Mrs. B!

I was out buying a baby shower gift the other day and it was requested that you bring a book signed by you for the baby.  My "go-to" book for these kinds of occasions is Dr. Seuss' "Oh the Places You'll Go!"  Whenever I think of this story, my mind immediately travels back in time to the very last day of high school in Mrs. Brown's English class. I wish I could accurately describe Mrs. B....but I don't think I can.  She didn't fit the mold...she broke the mold.  As I was thinking about her, I thought I should tell the world about her, at least my little part of the world.

Mrs. B was probably one of the most influential teachers in my life.  Going to a small Christian school meant that you had a lot of the same teachers throughout the years.  Often times they taught classes for both 7th graders and seniors.  I had her for 5 of my 6 years on the high school side of the road. Every year, every week, we had spelling and vocab lists.  Thanks to her, I can spell!   Every year, we continued to diagram sentences.  We read books...we took quizzes...we took tests on Hamlet...we wrote haikus and limericks...we memorized and recited poems...we even had to memorize part of the prologue to Canterbury tales (have you looked at old english before?) She pushed and pulled us in every way.  Our senior projects prepared us for college in big ways.  Each of these projects took the whole semester to complete....on top of the weekly vocab lists, diagramming sentences, and weekly readings/quizzes.  (English in college had nothing on this lady!) 1st semester-epic poem written in iambic pentameter and a whole bunch of other rules regarding number of lines, etc.  I wrote mine on Chuck Yeager.   Second semester-thesis driven paper.  I did mine on how the Chronicles of Narnia were written to parallel the Bible.  Notecards, hours in the library, countless outlines, drafts, etc.  Mrs. B was hard...she was relentless...she pushed us....but she wasn't afraid to let loose, grab her "sword" and stand upon her desk as we read Shakespeare.  She read with fiery passion and diagrammed sentences with intensity.  Every January when class resumed, we had to come back with what our favorite and least favorite presents were and she kept a running tally for all grades.  While I will never say that English lit and grammar were my favorite subjects, I will tell you that this was my favorite class.  When I say that Mrs. B broke the mold, I mean that she didn't necessarily fit the stereotype of a Christian school teacher.  She was a woman of strong faith who wasn't afraid to be her.  She was very encouraging of me for choosing to go to a public university and choosing to take my faith to the world.  She pushed us to find who we were, what we liked doing, and to go out there and do it.  So on the last day of high school, when she got up in front of the class to read "Oh the Places You'll Go", and told us to get out there and do good and she started to cry, we knew.  We knew she had been preparing her little birds, all these years, to be ready to fly on our own.  She gave me tools that I still remember and use almost 20 years later. 

 "You're off to great places! Today is your day!" You're off to college, today IS the day.  “You'll get mixed up, of course, as you already know. You'll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go. So be sure when you step. Step with care and great tact and remember that life's a great balancing act. Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. And never mix up your right foot with your left.” Don't get mixed up with the wrong crowd in college.  "Your mountain is waiting...now get on your way." 

Thanks to Mrs. B I started to learn about getting out into the world, about getting out of my comfort zone, and that I didn't have to fit into some standard mold.  I didn't completely come to grips with the entirety of those lessons until I came to camp and it become real, but I had someone who started that long ago.  You were a heck of a teacher!  Heck, you still are from what I hear!

February 14, 2017

Valentine's Day...2017....a day I won't soon forget.  I have thought about this day every day since then.  I can tell you where I was, how I felt, and what I was doing when I got the news.  Thinking of that day, the emotions flood back, the tears have to be held back, it's like opening a scab on a wound that's still fresh. It's been hard to say out loud...we talk about the "events", the "girls" but it's hard to say it.  To say that Libby and Abby were murdered, that their lives were taken at too early of an age, that some sick bastard did unspeakable things to them and is still out there...I can't say it.  I have seen loss before but never loss that wasn't accidental or due to illness/age.  These lives were forcibly taken by the sick actions of an animal (because whoever would do this has no conscience).

Everything looked different after that...everything felt different...town, people, everything had such a solemn quiet air about it.  When you went into town, the air felt electric, but not in the good way.  News vans everywhere you can see.  You'd see them outside your normal shops but the last thing I wanted was to be stopped and asked about the situation.  It was way too fresh, too raw, emotions were running rampant.  FBI vans, lots of police, lots of activity that this little town has never seen before.  This town was not known before and now will unfortunately be known as a place of tragedy.  As much as the suspect's picture has been featured, once he is caught, I hope his face is not plastered across FB but that we remember the lives he devastated.  He should get no fame, no press from this.  The support from surrounding schools and communities has been amazing.  Sad that it takes tragedy to pull us together despite our differences.  What can happen if we do that more?

When I got the news that Monday evening that the girls were missing, something didn't feel right.  I had the privilege back in 2014 to coach these two young ladies in volleyball.  We were not the most talented group to say it lightly....most had never touched a volleyball in any organized fashion before.  Abby and Libby were always eager to learn.  Lots of life.  Lots of joy.  Honest, good teammates, good friends.  We learned a lot together.  It was my first time coaching...it was their first time in school sports.  I wanted so much to teach them more than just volleyball but about being a good teammate, a good sport.  These kids caught on much more than I ever expected.  We had instituted a "rule" that if you didn't call for the ball during scrimmage, everyone on your "side" ran from mid line to the end line of the basketball court and then back to your spot.  So your actions affected the whole team.  And your teammates held you accountable.  Of course they complained at first...who doesn't?  But eventually they stopped complaining and would just do it when I called out, "No one called!"  But one time....one time....they didn't call for it and I didn't catch it....and they looked at me and admitted, "We didn't call for it." And so they themselves called it out and they ran.  At this moment, I knew they understood.  I was as proud of them in that moment as I was the first time they won a game (and only time!).  The second time I was proud of them was when I realized that we were one point away from winning our first game and I saw that the other team's worst server was up (and she had special needs) and I called time out right away.  Everyone, even my co-coach, was super confused but I explained that, more than likely, that girl was going to miss her serve and we would win.  But I wanted to explain how to be a gracious winner.  We had lost a lot, we hopefully had taught them to lose with grace but now we needed to win with grace as well.  I didn't want them to celebrate and yell because of how that girl would feel...the same way we felt for most of the season.  I sent them back out and reminded them that they could be happy but our celebration would occur in the locker room.  As excited as I could tell that they were, they held their giddiness in and won the game gracefully.  They celebrated like fools in the locker room but that was okay.  Good kids, solid kids, kids I didn't think were capable of running away or being irresponsible.  I had a terrible gut feeling that something wasn't right and I prayed and hoped that I was wrong.  But I wasn't wrong and I wish I had been.  Your heart can break, your heart can heal, but it won't be the same.  God heals the brokenhearted.  Our God is in control.  Our world is evil. But our home is not here. Keep in mind those who go home to an empty room, an empty chair at the table for they will live this over for weeks and years to come.  Pray for justice on earth as I know that justice in Heaven will surely be done.
Psalm 34:18 "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

Embrace the Suck-Spartan round 2

About a month ago I participated in my second Spartan Sprint.  After my first race in May, I knew exactly what I was getting myself into and I knew I had to be prepared to be pushed mentally and physically but also knew how I'd feel in the days following the race.  (Read that as..."not so good"!) But it was going to be nice to experience the race with a partner.  So Emelyn and I road tripped down to Atlanta to volunteer for the kids race on Saturday and then run the race Sunday.  It was a much cheaper way to race when you volunteer because you get a free race out of the deal.  We decided that since kids were our specialty, why not volunteer for the kids race?! We drove down Friday to Conyers, GA and got up early the next morning to head to what we would later find out to be the site of the 1996 Olympic Equestrian cross country course.  It was chilly...cold for Georgia...and we met up with some outgoing crazy fun folks and waited for the kids to show up.  Our job was very simple.  Move a ribbon from one side to the other depending on if older kids were coming through (1 mile course) or the younger kids (1/2 mile course).  It was fun to watch the kids and encourage them.  It was cold and the kids had to get wet right off the bat so by the time they got to us, they were wet, cold, and many were crying and shivering.  I felt bad for them but I was also pretty pleased to see that no one was giving up.  They may have wanted to and maybe their parents wouldn't have let them if they tried, but they stayed on course.  A big part of the Spartan founder's ideals is how do you deal with obstacles in your life?  Groan, mumble, complain?  Or run at it, conquer it, embrace the opportunity to become stronger?  Spartan races came onto the scene around 5 or so years ago.  He wanted to push people out of their comfort zones and intentionally put obstacles in their way that they would have to work through.  But let's get back to this particular race.  After eating out at Outback steakhouse and getting plenty of protein (and some carbs in those potatoes!), it was an early bedtime for us.  We'd already napped after volunteering (who knew how tiring that would be?!) but it wasn't hard to fall asleep.  We had decided to choose the early race time the next morning due to the incoming rain.  No matter what, it was going to be a chilly 40 degree rainy day, but might as well get there before the course got too torn up.

When we got to the race, no rain...yet.  As we got ourselves ready and stood in the line up corral, still no rain.  Just before our wave started though, it began to really rain.  So we're wet before we start.  Good old Georgia red mud. We get going at a good pace-jumping over walls, crawling under walls, climbing over round bales, running through the woods.  No burpees yet.  About 20 minutes in we hit the monkey bars...these aren't your average playground monkey bars.  Big bars, staggered up and down, and fairly far away from each other.  I didn't get past the first one when I did my first Spartan and I had been using the monkey bars at camp's playground to practice (however they are much smaller in diameter and close together).  My goal was to do better than last time.  And I was able to make it to the 3rd one...but it still meant 30 burpees for not finishing.  Off to the Atlas stone.  Pick up a 40 pound cement ball, walk it to the other side, drop and do 5 burpees, pick the ball back up and return it.  By now it is so wet and sloppy out.  Off to the mud pits to climb in and out of leading right into the barbed wire crawl.  It was actually a tad bit higher than the one in OH and I could crawl a little easier but once it got too low, I rolled.  And that always makes me SO dizzy...and so sick.  Still feeling pretty good. I wasn't soaked to the bone and freezing yet.  My hands were pretty wet and starting to feel cold but that was it. I think that there were a few walls after that point.  I helped Emelyn up and then I got a hand from other folks.  One cool thing about Spartan racers is that they are totally willing to help one another but will let you have the chance to try it yourself first.  I don't remember all the obstacles but I do remember the cargo net in the middle of the run.  We walked up to a straight cliff and I know that I didn't see the net at first and I was like, "Holy &*% ....how the....?" Oh wait, there's a cargo net.  Emelyn and I started up but there was a lady who was really nervous about going up.  Who knows if it was a height issue or feeling unstable on the net but she wasn't having it.  Her friends had gone up first and she was at the bottom.  Emelyn got behind her and I was beside her and we encouraged her up that net.  She was super excited to get to the top.  Somewhere in the next few miles included a bucket brigade, spear throw (30 more burpees!), and more.  When I got to the dunk wall, that water was so so cold.  It was the first time I was going to get my head wet.  As I jumped in and made my way to the wall, I had a hard time gathering myself to go under the wall.  Once I did, it totally took my breath away....actually took my breath away.  But I also had water in my eyes and didn't have anything clean to them off with and walked around blind for a few seconds until I took the inside of my shirt and wiped my face.  Once I opened my eyes, my contacts were actually fogged up!  That's cold man!  As someone else said, "Now this shit is real!"  Soon after the dunk wall was the rope climb (made it higher than last time! I've got to practice this!)....30 more burpees.  I think that the slip wall was next...no issues.  After that we ran back into the woods, away from the mainstand area.  You know you're close to the end but not too close and now it's all down to grit.
What is grit?  According to wikipedia it's, "psychology is a positive, non-cognitive trait based on an individual's passion for a particular long-term goal or end state, coupled with a powerful motivation to achieve their respective objective."  This is where I started my mantra of embrace the suck.  This was turning into a mind numbing part of the race.  You know it sucks, it hurts, you're cold and you could moan and complain and focus on what's cold/hurting OR you could completely embrace that, of course, this isn't the most desirable situation but you're going to go into it with the best attitude you can muster and tackle the challenges head on, as best you can, and get through it...and smile through it (try it, it works!)  You're sliding down hills, carrying a 20 pound sand bag through a never ending creek that's full of pot holes, your feet feel like concrete weights that hurt with every step, but the faster you do the obstacles and the faster you run, the quicker you get to the other side...in this case, the finish line.  Sometimes in life we need to embrace the suck.  While we won't know the finish line like you'll know during a race, it still helps to embrace the situation and tackle it head on with the best attitude possible.  

I didn't feel the full effect of the cold until Emelyn and I hit the finish line (we raced across!).  After we crossed and they gave us our medals, shirts, bananas, and fit aid, I started to shake.  I couldn't wait to get warm clothes on.  I tried to rinse off but couldn't and just went in to the tent to change.  I could tell that mild hypothermia was setting in because cognitive function was not so good....Emelyn can attest to that. ;-) haha  After getting dry clothes on (but unfortunately I had brought sandals to wear back to the car....my feet were not in good shape by the time we got back!) we went into the med tent to get blankets and try to warm up some.  After 10 minutes there, we had to walk the MILE back to the car.  My feet were hurting so bad...it was still raining...but finally....we get back to the truck.  First step, warm truck up!  Second step, dry feet and put them into some warm socks.  We waited there for a while to warm up and process everything.  Despite the frigidness of the day though, it was a great race!  I ran it MUCH faster than my first one (1 hr 55 min), I did 1 less set of burpees, and even though I still failed a few obstacles, I got farther on them.  It was after this race that I decided to pursue a trifecta in 2017.  That means that I will attempt to run and complete each of Spartans race distances-sprint (3-5 miles), super (8-10 miles), and beast (12-14 miles). I have committed to the Colorado weekend in May over Mother's Day-a super on Saturday and the sprint on Sunday (I'm going to be in a world of hurt!) and then the beast in Central Florida in December.  Aroo!