money on Sunday.

We've done some TT-specific workouts, like single-leg work -- where you alternate which leg is driving the bike, focusing on pulling up on the pedal as well as pushing down -- and tempo rides. Our hearts, legs and lungs should be in better condition.

To overcome the obstacles we face, unfortunately, we will have to depend on circumstances largely out of our control. First of all, the wind on the Trace can be brutal. On an out-and-back course, the wind is certainly your friend in one direction and your worst enemy in the other. I blew up way early in March because the wind was blowing south to north. I think I averaged around 15 mph on the way out and better than 25 mph on the way back. I felt pretty terrible. The weather for Sunday calls for very cool temps, and a 7 mph wind out of the WNW. That's a strong wind on the bike, and it looks like it might be a cross wind ... the worst possible scenario. It appears the wind will fight us the entire race.

I'll be fighting with a weapon I didn't have seven months ago: A better bike. The first time on this course, I rode my 1999 steel-frame LeMond Vegas City, a bike designed more for comfort riding than racing. Sunday, I'll be on an aluminum-frame Cervelo Soloist-Team, a bike engineered for racing, with angles and tubing better designed for time trials, and weighing several pounds less than the older LeMond. It's a bike lent to me by our team, Absolute Racing.

Nicki will be on her Trek 1000, the bike on which she rode to second in March. We're in the process of working lots of overtime and saving up to buy her a Soloist. With out team membership, because it's a non-profit organization, we can buy the bike at cost, saving hundreds of dollars. So if you think she's fast now ...

If y'all are in town on Saturday, come out and watch. Directions from Jackson: Take I-20 West to the Natchez Trace. Go South about 35 miles and park at the Rocky Springs pull-out area. Bring breakfast, some coffee, a blanket and a loud voice.

Scaring up some votes?

2008-10-20T21:22:00.003-04:00

I find it difficult to put my outrage over this political ad into words.

In an effort to win votes, Roger Wicker, a republican vying to keep Trent Lott's abandoned seat in the U.S. Senate, has put this ad on the air here in Mississippi. The caricature of gay rights makes my blood boil.

Dressing two guys up in fetish costumes as if they represent the gay community is demeaning, insensitive and ignorent. It is nothing but a lame attempt to expose the fears of voters and exploit them.

I think the meat of this fictional speech sums up my argument to some degree. Wicker has picked several issues that many Mississippians don't fully understand, which leads to their fear. He makes a point of suggesting who is to blame for their fears and attaching those to blame with his opponent, former Mississippi governor Ronnie Musgrove.

Now, I'm not saying that Musgrove is a good candidate either. But it disturbs me that there is a theory that votes can be won by playing on the fears of the constituancy, and that this theory is viable enough for a candidate to spend money on an ad aimed at just that. Furthermore, I see and hear evidence that Christians fall so easily into this trap. I believe we're called to a higher standard to have compassion on all people -- we are united by our brokeness to some degree -- and to be curious about the experiences and struggles of others.

"We have not been given a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, and of love, and of self discipline" (2 Timothy 1:7). Argue with me all you want about context here, but take the general truth with you: Don't give in to fear tactics, in politics or life in general. Take the time to understand others who are different from you and have compassion for yourself and others. That kind of attitude will help lay the foundation for a more peaceful and Christlike world.

Blog Action Day: The economics of community mental health

2008-10-15T10:13:00.009-04:00

At the Center for Marriage & Family Therapy I meet with people daily who directly experience the challenges of living in poverty, whether it be financial, spiritual, emotional, etc. I have a unique opportunity to help people dealing with low socioeconomic status in what hopefully turns out to be long-term, emotion-focused help.

There is a great need for this approach to helping those of low SES. I don't have any hard numbers, but a look around our lobby will tell you that people need emotional therapy whether they can afford it or not. Our center is run by students doing their clinical internship, thus we're able to offer our services at a vastly reduced rate. On our sliding scale, clients who earn less than $15,000 per year are asked to pay $15 per session. They also are offered the opportunity to apply for a grant if they wish to drop the fee an additional $5. (Unofficially, some of us drop fees to as low as $5 per session.) At our lowest point, we offer services at an 80-percent discount compared to the lowest fees offered by private practitioners in the area, many of whom receive insurance reimbursements.

But it's not nearly enough. We are loosely connected to Warren-Yazoo Mental Health, a community mental health center that covers a region of Northwest Mississippi from Vicksburg to the Delta, which is one of the poorest regions in the entire country. The center is run by an RTS graduate, and many of our graduates take their first mental health job at the center. The client load of an individual therapist can run as high as 40.

If you do the math, in order for each client to be served for one hour per week, the therapist must see clients for 8 hours per day, five days per week. On the surface, that seems reasonable I guess. However, when you consider each therapist needs time to do essential work outside of the therapy room, it is much less reasonable. When will the therapist write session notes? Many of these community mental health therapists are not yet licenses, but when will they have time to receive the supervision required by law? Sadly, the client goes underserved because the supply of helpers does not meet the demand.

Not surprisingly, these young therapists quickly experience burn out. Often friends who have gone to work in community mental health have told me they have grown disenchanted with the process because they are spread so thin they have lost confidence in their ability to deliver real, effectual emotional help. It's a reflection of the condition of their clients. People get stuck in poverty because they lose hope that they can get out. (The scenarios that produce the hamster wheel of poverty are too numerous for this post, but this is a great resource for continuing the discussion.)

The difference is that the therapists have a way out: Licensure. Because the client loads are so high, young therapists in community mental health achieve their post-graduate clinical hours required for licensure quickly, pass the licensure exam, then get the heck out of community mental health and into another area, usually private practice. It's like young teachers who go to work in urban areas to start their career then take jobs in suburban schools ASAP. The clients usually don't have such a viable option for escape.

The more popular images of serving those of low (or no) SES are of soup kitchens, clothing and food drives around holidays, etc. These are great. Let's keep doing those things.

But it is not enough to meet the short-term necessities of people. Poverty is a long-term, emotionally crippling condition; effectual help requires long-term commitment. What would it be like for YOU -- the young therapist, the veteran therapist, the young member of the community, the veteran member of the commuity -- to consider a more developed interest to serving those of low SES? It can be a complex process; just ask Delena and Jeremy, both RTS grads and current and former community mental health practitioners.

But serving the low SES can be simple, too. I have appointments with to pre-adolescent boys tomorrow. With one I'm putting together a model car. With the other I'm going to throw the football or shoot hoops. They need a positive gender-specific presence in their lives. I think I can do that. I think YOU can do that, too, whoever and wherever you are.

Blog Action Day

2008-10-14T10:23:00.002-04:00

Blog Action Day is October 15 (tomorrow).

My friend Kari, who, along with her silent partner, may have the greatest blog in the known universe, sent me the invite. I'm trying to pass the word along here.

So, if you have a blog, click the above or below links. Check it out. See the topic. Blog away tomorrow, October 15, Blog Action Day.

I'm such a dipstick

2008-10-14T09:25:00.003-04:00

Nicki and I have been on this do-it-yourself kick this year.

She started it all with bread. She was tired of reading the nutrition labels on bread at the grocery store and seeing ingredients she didn't like. So, with a little inspiration from Emily O'Dell, she started making it at home, by hand. The endeavor started as sour dough and has developed into whole-wheat loaves, bagels and, my personal favorite, whole-wheat pizza crust. It's a weekly tradition to turn our kitchen into a bakery/pizzaria.

My do-it-yourself endeavor is a little more greasy. We were a little cash-strapped this summer, and I was looking for ways to cut spending (trying to see if such a thing was really possible by anyone in an election year). Being similarly inspired by Emily's husband Brian, I started changing the oil in our cars. In the process I've discovered how satisfying it can be to have some direct influence on caring for machines that we own (yay, we love paid-off vehicles).

But, boy, does it hurt. It took me a few oil changes, but now I think I have all the tools I need. Now I'm looking for a little more arm strength. The wrenches ($8 at wal-mart), the oil pan (a recycling-friendly version that Brian gave me) and the filter clamp (used to unscrew the oil filter; costs $5 but so far has been functionally worthless) set the scene, but they are no match for the heat.

The temperature gets pretty hot around the oil pan and filter while the car is running, which causes the bolt that plugs the oil pan and the gasket that fastens the oil filter to heat and increase the snugness of their respective seals. Between the time I screw a new filter on and tighten the bolt during a change and when I'm ready to change the oil again, those components are virtually unmoveable. Changing the oil by hand following a change done at a service station is exponentially more tough because they have power tools that really crank those pieces into place.

It took me more than two hours on Sunday to change Nicki's oil for the first time. This is typically the case with either of our cars just because it's so hard to unscrew the bolt and old filter. We're saving between $10 and $25 each time I change the oil by hand, but I get so frustrated during the process and so tired by the end of it that Nicki wonders if it's not worth just spending the money to have a pro do it.

"Heck no!" I tell her. I plead with her that I'm learning new tricks that will help me keep my cool as well as speed things along. For instance, I've started planning multiple tasks during oil-change day. This Sunday was also bike-maintenance day (I had my mechanic's shirt on and everything), so when I got frustrated by the car, I moved over to a bike and cleaned/lubed its chain. It's a much easier process, and it allowed me to use my pent-up aggression on something productive.

Plus, Brian gave me the tip of tapping the bolt around its sides with a hammer. Somehow, the vibrations help to loosen the seal and make it easier to unscrew. In addition, I can take a long scew driver and hammer it through the filter like a nail, then using the ends of the screw driver to turn the filter like a firefighter opening a fire hydrant.

It's a much messier method, and I get a lot more oil on my hands. But that makes me feel even more like a man. It's a scientific fact: The amount of grease on your skin is directly proportionate to the amount of testosterone in your blood.

Debate brings more clarity to health care specifics

2008-10-08T09:35:00.005-04:00

During last night's debate, I heard for the first time some specifics of the platforms of both candidates' health care platforms.

A buddy of mine, Graham Garrison, a fine Bulldog and a fine writer (who was one of my R&B sports editors while at UGA), asked me this morning on FB if I thought health care was a right, a responsibility or neither. As I look back over my answer, I think, "Boy, does that sound like political rhetoric."

I said:

Hmmm. I thought that was an interesting question last night. I don't think it's a RIGHT. But not sure what it means for it to be a responsibility. Is it the the individual's responsibility or is it the government's? I think it's the individual's responsibility to find a way to budget for health care because it is a necessity; I think it's the government's job to make sure there are viable and affordable options for as many people as possible.

After hearing both Obama and McCain speak about their health care platforms last night, I think both candidates make an attempt in this direction. I think Obama's plan does a better job (cue the boos from all my health-care industry buddies).

What follows is what I heard from the candidates, and what I think about each point.

I understood Obama to say his plan will:

1.) Allow me to keep my current health care coverage if I so choose. I like this option because I still get to keep my doctor and make choices about where I receive treatment.

2.) Get rid of an insurance company's ability to withhold payment for treatment for pre-existing conditions. I like this because it just takes the edge off when switching plans, which can happen during a job switch or just finding something better. But I sure am skeptical that a bill that includes this will get past Congress because of how cost-inefficient this makes business for health care companies coupled with the strength of the health care insurance lobby.

3.) Lower my premiums. I'd like to hear more about this because I want to know from where he's going to get the money to do it. Obama talks about streamlining the budget; maybe that's where the money is going to come from. Whatever he says, it's going to require some trust from the voter that he keeps his promise. But if he can pull it off, I like it for obvious reasons (i.e., I pay less for my insurance).

4.) Give employers tax incentives for providing health care benefits.. I like this because it increases the number of people who will be able to be eligible for employer-provided plans, which means they'll be able to use untaxed money from their paycheck to pay for premiums. Where he's going to get the money, however, is still an unanswered question for me.

5.) Open federally funded insurance for those who fall through the cracks, er, I mean, fall outside employer-provided eligibility. I like it, but warry of the socialism effect (which sends shivers down my health-care industry buddies' spines), and not sure exactly how it's going to work.

6.) Fine individuals who don't pick up coverage of some sort/fine employers who don't provide coverage of some sort. I like the accountability. I'm with Obama, I think there's a better way to handle treating a child with asthma than by taking them to the emergency room. When a parent can't pay for that, it only becomes socialized medicine by default (because the cost gets passed on to those who can afford it) and at a much less cost-efficient rate. I wonder if there's not a better way to keep the public accountable than by fining them, but I'm open to the idea that there may not be a better option.

I understood McCain to say his plan will:

1. Open health care insurance up to the free market.McCain may tax the employer-provided benefits packages for the first time ever, but it appears to be a move that pushes the public toward buying coverage outside the employer framework and thus opening it up to greater influence of capitalism. This part of the plan opens health care "trading" to go beyond state lines, which apparently would streamline the number of health care companies (i.e. instead of Blue Cross Mississippi and Empire (N.Y.) Blue Cross, Blue Cross would just be Blue Cross), and force the health-care market to be more competitive with it's coverage and premium rates.

2.) Give direct and indirect tax credits for health care. McCain has proposed a $5,000 refundable tax credit for health care costs to help people go and buy their own health insurance. OK, I really like money in my pocket, and I like the accountability of refunding it only if it's used for health care. Critics have said that the average family spends $12,000 per year on health care, so the cut is not enough. Well, McCain also has proposed doubling the dependent tax deduction from $3,500 per dependent to $7,000 per dependent, which doesn't expressly say use this for money for health insurance, but it's more than enough if a family chooses to use it for health insurance. Again, I like money in my pocket; but I'm warry of the lack of accountability.

As I review the two plans as I understand them, I think my hang up lies on the accountability factor. I applaud both candidates for realizing that health care as it is ain't working and that change is needed. That said, I have very little faith in the reality that individuals and/or businesses will do the right thing for the common good. For example, Obama connected McCain's idea to open insurance across state lines with the practices of credit card companies. He said that credit card companies like to set up shop in Deleware, where there are few regulations on them and they are able to swing their practices heavily in their favor. The consumer be damned. I look at the credit mess and this parallel strikes real fear in me as far as health care companies setting up shop in a state where they become VERY powerful and the individual is even more disenfranchised. Additionally, I don't trust the everyman to make wise financial decisions for himself, whether it comes to health care or say, buying a house (see sub-prime mortgage crisis and its global effect).

Aside from Obama's plan to eliminate no-coverage policies for preexisting conditions, I think his plan is the most likely to make sure the health care needs of Americans are met. But even as I write that, I'm not 100-percent convinced. Take a shot; convince me otherwise.

Presidential diplomacy & the art of acknowledgement

2008-10-07T09:45:00.004-04:00

In honor of the second Presidential debate, to be held tonight at 9 p.m. EST/8 p.m. CST on the campus of my boy Paul's alma mater (go Bruins), I thought I'd try to ignite some more political fire.

I have been thinking a lot about this idea of open diplomacy with rival nations that came up during the previous Presidential debate. Obama apparently wants to meet with world leaders such as Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad(I had to copy and paste his name so I wouldn't misspell it) without preconditions.

The way I understand it (and please correct me if I am wrong), McCain is for opening talks with rival leaders if and when certain terms -- benefitting the U.S. -- are met. I understand that one example of this would be for Iran to discontinue its nuclear program. Obama's take is that opening talks with rival leaders should take place before such terms are met. It seems to me that Obama thinks such diplomacy will facilitate rival nations meeting U.S. requests, like not wiping Israel off the map.

McCain seems to fear that unpreconditional diplomacy will only serve to legitimize our national rivals' behavior. Obama fears that setting preconditions disrespects rival nations and perpetuates the problem.

This is one issue on which I heartily agree with Obama, and here's why: The art of acknowledgement.

The research I read and discuss daily promotes this idea of listening to what others have to say in a way that lets them know that their ideas matter, and thus, that they matter. It involves paying attention to another person describing his or her experience, then, when they have finished speaking, summarizing what they said back to them in a tone of voice and manner than communicates what they said was heard, and understood and accepted as their experience.

We talk about it within the context of interpersonal relationships, but I don't see why it couldn't apply to international relationships. The common denominator is people.

It's risky, no doubt. McCain is right in that acknowledgement legitimizes another person's experience and/or behavior as reality and the result of an attempt to achieve some goal. I believe that all behavior is functional.

But here's the real trick: Acknowledgement is not synonomous with agreement. It is possible to hear what someone has to say, show that you understand and accept their experience/behavior as real/functional without giving up what you believe is best. But who knows, maybe we'll hear something that makes sense to us and we can find a way to improve relations.

Furthermore, an approach that includes us taking initiative to change instead of waiting for the other person to change has been shown to be 91 percent effective in getting what we want, whether it be a more peaceful home atmosphere or a more peaceful international atmosphere. This assertion is based on widely accepted, empirically supported relationship research.

It may seem counterintuitive, but I work with this stuff everyday and it works. It may seem risky, but it's a risk I'm willing to take because I think it's representative of the most effective way to improve diplomacy in an international climate I fear is growing more and more unpredictable.

I really wanna, but ...

2008-10-06T20:26:00.002-04:00

I really want to write something, but I've hit a block.

I set out this evening to write a paper for my Sex Therapy class which deals with my personal sexual history as well as my theology of sex, but the assignment instructions are incomplete. This is a real bummer because today is the first day of "Reading Week," which at RTS is a full week of no class to give students a chance to study up for mid-terms. Well, I don't have mid-terms, nor do I really have a break -- I still have appointments with clients and with my supervisors because the clinic doesn't close -- but this is a good week for me to get a jump on some school work. This Sex Therapy paper was one I thought I could knock out to help clear my schedule for later when all hell really breaks loose.

Writing tends to help me settle down when I feel overwhelmed. Boy, it'd be nice to write something that would get me some class credit, but for the time being I'll just ramble here.

I work really long hours these days. I'm very tired, and it's only Monday. I got to school this morning at 8 a.m. The client with whom I had an appointment didn't show. It happens a lot and creates an amorphis schedule. Fortunately, there's always something -- session notes to catch up on, journal articles to read, tape to review with fellow students -- so it's hard to truly waste time.

On Mondays, I'm at school from 8 a.m. to 9 p.m. I have five of those 13 hours devoted to clients, two hours to discuss cases with my supervisor, three hours working as the clinic receptionist (which makes for great study time while earning money). The remaining three hours are devoted to session notes, meetings with classmates to discuss class assignments or clinical video, and some sort of excersise.

Tuesday starts at 8 a.m. and goes to 7 p.m. or 9 p.m. depending on the week. Wednesday goes from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Thursday from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. or 7 p.m. Friday starts at 9 a.m. Class ends at 1:30 p.m., but I usually have meetings until 4 p.m., when the clinic closes. But my day doesn't really end until around 11 p.m., because I cover high school football games for the local paper for a little extra cash.

I work between 50 and 55 hours each week, and that count is based on weeks without the major deadline pressure that will be present later this month through Thanksgiving.

For now, I choose not to work on Wednesday nights, Saturdays or Sundays. That gives Nicki and me time to spend together and try to prevent a program that promotes marriage from destroying ours. It's an iconic battle against an ironic truth.

I heard during my short career as a newspaper reporter that the best remedy for writer's block was to just start writing anything when you think you're stuck. Hopefully my current block has been dislodged. Sure doesn't do me much good, however, without complete instructions for my assignment.

Car up!!

2008-10-03T12:04:00.002-04:00

Check out this video of the descent of Hogpen Mountain during the recent 6-gap century ride in Northeast Georgia. My folks live in an area not too far from where the ride is done, and Nicki and I have this ride on our to-do list.

This dude rides for the most elite team in the Gulf South, Herring Gas, based in Brookhaven, Miss. My team shares sponsors with them, so we're mildly connected. Please do not try what this guy does at home. He is not a pro, but he probably could be if he wanted to quit his day job.

The difference between rhetoric and reality

2008-09-09T16:15:00.003-04:00

This was of particular interest to me, seeing that I'm trying to cut through the crap of this election season and make an informed decision.

Some things of note:

1.) It appears Obama's tax plan really does deliver cuts to more Americans than McCain's.

2.) McCain's health care plan seems to fall short of helping the people who really need help when it comes to affording insurance -- those folks with health problems. Interesting that there isn't much said about how Obama's plan will help people with health problems, but more about the effect it would have on the employer/employee relationship.

3.) The most chilling point I found was that both candidates will most likely increase the national deficit during the next decade -- Obama by $3.5 trillion and McCain by $5 trillion. Talk about pick your poison.

More props for Palin

2008-09-08T21:42:00.004-04:00

I checked in the other day with a member of Nicki's RTS MFT class, Richard Clampitt about Sarah Palin. He came to RTS from Alaska and returned to that state around the same time Palin took office as governor there.

Unexpectedly, but certainly not surprisingly, his wife Missy responded to my e-mail. She happens to be one of our favorite people, an incredibly beautiful, insightful and dedicated person. She gave me permission to share with y'all what she told me about the Republican nominee for vice president:

Hey Charles! Missy here. Just wanted to take a QUICK moment to let you know my thoughts on RVP nominee...

I'm shocked at the media and its portrayal of our gov. She truly has impressed the citizens of our state. Ya see, AK makes BILLIONS of dollars a day due to the oil produced here. Because of that, lawmakers and govs have somehow ended up in the back pockets of oil companies and special interest groups.

That is, until Sarah.

She is a person of great integrity, and she isn't afraid to fight for what is right -- no matter who is in the wrong, democrat, republican, law enforcement, etc. Upon becoming governor, she immediately began "undoing" the wrongs of our previous executors. The jet she referred to (during her acceptance speech, the one she sold on eBay) was purchased by the previous gov (r) who thought he could use the state's money for his own pleasures. She has rectified that.

She isn't impressed with position, but she sees the hearts of people and truly works to improve their plights. She only expects from legislators, businesses, and the people what she gives: honest, hard work to make things better for us and for those coming after us.

Although not an extremist, she is concerned for our environment and she's shut various oil companies' productions because of their disregard for the environment, even though the money our state could have made off of taxes from these productions would have made 100's of billions of $$.

The cost of living here in AK is terrible. We're paying almost $5/gal for "cheap" gas; our utilities are three times what they were just a year ago, and our family of 4 spends about $1,000 a month on groceries. The villages of ak spend even more for their living expenses, so our gov came up with the idea of helping its residents out this winter with all the extra money the state made from (her idea of) taxing the oil companies more for getting rich off of our soil...Her idea was to give residents $$ that could only be used for helping them with utilities and fuel. After working with legislators, the result is that each resident will receive $1200 to do with what they choose.

Okay, I've gotten off a bit, so I'll try to sum up.... Sarah truly isn't impressed by special interest groups and big money. She is a person of strong convictions who isn't afraid to fight even those in her own party to get things rectified and back on track. She has accomplished more in her time as gov as our last two govs combined. She has innovative ideas and a listening ear for others' concerns. Honestly I'm not a big fan of John McCain, but I gained great respect for him with his choice of Sarah as a running mate.

She isn't just hype or another pretty face. She has what it takes, and if our nation allows her, she'll show the world. There ya go.... any questions???

No Missy, I think I'm sold on Palin as a person and a V.P. choice. I'm looking forward to the debates!

Reassessing the issues at hand

2008-09-04T15:07:00.002-04:00

What is it with chicks? You're always making me reconsider my hard, fast choices. Daily it's The Wife. Last night, it's Sarah Palin.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not jumping right on the Straight Talk Express all the way to the White House, but I'm not necessarily riding the Barak Obandwagon either. I'm much more interested in examining both tickets today than I was a week ago.

I'm taking my key issues back out and taking a look at them. I need the help of some of you to give me a clearer understanding about what's at stake with my choice.

Key issues for me in this election:

1.) Health care. Is universal coverage Euro-chic or Eurotrash?

2.) Energy creativity. Drilling offshore and in ANWR: Buying time or wasting time?

3.) International policy. Collaboration or cowboy?

On energy creativity, I'm going to have a hard time getting on board with new petroleum exploration. America's gas problem isn't that we're depended on the Middle East; it's that we're dependent on a finite resource. I'm uneasy about the environmental impact of opening up drilling in the short term will have over the long term in arctic and coastal ecosystems which are already taxed to varying degrees. I need some convincing proof that the cost will be worth the benefit in the coming weeks if I'm going to consider the McCain/Palin ticket. Palin presented the idea that the McCain administration would focus on creative thinking about new energy resources. OK, convince me.

During the past eight years, when it has come to international policy, I think the Bush Administration has come off as stuborn and hard-headed. I know, I know, we had that whole 9/11 thing a few years back. I'm worried that Bush's attitude when dealing with national allies and enemies has done more to make things worse than better. We have not been attacked since 2001, but I wonder what's brewing. There's been some media attention given to speculation that the Taliban and Al-Qaeda are regrouping in rural Afganistan and Pakistan. Speculation it may be. It's the unknown that makes me uneasy. Obama strikes me as a guy who will present a respectful message, but a strong message. Honestly, I can see McCain having a similar attitude. Looking forward to seeing what information comes to light during the debates when it comes to international policy.

When it comes to health care, I'm really torn. I think it is a terrible shame that there are people in the U.S., however few they may be, who are denied health care due to lack of insurance or lack of a means to pay for services. One person denied care, in my mind, is too many. Obama says he wants to push for universal health care. It sounds like he likes what he sees out of the European systems. I hear mixed feelings. I don't want people to be denied care, but I also don't want the quality of care here in the U.S. to diminish. Opponents of the universal plan claim that health care providers will lose money, lose motivation and lose interest in providing the best care possible.

For some perspective on this issues, I appeal to my international pals who have lived for a significant amount of time in the States and in Europe. Pros, cons of the socialized system? After your experience in both systems, do you have a preference? I'm talking to you Kari (and your silent partner) and Bev, and any others out there with significant experience who want to chime in.

Examining Obama's Christianity

2008-09-03T11:02:00.008-04:00

Meg posted this in her comment on my last post, and I thought it deserved some attention out front.

The article is written by Rob Schenck, who appears to be an ordained evangelical Christian minister and the leader of Faith and Action, which appears to be a Christian political interest group. I don't know much about either the group or its leader, but I was glad to read Meg's offering.

The Web article seems to be a well researched examination of Barak Obama's faith, based on what the author understands evangelical Christianity to be and quotes Obama has given in his writings, speeches and interviews. I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts on Schenck's conclusion. I think examinations like this one -- honest attempts to find the truth without shaming the examinee -- are essential when selecting leaders at any level. Obama appears to have offered his faith for scrutiny. Schenck takes him up on the offer.

I am also glad to see that Schenck makes it clear what his examination is -- scrutiny on Obama's claims of faith and their validity, not specific criticism of other political issues like international (a.k.a. foreign) policy.

At times I feel stuck when mixing the importance of faith in my political election decisions. I'm really into Jesus, and Scripture is my personal standard, morally, politically. I vote for the candidate whom I interpret to represent the best mix of word and deed as it applies to the specific job. This means that someone I vote for may fall lower in one area than another candidate, but higher in another. I'm willing to compromise more on different issues based on the position up for discussion.

When it comes to Obama, and based on Schenck's examination, I would not want him to be my pastor, but I'm OK with him being my president. I get that some voters don't have different standards for two such positions, or at least are not as willing to compromise as I am. Ideally, I think the best way to run a country is a Christian theocracy. However, we live in a fallen, pluralistic world, thus a Christian theocracy, though ideally possible, is not practically realistic. I understand criticism that I'm not pursuing God's best. I'll admit, I don't think I am at the top level of politics. In contrast, however, I think I do pursue God's best at the ground level (which is a key factor in why I believe I am pursuing a career in Christian counseling). It is at the one-on-one level where I am most confident that I can have more effectual influence on people, coming along side them as we pursue the abundant life God promises.

My specific thoughts after reading Schenck's column:
-- Y'all know my position on abortion as a political and moral issue.
-- I agree with Obama on his civil union position concerning same-sex marriage, I disagree with his perspective on the Scriptural position on homosexuality. I think it is based on a vastly limited understanding of what the Bible says on the subject, where it says it, and how it is delivered.
-- I agree with Obama's take on a desire to not suspend critical thinking. It may appear to Schenck that Obama came to Christ on his own terms, but knowing my own experience, where I sought answers to a lot of spiritual questions during my spiritual maturation process, I'm not willing to say that with such conviction.
-- I'm warry of Jeremiah Wright and his church's position on racial priorities.
-- I'm sad that Obama doesn't seem to have confidence in the reality of the spiritual rhealm, as evidenced by his comments showing his lack of certainty in the afterlife.

I want to be very careful here and to back away from judging whether or not I think Obama is a Christian. The most I'm willing to say is that, based on this column, it appears his faith may lack maturity.

It is important to me to note that I really don't think I have an intimate understanding of Obama's faith, even after reading this column. I've never met the man, never had an intelligent conversation on such issues with the man. Everything I know about him (and McCain for that matter) has first been filtered through the impressions of someone else, and that leaves a lot of variables unsolved for me.

That said, I have to make a decision sort of like the Red Cross handles crisis situations: Do the best I can with what I have where I am. I'm trying to gather as much information as possible (which is why I was glad to read this column and paying attention to both party conventions) and make the best decision I can with it. This decision is going to be different than a lot of others', but I will be confident that I did all I could when I cast my ballot.

Can we please abort the abortion issue?

2008-08-26T09:14:00.002-04:00

I think that making a presidential selection based soley on one aspect of the candidate's platform severely limits a voter's ability to make an effective choice. For me, this is even the case when it comes to the culturally hypersensitive issue of respecting the sanctity of human life.

This morning as I was walking into the clinic, I walked passed the office of one of my professors. She is an unwavering Republican, I happen to be a pretty solid Democrat. As I passed her open door I said, "How'd you like Michelle Obama's speech last night?" I added a little wink for comedic effect.

"Are you still an Obama supporter?" was her response ... only a little bit shaming (and coming from a therapist, hmmm).

"Huh, you say 'still' like I'm going to change," I said back, trying to keep it jovial.

The professor commented that Barak Obama is not pro-life. That's where it all hinges for her. A presidential candidate who is against abortion is for human life at its root level, in her mind, and that attitude will trickle down into other key areas of the platform and administration.

Now, I am not for abortion, and the professor's point sounds good, especially in our Christian bubble. But I disagree that the abortion issue should be central in this presidential election season. To use a language-nerd's metaphore, pro-life and blanket respect for human life are faux-amis (false friends) -- they may sound alike, and appear to mean the same thing, but they don't translate perfectly.

I don't have any hope that the U.S. will experience any effective change in lowering the abortion rate with influence from the top. It sure hasn't seemed to change much during the Bush administration, one clearly marked by evangelical propoganda if nothing else. Effective change on abortion will come from the ground level. Folks like you and me, elected by God, not man, coming along side people with unwanted pregnancies and those at risk for unwanted pregnancy and living out the two greatest commandments.

If we want to save unborn lives, we're going to have to go into the schools; we're going to have to go into the streets; we're going to have to go into suburbia and wherever hurting people are, and show people that they matter, that they don't have to have sex to feel alive, and do it consistently over the long term. It's going to take more than four years. No change in case law, like Roe v. Wade, communicates personal validation in any powerful way. To do that, we have to start with a soft voice, a soft touch and a listening ear.

War, health care, these are issues to be addressed at the state level because the state has reasonable influence. Personal values, like economics, don't trickle down.

Meridian Criterium

2008-08-20T11:56:00.004-04:00

MERIDIAN, Miss. -- This is an up-close look at the criterium course that pooped me out the back last Saturday.

This is the race with the real hot shots, the Category 1/2/3 race. The best guys in this race are just a step away from being professionals. I race in Category 4, which is one level above the beginners. The racers in this video probably averaged 25 mph for this race, while my group was just a bit slower. But the speed really isn't the tough part.

In a criterium, which is a short-course circuit race, positioning in the pack and cornering are key. It's important to stay withing 10 or 15 riders of the front of the pack in order to minimize the danger of running into a crash and also to minimize the accordian effect. The racers at the front are able to keep a smooth, consistent pace through the turns while the farther you are in the back the more you have to slow down in a corner and surge to make sure you stay up with the group out of the turn. That wears a body out.

I was pretty worn out about 30 minutes into a 50 minute race. The group dropped me at the first corner of the first lap. After a while I gave in to the dreaded DNF and pulled out of the race. The rationale is that stragglers are just in the way, and since there's no chance to have a positive impact on the race, it's better to pull out and save some energy for the next day.

Speaking of the next day, scroll to the bottom of this link and check out the elevation chart. Nicki, who didn't race the women's crit, loved the race, which was one lap around the 20-mile (plus the 6 miles getting to the loop and back), and finished fifth. It was her best result yet. A great way to finish the racing season.

I didn't have as good a day. The Cat. 4s went two laps. I mixed it up, riding in support of a teammate, for the first lap. I couldn't maintain the intensity up all the hills the second time around and got dropped. I finished 32 out of 36. But I finished.

Here are the complete results of the weekend. Make note of the kid who won the Cat. 3 GC. Ben Gabardi is all of 15 years old (and has a 6-foot-2 body frame) and is on track to be a name more people recognize in the future.

King of the Mound (Intermediate edition)

2008-08-03T14:13:00.005-04:00

Indian Mound TT
Find more Bike Rides in Brandon, Mississippi

Here at Blessed Endurance, we are constantly looking for new ways to suffer. This is reflected in the clubs of which we are members and the activities which they devise.

Above is a map of our latest expedition into masochism. The Jackson Metro Cyclists, led by president Rich Adair, came up with the above course for the July individual time trial. About 5 miles (the start on the map is a little off because I wasn't sure where to mark the map) in distance with about 3.5 miles of climbing on Indian Mound. The hills of Rankin County are some of our club's favorite for inducing suffering. I wasn't going to miss this one, and rearranged my client appointment schedule in order to compete.

Only a couple folks showed up because of earlier rains, but the cream of the club was present. Chuck Moore was unbelievable, setting a course record. I was pleased with my results, coming in fourth overall and winning the Intermediate TT category by more than 30 seconds.

The results

Rider Team Category Time
Chuck Moore Herring Gas Advanced 12:39 King of the Mound

2. Jim Phyfer Herring Gas Advanced 13:25

3. Chris Ready Unattached Advanced 13:40

4. Charles Shepard Absolute Racing Intermediate 13:41

5. Michael Weaver Unattached Triathlete 13:50

6. David Church Unattached Intermediate 14:13

7. Clay Haller ? ? 14:21

8. Phillip Marler ? ? 14:26

9. Michael Winniford ? ? 14:27

10. Cary Watkins ProBike Intermediate 14:34

11. Dan Young ? ? 14:41

12. Justin Humphries Absolute Racing Junio 19:31

13. Michaela Humphries Unattached Junior 35:5o

Less than a month away ...

2008-08-03T12:45:00.002-04:00

We're less than a month away. Tell me, WHAT'S THAT COMIN' DOWN THE TRACK?

A bit of learning

2008-07-30T17:46:00.003-04:00

In the past,
there have been times when I've disappeared briefly from the blogosphere.

In the past,
this has worried, angered people. "WE WANT B.E.! WE WANT B.E.!" they scream.

In the past,
the reasons behind my disappearances have often been linked to a greater work-load (or just an approaching deadline before which I have procrastinated) at school.

In the present,
this work-load (er, procrastination) problem is the case.

So, in the present,
I'm trying something new: Letting my loyal readers (and my mom) know that Blessed Endurance will return as soon as I hand in the two papers that are due on Friday.

It's a bit of learning and a shifting of brain states.
In the future,
I'll explain what that means.

Another figgin' Sunday

2008-07-22T12:07:00.004-04:00

Sundays are great days around our neighborhood during this time of the year. We always take a walk. Sometimes we go in the morning. Sometimes we go in the evening. We always go holding hands. In fact, we're part of an international club called the Hand Holding Walkers For Life (HHWFLs).

Sometimes our walks have a purpose, sometimes they don't. However, this past Sunday's walk about certainly had an objective:

Figs.

Nicki last month discovered a fig tree right outside her office and she has been plundering for weeks now.

Until this summer, the only conception I had of figs was the filling of that famous cookie, er, I mean, fruit and cake. When I took my first bite into a fresh fig, as you might imagine by the shot above, I was very surprised. Looks more like a small peach than that brown, seedy stuff in Fig Newtons.

We picked a sackful ... just enough to make a ...

... jarful of preserves. So delicious and perfect with a cup of black coffee, in my opinion. We'll have to get the recipe up on Bwead of Wife, but if you've been following Blessed Endurance and waiting for bread updates, you know how well that's going. ... Sorry. Maybe this will motivate me.

Because, man, it's worth sharing.

Weekend of repose ... sort of

2008-07-21T21:30:00.003-04:00

The weekend following July 4 (that means it was the 11th-13th) was designated as a no-travel weekend. It was huge. No offense to the great party of the previous adventure when we ran the Peachtree and hung out with friends and family, but we needed some rest and to spend some time in our own house..

Saturday we went on a 60-mile bike ride with a teammate of ours. We got really hungry and he and his wife fed us breakfast. So thankful for that. We promptly went home and took a stellar nap. For dinner we had three friends over and fed them our new favorite pizza -- pesto chicken. It uses pesto as the sauce, then it is topped with chicken, sauteed mushrooms and red onions as well as mozzarela, parmesean and feta cheeses. We forgot the artichoke hearts, which are stellar, and we also forgot to take pictures.

Part of our dinner party included two new RTS students -- Trey and Kiki. They're married and are native Georgians, so we instantly liked them. Kiki, who has started the MFT program this summer (she'll be slogging away with me) is from Cumming and earned her bachelor's degree from Belhaven. Trey, her husband, is from Alamo, Ga., near Vidallia (Vi-day-yah) and has started his M.Div. degree. He's into missions and they hope to go to Thailand after the graduate. Great couple. The best thing about them though is that Trey is a huge Dawgs fan, like me, and Kiki has trouble understanding the enthusiasm, like Nicki. We're going to get along great! They can come over during the fall and watch the games. Trey and I will drink beer and make lots of noise. The wives will shake their heads and talk about civilized things, probably.

Sunday marked 18 months of marriage for Nicki and me. It also marked the 18th month she's been on me about cleaning out the garrage. I figured I'd celebrate both occassions by making the first step toward turning our side of the garrage into my personal hideout -- a place to read the Bible, journal, etc., as well as cuss, fart and drink beer with my boys. I found all sorts of treasures in there that I had forgotten I had, like my name plate from when I covered the the 2001 College World Series.

I also found all of my old baseball trophies. I put them up on the shelves. I mean, I'm really proud of my 7-and-8-year-olds 2nd place trophy from 1987. All my friends will be impressed, I'm sure. I also found photos from trips to Africa and France as well as letters from my brother, mother and, er, girlfriends not named Nicki, from when I was a camp counselor in 1999. I kept the letters from family, I tossed the letters from those who didn't make the cut.

I found that chair in a garbage heap behind our house. I also found the dog in the backyard, imagine that! No, that's my golden lab Jack, who doens't get enough face time here at Blessed Endurance. But in his honor, my new hang-out joint will derrive its name -- Jack's Garrage. Sounds real manly, yeah? Well if you don't think so, you won't be invited to hang out!

So much to catch up on

2008-07-19T14:54:00.002-04:00

ATLANTA -- It's been a little while since our last update. I realize this is not OK, so Mom, you can stop calling to make sure we're not dead and Kari, you don't have to send me any more subtle hints that blogging is going to make my writing better ...

There is a negative correlation between the amount of blogging we do and the amount of school work I have at any given moment (since I am the unsilent partner of this venture). The master's program I'm in loves to take courses and smash them into as few meetings as possible. For example, this past week's 1-hour class consisted of four straight days of 3-hour lectures. There are three books I have to read for it and watch a video on top of another class I'm in this summer for which the lectures have ended and I've taken the final exam, yet assignments remain. Does that make sense to anyone? If so, could you please explain to me why that's OK?

Enough ranting; there are pictures to talk about.

We ran the 39th Peachtree Road Race with 54,998 other folks on July 4. The photo above is the start line. As you might imagine, it's a mass of humanity like nothing you've ever seen before.

Nicki was strong as always. She finished in 47:45, which means she averaged a little less than 7:42 per mile. When you consider that the first three miles are spent fighting the crowds and making sure you don't run over the people who randomly stop in front of you (on a downhill), that's pretty good. I've always been glad I married a fast woman.

I'm dying here as I approach the 6-mile marker. You may or may not be aware that this years PRR's finish was changed from its traditional place at Piedmont Park in Midtown. The two-year drought has forced the city to cut back on water usage, which means it has a more difficult time repairing damaged grass when 55,000 people walk all over it. So the course finished at the corner of Juniper and Ponce. The finish festival was held in the parking lot of the Atlanta Civic Center. The move changed the last mile considerably. In past years the race would go down to 10th street, then enjoy a downhill glide into the park to the line. Not the case this year: The undulations had me begging for mercy and looking like someone had strapped a refrigerator to my back.

I finished in 45:47, only 45 seconds off my personal record, but I felt like I put in more effort for that time despite what I thought would be an easier course.

It was a great weekend. We stayed right on Juniper with Katie Yakabisin, who was a good college friend of Nicki's at UVA and a bridesmaid in our wedding. It gave her a chance to reciprocate that gesture because SHE GOT ENGAGED THAT NIGHT!!! Her boyfriend Tim proposed to her atop the civil engineering building at Georgia Tech (take it easy loyal Dawgs, they're Tech alums and they're still good people, not all that nerdy, actually) while the fireworks were going off all around the city -- Centennial Park to the south, Lennox Square to the north, Six Flags to the west, and some others to the east. We're very happy for them, and we're happy they're getting married in January in Atlanta -- easy trip for us to make!

Saturday we drove up to my old stompin' grounds in Marietta. We had dinner with Daniel and Katie and their crew at the Marietta Pizza Company on the Square. Lemme tell ya folks, this pair is incredible to watch as they play zone defense on their three yungins -- Mary Evelyn, 4, Maggie Beth, 18 months, and John Watson, 4 months. These two are so in tune with each other, knowing what the other needed before he or she asked for it. I was impressed and encouraged for when it's our turn (on a side note, this experience led to an interesting conversation about IF and WHEN we would have children of our own -- still aways off gang).

After dinner we weren't ready to head back to Atlanta, so we cruised around trying to drop in on people. We stopped by my middle brother Ben's place and knocked on the door. The problem was that I had forgotten Ben was in D.C. for the weekend, so we got to surprise his roommate Baron, who was clad in only his bathrobe. Got a call from Ben about an hour ago, and he told me that Baron had a guest over at the time. Um, we did not get to meet the guest, however, Baron did actually invite us in. So, if we had been obtuse enough to ignore the social cues, we might actually have gotten to meet the guest. What a bummer.

Still, we were undeterred. We stopped by Audrey and Sarah Benson's place a few doors down, but they weren't around either, so we drove another mile or so up to their parents' house and chatted with Mr. Carroll for a while before heading back to midtown. Mrs. Lynn was actually in Atlanta at the Braves' game with Ms. Kelly. Sorry we missed ya gals.

On Sunday ... heh, you thought we were done ... we found a way to run into another of Nicki's bridesmaids and Wah Hoo pals Sarah Capstack. We had breakfast with her and her fiance Brian at Java Jive on Ponce. It was a chance for us to meet Brian before they get married on September 15 up in Harrisonburg, Va. Nicki's in that one, too. You know, I'm kinda jealous. I've never been in a wedding, and she gets to be in two within the next seven months. I gotta start hooking my friends up a little bit more.

Anyway, Java Jive has the BEST BISCUITS IN ATLANTA. Not the Indigo Girls-owned Flying Biscuit by Candler Park. Forget about it. Plus, the Flying Biscuit has rediculously long lines for brunch. We walked right in and sat down at Java Jive. Nice little secret we'd like to share with our loyal readers.

Heck of a weekend, but I'd have to say that the next one may have been better for us. More about that in another post.

Le monde par LeMond

2008-06-20T19:03:00.003-04:00

The route I hope to take regularly to school on my steel-frame LeMond takes me through a cultural warp. It's like going from Madison Avenue to Harlem in just a few pedal strokes.

Though I have left the newspaper business, I still have some journalistic longings. What follows is an attempt at a photo essay of my bike commute.

There are a few busy intersections along the way. A little less than 1.5 miles from school is the I-220 interchange, which is probably the busiest. On the east and west sides of the overpass, I have to deal with merging cars. On my way home, I have to merge to the left in order to take Bullard Street, which forks to the left. I'm forced to ride in the middle of the street for about 50 yards in order to stake my place in traffic. It's a quick adrenaline boost.

Just east of the interchange is Woodrow Wilson Avenue. This is where the road gets bumpy. I'm not quite sure how to explain how a road in a capital city gets this bad. I'm not joking when I say this road is worse than the urban roads I remember in Lagos, Nigeria, which is the largest city of, shall we say, a "developing" nation.

These railroad tracks are so deep that I could stand my bike up next to one of the rails. I just have to make sure my tires are pumped at high pressure. I carry a flat-repair kit just in case.

No, this is not the San Andreas Fault, just a broken rim (or wrist) waiting to happen.

Fortification Street takes me through one of the ugliest sites in Jackson on my way to my middle-class neighborhood. This apartment complex was functioning when I moved here three years ago, but it was in bad shape and the mayor ran people out of it. The plan, I think was to demolish the complex in an effort to revitalize the effort. Well, you can see how that's progressing.

Funny thing happened to me after I took this picture. A lady who smelled strongly of alcohol and didn't seem to have all her faculties stopped to talk to me as I was getting up to leave. She called me her cousin, and she was my auntie -- I thought it best not to go into how that would make our family tree REALLY messed up. I figured I'd humor her and chat for a second. She showed me a hair band she had just found on the street that had some plastic gems in it. She showed me a ring that Crackhead Gone Wild (I assume that's somebody's street name) had given her for her birthday. It had plastic gems, too, and she hinted at taking a trip soon to Chicago to take them to the diamond man. She demanded that I give her my cycling gloves and my sunglasses, both of which I politely declined to give her.

That's when I noticed a very large dude walking up the sidewalk toward us. The lady was screaming that I was his nephew and that she was my auntie (at least she got the relations right). All I know is that when I saw his annoyed face, I wanted to cry "Uncle!"

"You taking pictures around here?" he asked. I refrained from giving him a Bill Engval-style "Here's your sign" joke, and told him, "Yeah, just of my bike and this apartment complex."

"Lemme see your camera," he said.

Boldly, I declined. Journalistic instinct, I suppose.

When he said he just wanted to see the pictures I was taking, I put aside my journalistic instinct and let him see.

"Just keep scrolling through," he said, wanting to see everything he could.

Once I got past the Woodrow Wilson shots he said, "You a still-life photographer?" I mean, at least this guy had an appreciation for art, right?

"Not really."

"Just a hobby?"

"Yeah."

"We can't have people taking pictures around here." I took him for a conspiracy theorist.

"I'm not trying to cause trouble," I said.

"Naw, you straight." (Keep in mind the lady is skwawking the entire time this is going on.)

We shook hands and he walked off.

I started to breath again, and rode away, back to my safe, interstate-front duplex on the upper middle-class side of town.

Belhaven Bikers

2008-06-20T18:28:00.004-04:00

This is the cheapest gas in Jackson.

School Commute
Find more Commutes in Jackson, Mississippi

This is the cheapest route to take, especially if you do it by bicycle.

I started riding my bike to school on Wednesday. My friends and neighbors Sarah Ryburn and Brian wanted in on the action, so Friday morning we sought out safety and savings in numbers.

As you can tell, everyone had a grand time. The roads are bumpy. The weather fortunately was mild, but we still worked up a nice sweat over the 7.3 miles from Northeast Jackson to West Jackson. Traffic was light.

None of us have clients on Friday, so I think this may become a regular adventure. We just need to get Sarah Ryburn a helmet of her own (she wore Nicki's) and a pump so I don't have to compromise my balance by riding with my pump in one hand over to her place in the morning. We all know my balance is bad enough as it is.

Feelings of entrapment lead me to take risks

2008-06-17T20:49:00.002-04:00

I've been sitting here reading Irvin Yalom's The Gift of Therapy, and I started to think about how trapped I've felt lately. Not only that, but I've noticed that I've picked an issue to fight against as a sort of unconscious self-therapy.

This is what happens when you go to school to become a therapist: You start to analyze yourself ad nauseum.

Anyway, money is tight these days. There are all sorts of reasons for this. A couple that I can think of off the top of my head: 1.) We've been playing and traveling a lot with bike races, weddings, etc., 2.) I'm not working very much these days because a.) I wanted a job that would better suit my schedule and school responsibilities and b.) my work schedule changed unexpectedly while we were out of town and all the good work slots were taken by the time I returned home, 3.) We didn't communicate well with my folks, upon whom we are depending to make up the difference between what Nicki and I earn and our school and living expenses, 4.) Dad's job is ending at the end of July, 5.) Mom and Dad are taking a much deserved trip for their 30th wedding anniversary, which rightly has taken priority.

So Nicki and I are stressing out a little bit. If we don't don't make some changes now, we aren't going to be able to buy groceries without resorting to credit cards by the middle of next month. We're making it work. Today, I picked up significant extra hours in the campus book store for the rest of the summer in addition to my work as the clinic receptionist. I have also inquired about a Saturday job at a local bike shop, where I would sell bikes and hopefully learn a good bit about bike maintenance in the process. Nicki is even getting into the act. She has inquired about a job teaching standardized test prep at the local Kaplan school. This is all in addition to her full-time job and my full-time school, which now includes seeing actual clients.

As you might imagine, I have started to feel the walls closing in a bit. I was starting to get comfortable with balancing work, study and doing therapy, all while leaving room for insanity preventing recreation. That balance is threatened at the moment.

I think my current hypermiling crusade is a microcosm of this internal struggle. By pursuing greater fuel efficiency, Nicki and I have seen our fuel spending decrease even as the national average gas price soars. It seems as if it's the one pressure we're able to counter with our own push.

During a trip to spend Father's Day in the North Georgia woods with Dad, I drove nearly 1,000 miles round trip. The drive yielded my best fuel efficiency scores yet: 44.46 miles per gallon, driving 55 mph in our 2004 Toyota Matrix.

It's not enough. I heard during the drive back from Ellijay, Ga., to Jackson that well-working spark plugs can improve fuel efficiency, so I've been checking into how I can know if my spark plugs are up to snuff (although I think they're in good shape because they probably changed them when I had my 60,000-mile check-up last year).

I've also decided to do some experimenting with riding my bike to school. Nicki walks to work; I want to get in on the carbohydrate-fueled trips rather than the hydrocarbon-fueled ones. I'm planning on going home tonight, packing up a change of clothes in which to see clients and riding to school tomorrow morning. It's a risky venture. The roads are worse than third-rate, they're third-world; the drivers, from what I hear, are less than bike friendly. They freaked out my buddy Brian earlier this year when he made an attempt to ride in from our neighborhood.

There's something satisfying about the risk of it all. Even this post is risky because it exposes some of my vulnerabilities, and I'm sure it also exposes me to criticism about whether a post this honest is appropriate for this kind of forum. However, I think that I'm controling my life in some way by writing about what's on my mind. So keep your money and your criticism to yourself, and I'll let you know how it turns out.

Bedroom or Bat Cave?

2008-06-12T09:44:00.002-04:00

Let me tell you how much Nicki loves living in our duplex apartment during the summer. This morning, we had finished a run, stretched on the front porch and were ready to come back in the house when she spotted a green gecko at the door. We were outside. It was inside.

"It's like we're living in a zoo!" she said to me.

It's cluster stress, believe me. What we found in the house on Sunday night had to have been weighing on her mind. I have a special little critter trapped between a piece of cardboard and a trash can in the photo above.

We hadn't been home long from a trip to Birmingham (my buddy Todd Carlton married Leslie Pennington there on Saturday, a couple hours after the triathlon ... yes, we went after the triathlon). I was in the bedroom laying down while Nicki made bread for the week in the kitchen. She came in to talk for a second, and I rolled from my stomach to my back, across the bed so I could face her (no she wasn't upset that I was laying down while she was baking).

After a few minutes, something dark moved on the bed. I thought it was a roach, because we find those on occassion, too, but then it moved again and hopped off the bed onto the floor. A bat -- Nicki's worst nightmare; a mouse with wings! I don't know where the thing came from. It must have fallen from the ceiling or the air conditioning unit because I didn't feel it when I rolled over the spot where we found it.

Nicki is such a problem solver. She was the brain behind the removal effort. The girl sees a problem, comes up with a solution ... then makes ME carry out the plan;) I was fascinated and content just to sit there and watch the little critter fritter around the room.

She got the trash can and the cardboard and we trapped the bat on the floor. By this time I was laughing; Nicki sort of chuckled, I think trying her best to match my humor when in fact she was terrified. It was so surreal that I said, "We have GOT to blog about this." So she went for the camera. In the above photo, I'm sliding the bat trap toward the front door.

Once on the front porch, and after a few deep breaths (I was a little scared of a bat attack myself at this point), we took off the trash can, Nicki snapped a picture, and the bat fluttered away.

Initially, Nicki was a little concerned that she wouldn't sleep. The girl HATES rodents, especially mice. I told her that there was a big difference between bats and mice. The latter comes in the house because it wants to be there. There's food; it's warm. The former comes in the house by accident. Bats don't want to be in a human's house because it's not as much food and there's too much light.

I made most of that up, but it seemed to work. She slept great that night.

JMC TT results II

2008-06-11T11:13:00.002-04:00

RIDGELAND, Miss. -- We've got new results from the May JMC Time Trial, No. 2 in the summer series. I was pleased with my time. It was my first appearance at the event, and the best so far in the Intermediate category by 18 seconds.

Nicki was out of town at a conference, but there weren't any women who raced this time, so she is in good shape in second among the ladies.

Ben Garbardi is a 15-year-old freak. Look for his name in a couple years among the race results in Europe!

The course is 7 miles, out-and-back, on Highland Colony Parkway.

Category Place Name Time Avg MPH Points
Advanced
1st Ben Garbardi 14:59 28.03 10

Intermediate
1st Charles Sheperd 17:14 24.37 10
2nd Cary Watkins 17:32 23.95 8
3rd David Church 17:55 23.44 6
4th Jeff Goodwin 18:45 22.40 4

Tri Athlete 1st Curtis Barnes 17:40 23.77 10
2nd Dan Young 18:07 23.18 8
3rd Daryll Lehtola 18:26 22.78 6
4th Clay Haller 18:39 22.52 4

Beginner 1st Phillip Marler 19:21 21.71 10
2nd Patrick Odom 24.02 17.50 8

Juniors 1st Justin Humphreys 26:26 15.89 10

Oh yeah? Just tri us

2008-06-10T15:21:00.002-04:00

RIDGELAND, Miss. -- Nicki and I have finally combined all of our favorite athletic tests into one. We finished the 2008 Heatwave Classic on Saturday.

You can see our results here.

The race was just short of an Olympic distance race. The open-water swim was only 1/2 mile (about 900 yards), but the bike and run were the requisite 24.5 miles and 6.2 miles, respectively. We were pretty pleased with how it turned out. Nicki absolutely LOVED the race. She's already planning her first half-iron man (1.2-mile swim, 56-mile bike, 13.1-mile run). I liked it, too, and caught myself thinking this mornig during class about doing a half-iron man myself.

The one thing I thought was a bummer was the loneliness, especially on the bike. Unlike a pure bike race, triathlons have rules that prevent working together with other cyclists. The race gets spread out pretty well, and you find yourself alone for most of the ride. To me, that gets boring. I found myself passing and being passed by another guy that I know from the bike scene around town just so I could keep my interest.

You may notice that my transition times were pretty slow, especially compared to the other guys in my age group (which was pretty stinkin' competitive). The transition from the swim to the bike was really slow because I was messing with my left hand. I had this grand plan to protect the gruesome gash on my left hand during the race with a vinyl medical-examining glove, closed at the bottom with athletic tape. Well, that set-up lasted about two strokes into the swim (I think if the athletic tape had been water-proof it would have worked). When I got out of the water, the tape and bandages I had covering the wound were coming off, too, so I took the time to take them off, too before putting on my cycling gloves. The dressings weren't doing anything but holding the lake funk onto my broken skin.

The transition from the bike to the run was much smoother because there was less to do. However, convincing my legs that they needed to continue functioning was a transition in itself. It took about a mile and a half to get them on board. Plus, it was REALLY hot -- upper 80s to low 90s, even at 9 a.m. I took a drink at every water station along the way (fluids were stocked at every mile marker).

At any rate, we both really enjoyed the challenge. When we get pictures I'll try to post them.

Tore up one side and down the other

2008-06-04T08:42:00.007-04:00

There's a saying among cyclists that there are two types of people who race bicycles: Those who have come off the bike, and those who will.

Count me among the former, and boy, did I join the club with fervor.

My first case of road rash was the result of a crash in Saturday's road race in Alexandria, La. About 4 miles from the finish, I was recovering at the back of the pack after attacking off the front. In front of me, a teammate reached for his water bottle to take a drink right as the pack decided to accelerate. Someone, either him or the guy next to him, hit a hole in the road, which affected their balance. They touched and went down. I was behind it all and couldn't get out of the way in time. (Above is my right forearm.)

My teammate was on his back, and I rammed him right in the right butt cheek going about 25 miles per hour. Surprisingly, the impact didn't seem to affect him. He was concerned about other injuries, like a really bloody elbow, and a twisted head tube on his bike. (Above is my right hip.)

I went over the handlebars and landed on my right side. I have a little bit more road rash on my right leg, some bruising on my right shoulder and a bruise on the right side of my rib cage where the handlebars must have jammed up into me. Fortunately, I got the better end of the crash, and I was able to get up and finish the race. Two other guys, including my teammate, did not finish. One of them had to have his chin stiched up.

You might think that just these injuries would be enough for me for a while. You would be wrong. Above are scratches on my left arm incurred last night after the local time trial series. This one is really embarrassing because 1.) I had finished my race and 2.) I was all by myself.

I took a side street off the course to cool down after I stopped the clock in the low 17-minute range for the 7-mile TT. I decided to turn around in a parking lot. I turned left before I saw the very loose gravel in the entrance to the parking lot. My back wheel flew out from under me and I landed hard on the ground.

My left hip felt left out. It wanted a bruise, too.

The worst part of the crash was what it did to my left hand. As you can see, large chunks of skin were removed. I had made the mistake of not wearing gloves. That's a big error because what's the first thing that hits the ground when you have a crash? Yeah, your palms as you try to brace for the impact. Well, that's what happened, and I paid for it.

There's a lot of dirt in the wound, which worries me. I have a neighbor who's a nurse. I went right to her house after I got home, and she helped clean me up. (Nicki is out of town, but she doesn't like blood and the wound probably would have made her faint, anyway.) There has been a lot of hydrogen peroxide poured and Neosporin squeezed. I'm really hoping it doesn't get infected. I'm also currently brainstorming on how I can keep my left hand dry during the swim of this weekend's Heat Wave Triathlon. I'll let you know how that goes.

And how is the bike after these two crashes? Surprisingly, I think it's OK. Very sturdy aluminum. It's a good thing, too, because it's a team bike and very expensive. I have dropped it off with the mechanic for a look-see. Hopefully the only damage done was to me and not the machine.

UPDATE: Just got my bike back from Jeremy the Mechanic, and the bike seems to be in good working order. My buddy Brian gave me a Second Skin bandage that is supposed to be a miracle worker and will most likely keep my hand wound dry during this weekend's triathlon. Oh, and I'll be heading out on a 30-mile spin here in about 30 minutes. Cycling is like horseback riding: When you fall off, the best thing to do is get right back on. ... At least that's what I'm telling myself.

UPDATE: We've got puss oozing from the wound this morning, thus we've got a doctor's appointment for this afternoon.

A little note says a lot

2008-06-03T17:37:00.002-04:00

Lemme just tell you how my wife loves me.

I got a letter today in the mail from her, postmarked from Cincinnati, Ohio. She's been in Cedarville, Ohio, since last Friday, but she wrote the letter last Thursday before she left, then mailed it when her plane landed. I don't really know what words to use to describe how much I enjoyed this little, simple gift. Nothing fancy. Just a sweet message that tells me I matter to her, that she's glad we're married.

I'm glad we're married, too.

What I'm not happy about is that she is not at home. It's so lonely. It's so quiet. I hate it. I'm so disoriented. I've eaten dinner the past two nights around 10 p.m. Granted, I've been either driving back from a long trip or playing softball, but it's a hard existence all by oneself. I'm so disorganized that I have had a hard time remembering to make my lunch, which I do when she's here, but my routine has been thrown off.

I know, I'm such a whiner. I can't help it. I like it better when she's here.

One way to get the lawn mowed

2008-05-28T16:26:00.001-04:00

I want one of these.

JMC time Time Trial No. 1

2008-05-02T09:37:00.003-04:00

The results are in!

The local cycling club, the Jackson Metro Cyclists, holds a monthly time trial series during the summer. The course is a hilly 7-mile out-and-back on Highland Colony Parkway, and it's a lot of fun. Some of the best cyclists in the area come out. For instance, the winner of the Advanced group is the national road race and time trial champion for the 16-and-under.

Oh and don't forget Nicki! Her results are in bold.

2008 Indian Cycle/Bike Rack
Time Trial Series - 7 Miles
Hosted by JMC
Race #1, April 29, 2008

Category Place Name Time Avg MPH Points
Advanced
1st Ben Garbardi 14:44 28.51 10
2nd Stacey Eckerson 15:25 27.24 8
3rd Sam riden 16:14 25.87 6
4th Eric Spina 16:20 25.71 4
5th Brian Anderson 16:58 24.75 2

Intermediate
1st David Church 17:46 23.64 10
2nd David Donald 18:20 22.91 8
3rd Bill Shearer 18:30 22.70 6
4th Jeff Goodwin 18:51 22.28 4
5th Cary watkins 18:52 22.26 2
6th Jeremy Polk 19:13 21.86 1

Tri Athlete
1st Michael Weaver 17:07 24.54 10
2nd Toby Jones 17:52 23.51 8
3rd Dan Young 17:56 23.42 6

Beginner
1st Todd Zummallen 19:03 22.05 10
2nd Curtis Barnes 19:08 21.95 8
3rd Chitlo Marten 19:31 21.52 6
4th Tommy Cobb 19:37 21.41 4
5th Jason Horne 19:53 21.12 2
6th Steve Devan 20:02 20.97 1
7th Richard werne 20:21 20.64 1
8th Irwin Koenig 22:20 18.81 1

Women
1st Lauren Edwards 17:13 24.39 10
2nd Nicki Sheppard 19:55 21.09 8
3rd Karen Vesey 20:53 20.11 6
4th Tracey Wakefield 20:56 20.06 4

Juniors
1st Justin Humphreys 26.06 16.09 10

Where are my results, you ask? I was in class. But I'll be out there at the end of this month!

Kermit was full of crap

2008-04-30T11:26:00.002-04:00

It seems to be getting easier and easier to be green.

This is a good example. We bought several reusable bags on Wednesday.

Then there's the gas-saving tips like keeping your tires inflated appropriately (400 psi for my wheels), filling up during cooler times of the day so the gasoline is less likely to expand/evaporate in the tank, filling up slower in order to avoid spills and fill the tank more completely. Believe me, we're doing everything we can to keep our fuel costs down. Shoot Nicki hasn't filled up in more than a month, and still has half a tank to go. Gotta love walking to work!

And then there's driving slower. I'll tell you what, I love to drive my little red matrix fast. At least 10 over the speed limit, which in most cases is like 80 mph. But it's just not worth it when gas costs nearly $3.50 per gallon and getting more expensive. So we've started maxing out our speed at 55, the most efficient high-way speed. Since the switch, I have been getting as much as 100 miles more per tank. I hit 440 last week on 12.2 gallons. That's right at 36 mpg.

We already recycled paper, plastic, metal and glass waste.

The beauty of it all is that the things we're doing haven't cost us. Driving more efficiently saves us money and cuts down on our carbon footprint. Recycling is a municipal service paid for by taxes and sanitation fees that we already pay at no extra charge. Our compact flourescent light bulbs were more expensive than regular bulbs, but they're going to last a lot longer and save us in the long run. The reusable grocery bags added up to $10, hardly enough to make it cost-inefficient.

There are some things a family can do that will cost money -- like low-flow toilets and installing solar panels for energy (for water heaters and such). And there are some things I don't think we'll be willing to give up in a month or so, like air conditioning, which drives our electric bill up 300 percent. But when we move to Boone, N.C., in a few years, we can make the necessary adjustments.

Caring and Cursing

2008-04-30T10:23:00.002-04:00

The film-production debut of our friends the O'Dells. Brian and Emily put this together for a presentation (Brian and I are classmates at RTS).

We live in the same neighborhood, which was the setting for most of the courtship shots. The trees make living in Jackson more bearable.

Anyway, after watching this, I couldn't help but wonder: WHAT IS IT WITH CHICKS WHO WANT TO PLUCK OUT THEIR HUSBANDS' HAIR? It hurts. Put the tweazers away and leave us alone!

bWead of Wife

2008-04-28T17:22:00.002-04:00

Thanks to a healthy dose of inspiration from fellow bloggers, especially Kari and her silent partner, I have started a new blog to share with everyone the bread-baking exploits of my silent partner*, Nicki.

So if you get a hankerin' for something yeasty, head on over to bWead of Wife. We'll post recipes, photos and experiences from everything she conjures up -- sourdough to bagels.

See ya there!

*-By silent partner I mean Nicki communicates on this blog visually. She rarely, if ever, communicates on this blog verbally; however, she is a regular chatterbox at the house. She is in no way, shape or form mute. Believe me.

A wonderful pet to have

2008-04-17T19:26:00.007-04:00

Nicki's dad Paul is becoming our personal Andy Dufresne. I mean, he's not a convicted murderer or anything, and to my knowledge he doesn't do much laundry, but he does provide sound financial planning and is a wonderful pet to have.

Barring some weird catastrophe, we're going to follow his last bit of numbers crunching, which will lead us to total debt freedom. Dave Ramsey would be proud.

So anyway, some backstory. Some of you may remember that I teased about a month ago to a big move we were about to make. Well, I had this grand scheme to sell my car, dump the car payment and tag taxes, and buy a 60-80 mpg scooter with which to travel the 7 miles to school. I figured we have Nicki's Maxima (affectionately called Glutia), and she walks to work even when it's cold. We could work something out when it rains, right?

Well, other folks, including Nicki and our parents, weren't so eager to jump on board with my scheme. My Dad said eventually we would need two cars. My Mom freaked out because scooters aren't safe. Nicki freaked out because she knows a scooter wouldn't be safe on the roads I'd be driving it on.

Enter Father-in-law, mutual-fund manager extraordinaire Paul. Nicki brings up the subject with him during her visit home last weekend, and he busts out his calculator. He figures that with the amount of money Nicki and I have in savings, which is earning next to no interest right now because the U.S. economy is in the tank and getting worse, we could take out what we need to pay off the car, which will accrue almost five times the amount of interest this year that the savings will earn, and come out ahead.

The trick is that because we're paying off the car, it won't be accruing any more interest. The savings will be depleated, but it wasn't like the amount was working much for us anyway with the Fed constantly slashing interest rates. The plan is to take the bulk of the car payment and give it to ourselves instead -- save it -- and buy groceries and such with the remaining money. The economy will eventually rebound, whatever damage is done now will be either minimal or nil compared to what we'll save over the next three years without a car payment.

I'm very excited about all this. It doesn't solve our immediate gas catastrophe, no comments from those across the Pond, but it keeps us from having to buy a new car in the more distant future. Plus my Toyota Matrix still gets more than 30 mpg, and we're discovering new ways to raise fuel efficiency, like not driving like a bat out of hell.

All this to say, I'm glad I married my wife and that her family came with her. Thanks Papa Bear.

Bread maker on the rise

2008-04-17T10:06:00.004-04:00

There are few things as pleasant as coming home from a 12-hour day at school into a house filled with yeasty aroma. There's something comforting about bread baking in the oven. It's very homey. It tells me that Nicki is enjoying herself because she gets a real kick out of creating something in the kitchen. It tells me I'm going to have very satisfying lunches the rest of the week.

Nicki started making bread around the beginning of the year; above is a photo of her first attempt. It was born out of a combination of her crusade against high-fructose cornsyrup (which we found in the whole-wheat bread we had been buying at the grocery store) and her friendship with Emily O'Dell, who had some sourdough starter she shared with her. The first attempt was a little bit dense. It turns out the water wasn't warm enough to activate the yeast.

But after a little supplimental coaching from Emily, Nicki made vast and speedy improvements. Since this loaf was pulled from the rack and dumped from the pan, Nicki has developed a whole-wheat loaf, one of which will be the backbone of my turkey sandwhich for lunch today. I can taste it now.

Next up for her are homemade bagels and pizza crust. I just love that we're creating something at home that is made with all-natural ingredients, and that we don't have to buy bread anymore at the Wal-Mart.

Nicki's photography showcase

2008-04-14T21:38:00.002-04:00

NEW YORK -- There were some shots taken by and taken of my wife that were just too good to be left out from our trip entries. Nicki has a real knack for capturing the beauty of flowers.

From the Flower Show at Macy's on 34th Street. The paint is all red carnations.

A Central Park Bridge.

Nicki on the Brooklyn Bridge.

On our walk through Libery State Park.

A Central Park begger.

The moon from the Top of the Rock.

The Empire State Building lit up.

Ahh. Whose ready to jump on a plane and go back?

East-er Village

2008-04-14T20:46:00.004-04:00

NEW YORK -- Easter in New York was beautiful. It will be worth your wait to read about it.

We attended church Sunday morning at Redeemer Presbyterian Church, which has the same name, but different location than our home church in Jackson. You'll see if you snoop around the site that there are several Sunday meeting locations. We chose the one at Hunter College in the Upper East Side.

Tim Keller is the senior pastor, and he's a pretty famous preacher in Reformed circles. You can download some of his sermons somewhere; maybe off the church Web site. Nicki knows, I'll ask her if you wanna know.

Anyhow, it was a very worshipful morning. Keller had a way of setting the scene that helped me feel like I was really with Mary at the open tomb. I was glad to celebrate the Resurrection with Nicki at that church.

I think it would have been nicer if we had known someone at the church. A buddy of ours, Will Joseph, is an RTS graduate and an intern at Redeemer. However, he's out of the country for the time being, and so we were kinda disconnected, especially during coffee time after the service. We left early to scout out Easter brunch, which was one of Nicki's primary to-dos.

We left church and started walking toward Central Park. We stumbled across Madison Avenue -- ritzier than the Ritz, folks -- a few blocks toward the park. We thought, certainly there will be a brunch place around that area. After some searching, we stopped in one of the high-rise apartment buildings to speak to the doorman -- yeah, the apartment buildings have doormen. Swankatank.

The dude was so nice. We told him what we were up to, and he suggested a couple of places he knew about, including this "little cafe just a few blocks up, on the left. You'll have to step down off the sidewalk into it."

We followed his advice and stumbled upon Chat Noir, on 66th Street off Madison Ave. You can see a review and video here. We sat in the far left corner. There's even a close-up of our table on the video!

Kids, lemme tell you, this place was out of sight (it was a step off the sidewalk), out of this world (the food was great) and out of our league! This was certainly not a touristy place. The wait staff, which was all francais, paid special attention to the regulars, and there were large family groups there for Easter brunch. And of course, we paid for Easter Brunch. Une carte speciale, Prix Fixe. Three courses. The mamosas, unincluded, were $12 apiece. Good thing we only had one each.

Nicki, bless her heart, had a fruit plate and a belgian waffle. When she ordered, I knew I had to step it up to at least pretend like we were getting our money's worth, so I made sure to have salmon as part of my first two courses. The Salmon, er, I can't remember the name now, and it's not on the online brunch menu. Anyway, it was a salmon steak surrounded in a baguette slice with a buttery, savory sauce. Can you help me out Kari? Anywho, fabulous. I had baked alaska and most of Nicki's tarte pomme for dessert. It was definitely everything we hoped Easter Brunch in Manhattan would be, and our one major splurge. Worth every penny; worth every bite.

The weather was beautiful. A perfect day to be outside. We took a stroll through Central Park and back down Broadway before heading to the airport. What a perfect trip. So much more to tell than this blog can hold. New York was definitely a trip I'll always remember for the fun, the food, the partnership I shared with my amazing and beautiful wife.

It was all but perfect.

I usually just eat what I hit on the street

2008-04-07T17:46:00.002-04:00

NEW YORK -- But in the Greatest City in the World, at least they'll cook it for you, too.

We did lunch "on our own" before going to the theatre on Saturday. Translated, that means Nicki packs something, and I come up with something.

I love street vendors. I had many a dog from the Hot Dog Man during my time at UGA, and every Sunday, I had a kabap-frites from the dude up the street during my semester in Avignon, France. They don't have street vendors in Jackson because everybody lives in the burbs and they don't want to look at the person of color cooking (and spitting in) their food.

New York is street-vendor Mecca, and I enjoyed them hobbit-style before the show. Hot dogs in Central Park for Second Breakfast and then falafel on 42nd Street for Elevensies. Greasy, delicious.

But dinner was the real treat. Nicki's friend Allie recommended Rice in Nolita (I thought it was Soho, but the Web site said otherwise). It's a Thai-Indian restaurant that was fabulous and affordable. Nicki had the Pad Thai and I had the red pepper curry with chicken. It was exceptional.

Nowhere in NY did we eat for more than $40 (except for Easter brunch, but more on that later). We could have done that in Jackson and eaten worse food, but we decided to do it in NY and eat really good food (not including the dogs and falafel). It's all in who you know.

We gave our regards to Broadway!

2008-04-07T16:19:00.005-04:00

NEW YORK -- When we were planning our trip, Nicki asked me what was the ONE thing I wanted to do during the weekend. (Not because I could only do one thing, but for prioritizing purposes, or so she said.)

I replied in one word: BROADWAY!

Seriously, what would my first trip to New York be without a show? My acting career had the range of the Nile. My characters go from Charlie Brown to Hans Bronson. If there was only one thing I could do in New York, it would be taking in the theatre.

So we did!

And we did it better than I could have imagined. Initially, we wanted to go see "Cat On a Hot Tin Roof", which recently reopened starring Claire Huxtable and the voice of Darth Vader. We soon discovered that was a little ambitious (check out those prices!).

One of Nicki's cousins (here she goes with those contacts again) told us about the fabulous trick to getting more affordable show tickets, called TKTS. I don't know what that stands for, but I know what it's good for. Getting great seats to great shows for a great price.

We showed up at the booth, which was in the heart of Times Square, at 10 a.m., with a flexible plan for what we wanted to see: "Cat", "Rent", some others I can't remember right now. The trick to the whole thing is flexibility because you don't know what's going to be available when you go, and you buy tickets on the day of the show (theatres sell their surplus tickets this way). While we were in the extraordinarily long line (think Six Flags on a summer Saturday) that moved incredibly fast (think boa constrictor squeezing its prey), we ran into a dude who told us about Avenue Q (see above photo). He said it was 20-to-30-somethings, just out of college, not knowing what they want to do. Hmm, that sounded familiar. Oh, and it's puppets.

But this wasn't your typical Muppet Show:

How's that for shock value! I loved it (Nicki was pretty offended at times, but she said she liked it, too). It was always hilarious, often vulgar. I was a little disappointed with its nihilistic bent, but entertained nevertheless.

Our seats were fantastic. We didn't even think to ask for orchestra seats, but sat second row! That means we were really close, but didn't have to deal with getting spit on like the front row. It was a fabulous, intimate theatre experience. Do you like how I spell theatre T-H-E-A-T-R-E? I'm very snobby now.

After all that, I am ready to make our next trip to New York a trip to Broadway. A show everyday. TKTS everyday. Highly recommend it. Can't wait to go again.

Randomly, when departing our matinee show, we saw the Shaggin' Wagon. I wonder if they spent their life savings turning their van into a dog?

The Little Chapel that Stood

2008-04-04T11:07:00.009-04:00

NEW YORK -- When the twin towers of the World Trade Center crumbled as a result of the 9.11.2001 terrorist attacks, St. Paul's Chapel stood solid.

Only a block away from Ground Zero, St. Paul's had an unobstructed view of the violence and destruction, yet not a single stained-glass window was broken. The building is the oldest structure in the city in continuous use. It was George Washington's place of worship during the two years that New York was the U.S. capitol. The church that had such an intrigal impact on the nation's founders, became the center of support for New Yorkers during the 9.11 tragedy. Vigils formed outside the gates. Prayers were raised inside it's doors.

As we arrived at the chapel just to take a tourist's peak, they were starting a Good Friday worship service. We had been thinking about finding such a service, so it kinda fell into our laps. It was an Episcopal service, which was a little weird for us Reformers, but it was good to be with believers on the day we recognize Christ's profound sacrifice.

One of the coolest things about our visit was meeting chapel one of the priests who was a heavily tatted dude with an earing. I just love counter-culture clergy. I really think a person with a fancy for the fringe is an important piece for reaching people who might completely reject Jesus without making contact with a religious leader with similar leanings. The Church, to some extent, needs to be all things to all people ... but let's try not to lose sight of the Gospel while doing that. (I suspected St. Paul's was losing it's grip in some ways, influenced by the pressure of a pluralistic society.)

One of the uncoolest things about our visit was that someone lifted Nicki's gloves. That sort of ruined an othewise spectacular day for her.

So many names on the temporary plaques at Ground Zero. It was similar to reading the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington, D.C. No Shepards or Barans, but so many people who still felt like family. So overwhelming that I kinda felt my emotions turn off; my mind really went into survival mode while I was there. Glad I went. Don't really know how to process what I took in.

Live from New York!

2008-04-04T09:53:00.011-04:00

NEW YORK -- Ah, Lady Liberty. With her in mind, please feel FREE to chastise me for taking so long posting these photos and about our excellent trip to the Greatest City in the World.

The statue wasn't so far from our hotel. We were a little upset when the hotel concierge told us that we had to take a train to Liberty State Park, which on the map looked like it was about a mile away. Totally walkable for Team Shepard. We discovered a few days later while on a morning run that there is an inlet into a marina that would have prevented us from getting there on foot. We may be crazy, but we're not swimming in the Hudson with the temperatures in the 40s, but only because we didn't have our wetsuits with us!

We spent our first morning in New York checking out Ellis Island. Nicki's Dad is a German-born immigrant of a Belgian mother and Polish father, and we thought that maybe he came in through the island, which was the main entry point during the transition into and the first half of the 20th century. We found out that Ellis Island closed as an immigration point in 1952 or so, which was about two years before Paul and his family came to the U.S. Still not sure where he got in, and how he slipped past the customs agents;)

We avoided going to the Statue of Liberty because it is a tourist trap to the nth degree. Ellis Island had a cool museum, fewer souvenir shops, no sidewalk vendors and people more or less under control. It was cool to learn about all the screening practices performed on the immigrants, the way coming to the U.S. separated families and how Ellis Island was either the island of hope or island of despair. People were either highly rewarded for their sacrifices during their travel, or they faced the dread of having to return under the same terrible steerage conditions.

We took the ferry to lower Manhattan and took a long, slow, take-it-all-in walk up Broadway as we headed toward Soho for lunch. For the uninitiated, this section of Broadway has nothing to do with theater; it's the financial district. Like many folks in the City that Friday, we took a photo with the Brass Bull (which, by the way, has brass, um, well, you know) hoping for the return of a bull market in the U.S. We need the dollar to regain some strength. We can't have all those European imperialists thinking they're returning to power.

Lunch was the product of Nicki's amazing network of friends. We followed Allie's recommendation, and went to the nation's first pizzaria. We met Kristine, one of Nicki's close high school pals, and her boyfriend Matt in Soho for lunch. Kristine and Matt met at Dartmouth. He now works in Greenwhich, Conn., in some kind of finance job that was WAY over my head, and she's pursuing her MBA at Yale. So, if I didn't already feel academically intimidated by my wife, I was really under the weight of overachievement during lunch. Good thing the pizza was incredible and enough to take my mind off my shortcomings in the classroom.

So about this pizza: We got the Margaritta, which is really simple, but the quality of the ingredients made the flavor so much more than I expected. The fresh mozzarella was sweet, not bitter at all. And Nicki and I love fresh basil. That reminds me, we've been meaning to go by Lowe's and get a basil tree to cut from. Hmmm, now that we're back in Jackson, sounds like we have weekend plans!

But back to the trip: We split up from Kristine and Matt after lunch and headed to Ground Zero, where we took in the scene, and went to a Good Friday service at a small chapel a block away from the former site of the Twin Towers. More on that in a bit.

We took 12 hours to do what we could have in 2

2008-03-20T20:49:00.002-04:00

JERSEY CITY, N.J. — We rose at 5 a.m. CDT, we arrived out our hotel at 6 p.m. EDT. For those counting, that's a 12-hour travel day.

The disappointing part of that is our original flight would have gotten us here at 10:45 a.m. EDT, enough time to get some sight-seeing in on our first day in New York. Our itinerary, developed by Nicki, had us going to Ground Zero and across the Brooklyn Bridge, but today was no match for her best-laid plans. Heck, forget about not arriving at the expected time, we didn't even land in the expected airport.

The adventure wasn't all bad, however.

On the flight from D.C. Reagan to Laguardia, the flight attendants broke out Oreos, thus sending Nicki into her familiar routine. The girl eats at least three Oreos every day. She unscrews the first two, licks some of the cream out and dips each side in milk individually. But the third one, now that's the gem.

The third Oreo goes entirely into the milk to soak to just the right sogginess (but still a little crunch — can't have it sticking to the side of the cup). At just the right moment, Nicki goes bottoms up and drinks the Oreo down with the last bit of milk. It's a special moment, as you can see. Good to know that at 30,000 feet, you can still have some of the comforts of home.

I got to chow down on some Eistein Bros' omelet bagels at lunch in D.C. It was the only good part of that leg of the trip. Nicki got real sick during the landing at Reagan. Due to the size of the no-fly zone around the Capitol, pilots almost have to drop the plane out of the sky like it's going down the first decent of the Great American Scream Machine. Such an unexpected decent left Nicki a little queezy, but she didn't puke. I almost did, however, when I couldn't find a TV to watch my Dawgs play their first round NCAA tournament game, which also happened to be in D.C. at the same time we were there. I was there with ya fellas, getting updates all the way to the tarmac.

We touched down at Laguardia around 4:30 p.m., and we were lucky to find a helpful person to give us tips on how to navigate the transit system to our hotel. It was a good sign consistent of the kind of people we ran into on our trip. Despite all the adjusting, we had nothing but helpful people making it possible the whole way, from the Continental folks getting us on an early flight out of Jackson to the Delta lady who moved us through the line at Reagan, to the Tulane student in New York to see his sister that helped us on the bus and train.

And this is what we arrived to — a beautiful view of the city from across the Hudson River. Nicki and I had a fabulous dinner in the Newport Marina, did some grocery shopping, and now we're settling down for the night. The itinerary has us headed to Ellis Island in the morning, then to lunch with one of Nicki's childhood pals.

Looking forward to making up for lost time.

Delayed gratification

2008-03-20T09:13:00.003-04:00

Hope the Big Apple doesn't rot before we can take a bite out of it.

Our original flight to Newark, N.J., was canceled, so we're hanging out in the Jackson-Evers International Airport waiting for a flight to Washington, D.C., from where we will connect to Laguardia. But the plane we're taking to D.C. hasn't yet arrived in Jackson, so we're already another half-hour late for that flight.

We're so happy we get to spend most of our first day on vacation at the airport Starbucks!

The only redeeming factor here is that I will be able to say that I was in D.C. to watch my my Dawgs continue their improbable postseason run in the first round of the NCAA tournament. I just hope they have TVs around the baggage claim and check-in counters, because apparently, we have to redo everything once we get to Reagan Airport.

Our direct flight to Newark seemed too good to be true when we bought it. Turns out we were right.

Welcome to the newest citizen of the Bullodg Nation

2008-03-14T16:36:00.002-05:00

A big congratulations is due to my favorite Whitefolks ever on the birth of their third child and first son John Watson White. What a day!

Daniel and I go back to high school and spent many hours doing crossword puzzles on the last row of the UGA physics auditorium during weather and climate. I've been as far as Ghana with Katie. There couldn't be two people better equipping to raise children who will be key members of the Body of Christ. They truly are beautiful people.

And they are great Bulldogs! You can't walk from downtown Athens to the stadium on a football Saturday and not run into the White/Dowis tailgate. The question to ask for Mr. JW is if he'll sing Glory, Glory before he says Mama.

It's in the bag

2008-03-14T13:21:00.003-05:00

Per the request of our favorite anglophonic francophile, it seems a brief ontological study of the musette is in order.

I referred to the musette in a previous post in a cycling contest, when the word represents a bag used to hand food and fluids to cyclists during long races. The bag gets its name from a type of bag pipe popular in French high society in the 17th and 18th centuries. I couldn't find out for sure, but I speculate that early cyclists may have actually used old bag pipes of this sort for carrying food during long rides.

In our musettes during last weekend's Rouge Roubaix, we usually put in two water bottles as well as a banana or cliff bar. The idea is to throw the bag over your shoulder, take the bottles and food out of the bag, put them in the pockets in the back of your jersey, then throw the bag on the ground to be picked up by the support crew on their way to the next feed zone. More experienced cyclists can do this without slowing their pace. Because they're easily lost on the side of the road after the cyclists toss them away, they're usually made of cheap, but sturdy fabrics.

So there you have it. Musette mystery solved.

The Rouge left us noir et bleu

2008-03-11T11:19:00.018-05:00

ST. FRANCISVILLE, La. — The night before the Rouge Roubaix I dreamed of winning the B race, or at least being the first Category 5 rider across the line. What I awoke to on Sunday, however, was a nightmare of broken roads, sketchy gravel and punishing distance.

It was awesome!

Well, maybe that's a bit strong, but it was challenging and that makes it at least somewhat fun for us. Pre-race, our hotel room sort of became a team headquarters.

Nicki and I weren't planning on riding together during this race, but we still wanted to keep up one of our pre-race traditions. We always take a moment to pray a prayer of thankfulness before the gun. We are constantly amazed at what kinds of tests our bodies can pass. We are each fascinated by the human body, the crown of God's creation.

The plan was for Nicki to ride with Jason (right) and for me to ride with Michael, who is the team coach and a Rouge veteran. The problem with this is that we are all of differing ability levels. Accordingly, the team cohesiveness was completely obliterated within the first 20 miles.

One of the best parts of the race was the support team. Brian, my famed friend, classmate and teammate sat the race out because he's been dealing with some sickness. Nevertheless, the dude and his wife Emily (the photographer and also a great friend to Nicki and me) drove us down and split the hotel room with us. The pair are experienced cyclists (Brian raced the Rouge last year) and have worked in a bike shop. Brian has done a great job teaching us about and doing work on our bikes. Emily made our musettes (food bags) for the feed zones. It was an incredible display of teamwork.

Here's Nicki approaching the first feed zone. It was a special new skill to learn how to take the feed bag, slip it over our heads, remove the water bottles and food and put them in our jersey pockets without stopping the bikes. The swing from the bag after it was transfered into her hands nearly knocked her off the bike during this feed zone. I made the transition successfully only once. A definite challenge.

Despite the bad roads, there was some beautiful scenery along the route.

I was pretty ragged out after I finished the third and final gravel section. My legs may not have been broken, but my spirit was. I rode the final 18 miles solo. I caught a couple of guys who had passed me, but no one wanted to race; we were all just trying to finish.

My legs needed a break at the finish area.

Our dreams may not have come true, but we did arrive at the finish physically unbroken. The results are still incomplete due to the head official falling ill the night before the race and ensuing problems in finding a replacement. But Nicki was top 10 among the women, continuing her string of success. I'm looking forward to knowing how I measured up to other guys in my category. But 73rd in such an epic race, coupled with the fact that it was my first mass-start, is OK with me.

None of the races during the rest of the season are this tough, which gives me hope for better results.

We finished.

2008-03-09T15:36:00.002-05:00

ST. FRANCISVILLE, La. — Ouch.

More later, hopefully with photos.

Legs are shaved and ready to ride

2008-03-08T20:21:00.002-05:00

ST. FRANCISVILLE, La. — Nicki and I are settling in for the night, hoping to dream of future podium finishes.

Roll-out time for the Rouge Roubaix B race is 8:15 a.m. tomorrow. We arrived here around 4:30 p.m., just enough time to connect with the rest of our team and do a little course reconnaissance before the sun went down.

The 101.3-mile course has three gravel sections. Fortunately, the rain has left these sections relatively well packed and much easier to navigate. There is a 3-mile stretch two-thirds into the race with some pretty killer climbs. I hope I have enough strength at that point to make some other folks suffer.

All-in-all, it's our first mass-start race and there are so many things I just don't know about. There will be more than 100 riders in our race. I'd love to do well, but honestly, I'd be happy if I finished with my body and my bike in one piece!

Strade bianchi!

2008-03-08T08:49:00.005-05:00

Nicki and I are headed down to Louisianne, the land of French on the road signs, to make our first mass-start race.

It's the Rouge Roubaix named after the Paris-Roubaix, one of the biggest one-day races on the European pro calendar, but modeled more like the Monte Paschi Eroica, which starts today in Italy. Like the Eroica, the Rouge has long stretches of gravel roads.

Keep in mind, this is not a mountain-bike race, but one for road bikes with skinny tires. The risk of flatting (popping a tube or the dreaded ripping of the actual tire) is high. The higher the risk of flatting, the higher the risk of crashing. And that's never fun.

It's a high-risk, high-reward kind of endeavor. So we looked at each other and said, "Sign us up!"

There are six folks from our team registered, and the plan is to break up into two teams during the race. We'll all ride in the B race (which is made up of Category 4s and 5s, women and juniors. I'll ride in support of a couple of Cat. 4s, and then two other guys will ride in support of Nicki! That means that she is highlighted as one of our best chances to earn high team points. The team is trying to put her on the podium! She's like our Lance Armstrong.

The race starts Sunday morning and we're going to St. Francisville (the start) to spend the night tonight. Check back for updates throughout and root for Nicki!

You play journalism flute? I dabble.

2008-03-08T08:26:00.002-05:00

Good to know that my writing is still worth something.

The NCAA chose Millsaps College, which is about a mile away from the house, to host one of its sub-regionals for the Division III tournament this weekend. This is great news for an out-of-work hack like myself, because it means out-of-town papers will call you to freelance. The event is too far away, and the schools are not important enough to the readership to invest in travel for the staff beat writers.

This is not the case in the SEC. The basketball was bad (in the first game, both teams had more turnovers than field goals in the first half). But it was money, so to speak.

This story got me $50, and this one netted $75. I worked from 5:30 p.m. until 11; that's more than $20 an hour. I like that pay rate.

This all comes a week after I had to tell my old paper that I couldn't help them out during the state high school basketball tournament because they wanted to pay me $75 for two games when they had been paying me $50 per game during the fall to cover football. I could have used the money, but I thought that I needed to have some sort of standard for my work. I chalked it up to practice for when I have to set my price for my private counseling practice.

Anyway, it all worked out. My connection that got me the work this weekend? My old boss, who apparently also knows what it's like to cover bad basketball (I don't care if it was tw buzzer-beaters, it's the SWAC). Thanks Rusty. You're good people.

Just when you thought I couldn't get any dumber

2008-03-07T11:53:00.002-05:00

I'm thinking about doing something kinda counter-culture.

Thank Shannon for the inspiration.

Let's look into the future ...

2008-03-07T09:41:00.002-05:00

Is this the future of Blessed Endurance?

A word of caution: A fag to a Briton is something completely different than what it is to an American.