So what do I do?

I feel my heart breaking. 

It is not a simple cut or scratch or tear, but a rift being drawn through the middle of my heart.

I have never been much of a downtown type of person. In fact, the idea of being downtown has always scared me. I remember back in high school having a homeless man try to kiss my on the 16^th street mall and how scared that left me of the entire city for years (that and my complete lack of direction, I get lost way too easy).

Recently I have started spending a whole lot more time downtown, it probably has something to do with getting a job right off of 16^th.  And suddenly something that I have always known about but never really saw started to look me straight in the face. You see instead of seeing the homeless from inside my car on the street corner. Now they are right next to me, asking for help.

So what do I do?

Today I walked by a man, his head was bleeding and he kept mumbling to himself about how evil this city is and how he wished he had never came.

So what do I do?

Last week I had a man come up to me and tell me about how he just got out of prison and just needed a couple of dollars so that he could spend the night in a shelter. He said he would normally earn the money by begging on the corner but he was at his required psych appointment and just needed a helping hand.

So what do I do?

My heart breaks because I want to help so badly. I long to offer a meal or a hot cup of coffee. To sit down and have a conversation with them, hear their life story. But somehow I keep wrapped up in my daily life, in my wants and desires and needs that I pretend that I’m in my car that I don’t see them and will keep on going.

So what do I do?

For now, I’m going to pray, and I think I’m going to try to find a local shelter or soup kitchen to volunteer at. And not something just to appease these feelings of guilt, but something that really can make a difference in lives, both theirs and mine.  

Post Race Thoughts of a 70.3

I love racing. It’s the validation that every hour put into training was worth it, and a reminder that if I worked a little bit harder it would pay off as well. I would say that was defiantly true of this race.

It is always interesting to me, the range of emotions that you see from people at the beginning of the race. Somehow I always find some weak swimmers and begin to talk to them. They are worried about finishing the swim while I am worried about finishing. I laughed inside as one of them asked me swimming technique questions right before the horn was blown. The swim is easy for me. I am still not the most fantastic swimmer in the world but I know that I can go the distance without stopping. I found my rhythm and stuck with it. I enjoyed passing people from the wave before me and pushing a little harder when those who started after me began to pass me.

Then it was time for the bike. I put aero bars onto my bike months ago but have been too afraid to use them. So I challenged myself to use them as far as possible. I made an entire half of the course down in them. The bike course is beautiful it starts with a climb and then gives you a fast downhill to enjoy. I am not the best climber so I would laugh at the fact that people would pass me on the uphill just to have me pass them coming back down. I love the bike ride; I think it is why I do the entire race. It is my treat for getting in a good swim and a reminder that I’m not done yet. At the very end of my bike ride I was passed by a girl named Stephanie who I had met that morning. She had had a bike accident earlier in the race and looked like she was in an incredible amount of pain. I was so impressed that even though her body had been ripped apart she was still going to do everything she could to finish the race.

The run, the part I dread the most was my favorite part of the day. I had grand dreams of trying to run as far as I could before getting into a run/walk but getting off the bike I knew it was too hot and I had used up to much energy on the bike to accomplish this goal. So I began running a couple of minutes and then would walk for one. I was so surprised when I got to the first aid station. Leaving the aid station I heard someone call out my name. It was Stephanie, they had pulled her off the course to the medic tent after the bike but she had insisted that she wanted to finish and so they had let her. She was ecstatic to find me and asked if I minded if we stuck together for the rest of the race. Together we continued on and through the next 12.1 miles we would take turns being discouraged while the other became the encourager. While triathlons are a sport where you are normally out there all on your own, we were blessed by each other’s presence.

On Sunday I did a Half Ironman. I did a Half Ironman. It still seems a little surreal. I mean I still fill the pain of it but I am still having a hard time getting it into my head that I was able to do it all and that I finished and have a finisher’s medal and more importantly a 70.3 sticker on its way to put on my car.

So some final observations:

·         I learned the importance of having a great tri club to support you; I felt like an adopted member of the Altitude Multisport Club and will definitely become a member next year.

·         I felt so blessed by friends and family. I don’t think I have ever been so supported at a race and I am so thankful for every person who came out and for everyone who kept pressing refresh all day on the Ironman web site.

·         If I put in the work I need to, I can trust myself to finish.

·         I do triathlons because I want to show the world and myself that I am stronger than I think, I am braver than I thought possible. I have the perseverance to get to the finish line and that I still have a lot to learn. 

·         I am proud of myself for finishing. Not in a cocky way but that I can look back to Sunday and sigh with content, I did it and I wouldn’t change a moment.

·         I can cross a 70.3 off of my bucket list and now a 140.6 is calling out my name. AZ 2012 prepare to be owned!

Feeling at odds

Sometimes I feel at odds with myself.

All around me I hear the world telling me that I am woman hear me roar. That I am capable of doing anything I want. I am strong and powerful. I am bold and get what I want.

I have also heard over and over again about how a good Christian woman is one who quiet and sincere. A woman who puts the needs of all others before their own. Someone who is selfless and obedient.

I feel at odds. I pride myself as being strong but caring. Beautiful but unafraid to get dirty. Powerful yet obedient. So I feel at odds, but I'm not really sure that I should. When I read through the Bible I see
Ruth and I feel that she was at odds to.

So you see in all honesty I want to be Ruth. You see she was a woman of selflessness. Even though she had no legal responsibility to follow her mother in law, she did it anyways. She was a woman of strength. She then went to the fields and gleaned to feed both her and her mother in law. She was a woman of obedience. When her mother in law told her of a way to talk to Boaz she did exactly what she was told. She was bold. She went and lied down at Boaz's feet as a sign that she wanted to marry him.

So maybe I don't have to be at odds but to embrace who God has meant me to be.

Because I am:
Strong
Beautiful
Loving
Sarcastic
Growing
Caring
Creative
Hopeful

Jehovah-Jireh

I was reminded today of one of my favorite stories of faith. The story of Abraham and Isaac. Abraham had been waiting forever for his son, the one that was to become the father of a nation. He had waited so long that he jumped the gun a little with a servant and subsequently birthed two nations. But that isn't my favorite part of the story. My favorite part is when God asks Abraham to sacrifice his only son as a sign of his devotion.

Just image it. You have a father and a son climbing up a mountain together (one that in my imagination looks suspiciously like Pikes Peak). The father has given the son a whole bunch of wood to carry, partly because he can't carry it all alone and partly to keeps his son's hands still. They begin the journey upward. Every step for the father feels as if he is walking through quicksand. He knows what his task is, and dreads it, but fears God more. The son walks a little lighter but is confused. Everything needed for a sacrifice is there except the sacrifice itself, it does not make sense but he continues anyway. At one point he turns around and asks his dad where the sacrifice is, to which his dad solemnly declares that the Lord will provide.

That right there is my favorite moment. Abraham does not know that God is going to give him a lamb. He has no idea that God is going to spare his son. He just knows that God provides. I have often wondered if maybe he thought that if God forced him to sacrifice this son that God would give him another, or if he had hoped all along that their would be a lamb in the end.

They got to the place of sacrifice. So Abraham did what he set out to do, he built the alter, and prepared his son to be the sacrifice. He took the very thing that meant the most to him and prepared it to be sacrificed. He took the son that he had waited so long for, the hope of a nation and prepared him for sacrifice. It was not until the very last moment that God stepped in and had an angel stop Abraham.

Jehovah-Jireh, The God who Provides.

I wish that I had the faith of Abraham. The ability to truly believe that God will provide for me however he sees fit. I look at my miserable attempts to sacrifice comforts and compare that to what Abraham and I feel ashamed, I mean really, giving up chocolate for a month is nothing compared to giving up a son. What is sadder still is how I actually thought I was strong enough to give up chocolate for a month, who was I kidding.

But that is the great part of faith. God knows me, and knows how hard I'm trying to put my complete faith in him. He sees my attempts and failures at sacrificing and takes them as the offering they were meant to be. He continues to mold me and shape me into the person that I am to become. Mostly though he provides. He provides me with a constant reminder of his love. He provides me with a hope for the future and healing for the past.

Jehovah-Jireh

Love is Patient

I have been very careful to follow the golden rule of Christianity, you know the one, never pray for patience because if you do God will give you a reason to be patient. I promise you I haven't prayed for patience, but I think that is the lesson I am learning anyways. How to be patient.

I have never been one to be patient. I want to see results and I want to see them now. I am great at starting new projects only to leave them when I don't see progress soon enough. I have dozens of quilts, and knitting projects just screaming to be finished yet I already know what project I want to start next.

Instead of praying for the patience I know I lacked I prayed instead that I would learn to love.

Funny thing about love though, love takes patience. So the first thing you think about is I Corinthians 13 right. Favorite passage of weddings everywhere. So right before this iconic verse, Paul is talking about some divisions in the church. They had been fighting over what spiritual gift was more important. So what does Paul say? Get over yourselves and learn how to love each other, and this is what it looks like. It's putting other people before yourself. It's being patient.

So what does that mean, I'm being given a lesson in patience, even though I didn't ask for it. I don't like it and it has been hard but I know it will make me a better person. The funny thing about this lesson in patience, it has been teaching me that I am in crazy love with my God.