In two weeks or so I hope to run the Old Reliable 10K in Downtown Raleigh. My intentions were to run in the City of Oaks Half Marathon on the same day but life got in the way and I found myself woefully behind in my training schedule. At some point "I'll start soon" turns into "Holy crap I'm supposed to run 8 miles today and the most I've run in the last month is 4." I can handle 6.2 right now.
Anniversaries are always a time to reflect on the time between. What's changed? What hasn't? Work has ramped up incredibly and in great ways. I've focused on strength training. We've gotten involved at church. All these things leave less time for running though I still find time for the occasional trek around the neighborhood or on the trail.
With all that said, I think it's time to retire this piece of work for now. I've got a few other creative projects I'm working on and I will post a link to them when they come.
Thanks for reading and check back for the new projects.
See you on the journey,
Ryan
Friday, October 21, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
A Ten Year Span
Five Years by Corbett Barr
There will be an agreement in whatever variety of actions, so they be each honest and natural in their hour. – Ralph Waldo Emerson
What would you say to the person you were five years ago? What will you say to the person you’ll be in five years?
(Author: Corbett Barr)
At the end of my senior year of high school, one of my teachers gave us the most intriguing assignment of the year: Write a letter to yourself in five years. The twist: in five years she would mail these letters to us. I remember thinking how important that letter would be and how it might hold secrets and prophecies that would blow my five-years-older mind. In June of 2007 my Dad called me to say I'd gotten a letter at his house addressed to me in my own handwriting. I eagerly anticipated getting my hands on the envelope and the contents inside.
In the intervening years I'd forgotten what was in the letter. As I read through the two pages of neat handwriting (where did that come from?) I smiled warmly at five-years-younger me. My concerns were so much different then, my world so much smaller. Most of my letter consisted of questions: Are you still at Camp? Did you major in Psychology after all? It's no surprise that I wrote of uncertainty at a time when so much was up in the air: Would friends disappear as we went off to college? Would my serious relationship last through the summer and into the new year at two different schools? Looking back these questions were born of graduation and of something bigger: September 11th was 8 months old at that point. There were so many questions then and so few answers. Teachers and my parents kept saying we would never forget that day just as they never forgot JFK's assassination or the Challenger explosion. I remember thinking they were probably right then but now, almost ten years later, I see how right they were.
So, to five-years-younger me, here is what I have to say:
1) Be REALLY good to that girl you're dating. Don't ask me why.
2) Cherish the next few years at Camp. Again, don't ask why.
3) Make a few extra trips to the mountains to see your grandmother.
4) Keep up the good work. You're doing really well.
To five-years-older me:
1) How's the little one?
2) When's the next writing project going to be finished?
3) How was the trip to Oregon?
4) Keep up the good work. You're doing really well.
Ryan
There will be an agreement in whatever variety of actions, so they be each honest and natural in their hour. – Ralph Waldo Emerson
What would you say to the person you were five years ago? What will you say to the person you’ll be in five years?
(Author: Corbett Barr)
At the end of my senior year of high school, one of my teachers gave us the most intriguing assignment of the year: Write a letter to yourself in five years. The twist: in five years she would mail these letters to us. I remember thinking how important that letter would be and how it might hold secrets and prophecies that would blow my five-years-older mind. In June of 2007 my Dad called me to say I'd gotten a letter at his house addressed to me in my own handwriting. I eagerly anticipated getting my hands on the envelope and the contents inside.
In the intervening years I'd forgotten what was in the letter. As I read through the two pages of neat handwriting (where did that come from?) I smiled warmly at five-years-younger me. My concerns were so much different then, my world so much smaller. Most of my letter consisted of questions: Are you still at Camp? Did you major in Psychology after all? It's no surprise that I wrote of uncertainty at a time when so much was up in the air: Would friends disappear as we went off to college? Would my serious relationship last through the summer and into the new year at two different schools? Looking back these questions were born of graduation and of something bigger: September 11th was 8 months old at that point. There were so many questions then and so few answers. Teachers and my parents kept saying we would never forget that day just as they never forgot JFK's assassination or the Challenger explosion. I remember thinking they were probably right then but now, almost ten years later, I see how right they were.
So, to five-years-younger me, here is what I have to say:
1) Be REALLY good to that girl you're dating. Don't ask me why.
2) Cherish the next few years at Camp. Again, don't ask why.
3) Make a few extra trips to the mountains to see your grandmother.
4) Keep up the good work. You're doing really well.
To five-years-older me:
1) How's the little one?
2) When's the next writing project going to be finished?
3) How was the trip to Oregon?
4) Keep up the good work. You're doing really well.
Ryan
I Double-Dog-Dare You
Dare to be bold by Matt Cheuvront
Our arts, our occupations, our marriages, our religion, we have not chosen, but society has chosen for us. We are parlour soldiers. We shun the rugged battle of fate, where strength is born. – Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Next to Resistance, rational thought is the artist or entrepreneurs worst enemy. Bad things happen when we employ rational thought, because rational thought comes from the ego. Instead, we want to work from the Self, that is, from instinct and intuition, from the unconscious.
A child has no trouble believing the unbelievable, nor does the genius or the madman. Its only you and I, with our big brains and our tiny hearts, who doubt and overthink and hesitate.” - Steven Pressfield, Do the Work
The idea of “being realistic” holds all of us back. From starting a business or quitting a job to dating someone who may not be our type or moving to a new place – getting “real” often means putting your dreams on hold.
Today, let’s take a step away from rational thought and dare to be bold. What’s one thing you’ve always wanted to accomplish but have been afraid to pursue? Write it down. Also write down the obstacles in your way of reaching your goal. Finally, write down a tangible plan to overcome each obstacle.
The only thing left is to, you know, actually go make it happen. What are you waiting for?
(Author: Matt Cheuvront)
I tend to see what I want to see in prompts such as these. In most of my responses in this #Trust30 challenge I've been called to write and to call into question all the excuses I've made for myself: No time to write, No good ideas, I'm not qualified, People will laugh, I'll be rejected.
It's my firm belief that things come into my life when I need them most and it's no mistake that this challenge--a writing challenge--appeared when it did. Summer is a time for change and experiments. Time to make it happen.
I won't bore you with the rest as most of my posts hearken back to this same issue. Will you hold me accountable? The better question is, will I hold myself accountable?
Ryan
Our arts, our occupations, our marriages, our religion, we have not chosen, but society has chosen for us. We are parlour soldiers. We shun the rugged battle of fate, where strength is born. – Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Next to Resistance, rational thought is the artist or entrepreneurs worst enemy. Bad things happen when we employ rational thought, because rational thought comes from the ego. Instead, we want to work from the Self, that is, from instinct and intuition, from the unconscious.
A child has no trouble believing the unbelievable, nor does the genius or the madman. Its only you and I, with our big brains and our tiny hearts, who doubt and overthink and hesitate.” - Steven Pressfield, Do the Work
The idea of “being realistic” holds all of us back. From starting a business or quitting a job to dating someone who may not be our type or moving to a new place – getting “real” often means putting your dreams on hold.
Today, let’s take a step away from rational thought and dare to be bold. What’s one thing you’ve always wanted to accomplish but have been afraid to pursue? Write it down. Also write down the obstacles in your way of reaching your goal. Finally, write down a tangible plan to overcome each obstacle.
The only thing left is to, you know, actually go make it happen. What are you waiting for?
(Author: Matt Cheuvront)
I tend to see what I want to see in prompts such as these. In most of my responses in this #Trust30 challenge I've been called to write and to call into question all the excuses I've made for myself: No time to write, No good ideas, I'm not qualified, People will laugh, I'll be rejected.
It's my firm belief that things come into my life when I need them most and it's no mistake that this challenge--a writing challenge--appeared when it did. Summer is a time for change and experiments. Time to make it happen.
I won't bore you with the rest as most of my posts hearken back to this same issue. Will you hold me accountable? The better question is, will I hold myself accountable?
Ryan
Another Kick in the Tail
Come Alive by Jonathan Mead
Life wastes itself while we are preparing to live. – Ralph Waldo EmersonIf you had one week left to live, would you still be doing what you’re doing now? In what areas of your life are you preparing to live? Take them off your To Do list and add them to a To Stop list. Resolve to only do what makes you come alive.
Bonus: How can your goals improve the present and not keep you in a perpetual “always something better” spiral?
(Author: Jonathan Mead)
Every three months or so I ask myself a version of this question. The problem with the "One Week Left to Live" scenario lies in the fact that unless I'm living every day as if it were truly my last, I will always have something to change and something I'm not doing. If I found out today my life would end next Wednesday, I would leave work and drive home listening to bluegrass music--Old Crow Medicine Show for starters. At home I would call my wife, my family and my friends to give them the news. I'd probably have a lot of explaining to do and a lot of questions to answer and probably a lot of convincing to do. I would call people at work and let them know I would be stopping by tomorrow to finish everything that needs finishing and to say my goodbyes. The rest of the week would be spent in the mountains and at the beach. I can't write or think about anything else because my imagination's a little too strong and the thought of truly saying goodbye is too much.
So the question is a little silly to me. What Mr. Mead wants me to do is to create a list of things I will do because there's no point in NOT doing them anymore. The purpose of this exercise is to spur creativity and free me from the roadblocks I've imposed upon myself. In that light there are many things I would do differently but these are the top five:
1) Write the story that's been bouncing around in my head for years. If it takes 10,000 words or 1,000,000 it needs to see the light of day.
2) Work on the Habitat for Humanity house our church is working on. How many more times will I say "next weekend" until the house is finished and I've done nothing to help?
3) Take dance lessons with my wife. This is WAY overdue.
4) Learn how to play the banjo and form a band to play with. Nothing fancy, no recordings, only for the love of creating and playing music.
5) Go to Oregon to visit my brother.
So, if I change this from a "To-Do" list to a "Stop-Doing" list, this is what it would look like:
1) Stop making excuses for why I can't write. I have the time. I have the talent. Get to work.
2) Stop putting it off. I'm not doing anything this Saturday. Looks like a good day to have a hammer in my hand.
3) Stop making excuses. There's more than enough money and time for this and much more.
4) Stop limiting yourself and stop forgetting the amazing musicians that surround me.
5) Stop saying "I want to..." and start saying "I will..." See #3 and start putting money away.
This blog grew out of a desire to start living the life I want and running came from that same urge. I've left both of them behind and I can feel the pull. Time to get back on the road and see where it takes me.
Ryan
Life wastes itself while we are preparing to live. – Ralph Waldo EmersonIf you had one week left to live, would you still be doing what you’re doing now? In what areas of your life are you preparing to live? Take them off your To Do list and add them to a To Stop list. Resolve to only do what makes you come alive.
Bonus: How can your goals improve the present and not keep you in a perpetual “always something better” spiral?
(Author: Jonathan Mead)
Every three months or so I ask myself a version of this question. The problem with the "One Week Left to Live" scenario lies in the fact that unless I'm living every day as if it were truly my last, I will always have something to change and something I'm not doing. If I found out today my life would end next Wednesday, I would leave work and drive home listening to bluegrass music--Old Crow Medicine Show for starters. At home I would call my wife, my family and my friends to give them the news. I'd probably have a lot of explaining to do and a lot of questions to answer and probably a lot of convincing to do. I would call people at work and let them know I would be stopping by tomorrow to finish everything that needs finishing and to say my goodbyes. The rest of the week would be spent in the mountains and at the beach. I can't write or think about anything else because my imagination's a little too strong and the thought of truly saying goodbye is too much.
So the question is a little silly to me. What Mr. Mead wants me to do is to create a list of things I will do because there's no point in NOT doing them anymore. The purpose of this exercise is to spur creativity and free me from the roadblocks I've imposed upon myself. In that light there are many things I would do differently but these are the top five:
1) Write the story that's been bouncing around in my head for years. If it takes 10,000 words or 1,000,000 it needs to see the light of day.
2) Work on the Habitat for Humanity house our church is working on. How many more times will I say "next weekend" until the house is finished and I've done nothing to help?
3) Take dance lessons with my wife. This is WAY overdue.
4) Learn how to play the banjo and form a band to play with. Nothing fancy, no recordings, only for the love of creating and playing music.
5) Go to Oregon to visit my brother.
So, if I change this from a "To-Do" list to a "Stop-Doing" list, this is what it would look like:
1) Stop making excuses for why I can't write. I have the time. I have the talent. Get to work.
2) Stop putting it off. I'm not doing anything this Saturday. Looks like a good day to have a hammer in my hand.
3) Stop making excuses. There's more than enough money and time for this and much more.
4) Stop limiting yourself and stop forgetting the amazing musicians that surround me.
5) Stop saying "I want to..." and start saying "I will..." See #3 and start putting money away.
This blog grew out of a desire to start living the life I want and running came from that same urge. I've left both of them behind and I can feel the pull. Time to get back on the road and see where it takes me.
Ryan
Saturday, June 4, 2011
One Item on the Bucket List
Today's #Trust30 prompt:
Travel by Chris GuillebeauIf we live truly, we shall see truly. - Ralph Waldo Emerson
Not everyone wants to travel the world, but most people can identify at least one place in the world they’d like to visit before they die. Where is that place for you, and what will you do to make sure you get there?
(Author: Chris Guillebeau)
For me the place to go has been and continues to be Australia. As a kid I had counselors at summer camp (Camp Kanata) that came every year to work and play in the US before heading back to the Land Down-Under. Their accents, attitudes and stories of life in a country where summer was winter and spring was fall captivated me like nothing had before. Add to that the incredible animals--koalas, kangaroos, dingoes, etc.--and I was hooked. The Disney movie "The Rescuers Down Under" probably contributed to this dream as well.
In high school I planned to go to college and study abroad in Australia for a semester or a year. I would have friends to visit and places to stay and it would be the trip of a lifetime. As I got closer and closer to the time for applications and decisions the choice wasn't so easy. Because of the seasonal differences in the southern hemisphere, Australian school semesters ended in July, right in the middle of summer in the US which conflicted with another dream of mine: to work at Camp Kanata as a summer camp counselor. I was always painfully aware of the tie between my two dreams and eventually made the decision to study abroad somewhere else so I could realize a dream that had just a bit more pull. (As fate would have it, I met my wife studying abroad in London so it all worked out in the end.)
So, all these years later, I'm still pining after Australia and hoping that one day I'll make the ridiculously long plane trip and reunite with friends and mentors from my summer camp days. Hope turns to reality through planning and saving. I know the trip will be expensive and I know that my wife and I are committed to living a debt-free life so it's going to take some careful preparation and some discipline to get us there. Funny enough, the author of this prompt--Chris Guillebeau--writes a blog (link above in the prompt) that I've been reading for a few months now. There's methods and means to travelling on the cheap but there are some compromises I've got to make before then--ie getting a credit card just for frequent-flyer miles.
So Australia, I've got you in my sights and I'll be there sooner rather than later so keep the Outback warm for me. Oh and world population? Hey, it's Ryan. Can you make sure we don't destroy the Great Barrier Reef before I get there? That would be great thanks.
Cheers
Ryan
Travel by Chris GuillebeauIf we live truly, we shall see truly. - Ralph Waldo Emerson
Not everyone wants to travel the world, but most people can identify at least one place in the world they’d like to visit before they die. Where is that place for you, and what will you do to make sure you get there?
(Author: Chris Guillebeau)
In high school I planned to go to college and study abroad in Australia for a semester or a year. I would have friends to visit and places to stay and it would be the trip of a lifetime. As I got closer and closer to the time for applications and decisions the choice wasn't so easy. Because of the seasonal differences in the southern hemisphere, Australian school semesters ended in July, right in the middle of summer in the US which conflicted with another dream of mine: to work at Camp Kanata as a summer camp counselor. I was always painfully aware of the tie between my two dreams and eventually made the decision to study abroad somewhere else so I could realize a dream that had just a bit more pull. (As fate would have it, I met my wife studying abroad in London so it all worked out in the end.)
So, all these years later, I'm still pining after Australia and hoping that one day I'll make the ridiculously long plane trip and reunite with friends and mentors from my summer camp days. Hope turns to reality through planning and saving. I know the trip will be expensive and I know that my wife and I are committed to living a debt-free life so it's going to take some careful preparation and some discipline to get us there. Funny enough, the author of this prompt--Chris Guillebeau--writes a blog (link above in the prompt) that I've been reading for a few months now. There's methods and means to travelling on the cheap but there are some compromises I've got to make before then--ie getting a credit card just for frequent-flyer miles.
So Australia, I've got you in my sights and I'll be there sooner rather than later so keep the Outback warm for me. Oh and world population? Hey, it's Ryan. Can you make sure we don't destroy the Great Barrier Reef before I get there? That would be great thanks.
Cheers
Ryan
Friday, June 3, 2011
From Challenge to Question
June 3rd #Trust30 prompt:
Post-it Question by Jenny BlakeThat which each can do best, none but his Maker can teach him. Where is the master who could have taught Shakespeare? Where is the master who could have instructed Franklin, or Washington, or Bacon, or Newton? . . . Shakespeare will never be made by the study of Shakespeare. Do that which is assigned you, and you cannot hope too much or dare too much. – Ralph Waldo Emerson
Identify one of your biggest challenges at the moment (ie I don’t feel passionate about my work) and turn it into a question (ie How can I do work I’m passionate about?) Write it on a post-it and put it up on your bathroom mirror or the back of your front door. After 48-hours, journal what answers came up for you and be sure to evaluate them.
Bonus: tweet or blog a photo of your post-it.
After a retreat with the young adult group from our church a few weekends ago I came to the realization that fear holds me back from doing more with the time given to me. I often sleep in when I could be up reading, praying, thinking, running or playing the guitar. On the surface I feel tired and sleepy. Underneath I'm really afraid of what the day will bring and afraid to leave the warmth and relative safety of my bed.
So I've been thinking a lot about how I can use my time more purposefully which leads me to this post-it, now above my computer and soon to be on my bathroom mirror:
What's your biggest challenge right now? What can you do about it?
Ryan
Post-it Question by Jenny BlakeThat which each can do best, none but his Maker can teach him. Where is the master who could have taught Shakespeare? Where is the master who could have instructed Franklin, or Washington, or Bacon, or Newton? . . . Shakespeare will never be made by the study of Shakespeare. Do that which is assigned you, and you cannot hope too much or dare too much. – Ralph Waldo Emerson
Identify one of your biggest challenges at the moment (ie I don’t feel passionate about my work) and turn it into a question (ie How can I do work I’m passionate about?) Write it on a post-it and put it up on your bathroom mirror or the back of your front door. After 48-hours, journal what answers came up for you and be sure to evaluate them.
Bonus: tweet or blog a photo of your post-it.
After a retreat with the young adult group from our church a few weekends ago I came to the realization that fear holds me back from doing more with the time given to me. I often sleep in when I could be up reading, praying, thinking, running or playing the guitar. On the surface I feel tired and sleepy. Underneath I'm really afraid of what the day will bring and afraid to leave the warmth and relative safety of my bed.
So I've been thinking a lot about how I can use my time more purposefully which leads me to this post-it, now above my computer and soon to be on my bathroom mirror:
Ryan
Living Beliefs
June 2nd #Trust30 prompt:
One Strong Belief by Buster Benson
It is easy in the world to live after the world’s opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude. - Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance
The world is powered by passionate people, powerful ideas, and fearless action. What’s one strong belief you possess that isn’t shared by your closest friends or family? What inspires this belief, and what have you done to actively live it?
(Author: Buster Benson)
I'm finding it hard to think of a belief not shared by my closest friends and family as I think, almost by definition, we need to share a common understanding or our relationships would fade. Differences exist from person to person and there are friends I've known for more than a decade and we've invariably changed over time and our personal beliefs developed independently of one another in varying degrees.
In an effort to focus my thoughts and answer the prompt--rather than BSing my way through it like an essay from school--I'll go with my religious/spiritual beliefs. I consider myself a Christian but that tells you nothing about the structure of my beliefs and the opinions I hold. If I had all day to write I might begin to explain them all but I do not have the luxury of time and so you'll have to go without.
Katie and I began attending the young adult Bible study at our church with regularity in the past two months and over that time we've been reading two(1,2) challenging books that both address some of the struggles I've had over the years in reconciling my personal faith and understanding with that of the church, wherever that may be and whatever denomination I happened to be involved in. I like Brian McLaren's book the best right now and I'd read A Generous Orthodoxy a few years ago so I might be biased.
So, in answer to the prompt, my spiritual beliefs are personal and therefore not shared (completely) by my closest friends and family. I'm inspired by those Christians who are wiser (though not always older) than I am and who've seen and experienced more. I'm inspired by their example and the way they live out their faith in the world. I feel that my work is the largest way I live out my beliefs though I am always searching for more authentic ways to live out the life I've been called to lead.
With the lid off the box and the can of worms formally opened, we'll save some of this for another day.
Happy Friday.
Ryan
One Strong Belief by Buster Benson
It is easy in the world to live after the world’s opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude. - Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance
The world is powered by passionate people, powerful ideas, and fearless action. What’s one strong belief you possess that isn’t shared by your closest friends or family? What inspires this belief, and what have you done to actively live it?
(Author: Buster Benson)
I'm finding it hard to think of a belief not shared by my closest friends and family as I think, almost by definition, we need to share a common understanding or our relationships would fade. Differences exist from person to person and there are friends I've known for more than a decade and we've invariably changed over time and our personal beliefs developed independently of one another in varying degrees.
Katie and I began attending the young adult Bible study at our church with regularity in the past two months and over that time we've been reading two(1,2) challenging books that both address some of the struggles I've had over the years in reconciling my personal faith and understanding with that of the church, wherever that may be and whatever denomination I happened to be involved in. I like Brian McLaren's book the best right now and I'd read A Generous Orthodoxy a few years ago so I might be biased.
So, in answer to the prompt, my spiritual beliefs are personal and therefore not shared (completely) by my closest friends and family. I'm inspired by those Christians who are wiser (though not always older) than I am and who've seen and experienced more. I'm inspired by their example and the way they live out their faith in the world. I feel that my work is the largest way I live out my beliefs though I am always searching for more authentic ways to live out the life I've been called to lead.
With the lid off the box and the can of worms formally opened, we'll save some of this for another day.
Happy Friday.
Ryan
Wednesday, June 1st in One Sentence
June 1st #Trust30 prompt:
Liz Danzico – Today
Your genuine action will explain itself, and will explain your other genuine actions. Your conformity explains nothing. The force of character is cumulative. – Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance
If ‘the voyage of the best ship is a zigzag line of a hundred tracks,’ then it is more genuine to be present today than to recount yesterdays. How would you describe today using only one sentence? Tell today’s sentence to one other person. Repeat each day.
(Author: Liz Danzico)
::I saw the next few years of my work spread out before me, loved what I saw & now it's time to get going.::
I spent the first two days of June in a learning session with leaders of our YMCA talking about the work we do and how we will continue to grow as a dynamic organization. One of the most valuable and exciting things we covered was our associations long-range plan for the next ten years. I'm so thankful to be a part of an organization that listens to leaders in the community and builds a plan of action based upon what they want rather than what we think is needed.
Thursday's prompt is coming, followed shortly by Friday's.
Ryan
Liz Danzico – Today
Your genuine action will explain itself, and will explain your other genuine actions. Your conformity explains nothing. The force of character is cumulative. – Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance
If ‘the voyage of the best ship is a zigzag line of a hundred tracks,’ then it is more genuine to be present today than to recount yesterdays. How would you describe today using only one sentence? Tell today’s sentence to one other person. Repeat each day.
(Author: Liz Danzico)
::I saw the next few years of my work spread out before me, loved what I saw & now it's time to get going.::
I spent the first two days of June in a learning session with leaders of our YMCA talking about the work we do and how we will continue to grow as a dynamic organization. One of the most valuable and exciting things we covered was our associations long-range plan for the next ten years. I'm so thankful to be a part of an organization that listens to leaders in the community and builds a plan of action based upon what they want rather than what we think is needed.
Thursday's prompt is coming, followed shortly by Friday's.
Ryan
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
#Trust30
So running's been on the back-burner lately. A mix of laziness and insane scheduling kept me from the roads and trails for the last month or so. In an effort to re-establish some discipline, I'm going to be taking part in the #Trust30 Challenge from The Domino Project. Over the next 30 days I'll be responding to prompts posted each day.
Today's prompt:
We are afraid of truth, afraid of fortune, afraid of death, and afraid of each other. Our age yields no great and perfect persons. – Ralph Waldo Emerson
You just discovered you have fifteen minutes to live.
1. Set a timer for fifteen minutes.
2. Write the story that has to be written.
(Author: Gwen Bell)
A young boy stands on the edge of the sand right where the water begins to lap away at the shells and rocks and driftwood pieces washed ashore. He's come here or years with his family and he doesn't know what he'll do if they ever decide to get rid of their place at the beach. A few yards down the shore his parents and younger brother lounge on blankets and play in the sand. But our hero has weightier thoughts to think and he needs the distance, the space between him and the others.
For most every twelve-year-old boy the trouble comes when a girl doesn't know he exists. For our young man the issue is quite different: she knows him well and yet there is no changing the cosmic order of the world. She will always be a friend and he will always be a friend and that is how it will be until the end of time or middle school, whichever happens first.
He picks up a shell and tosses it towered the water. His feet sink into the sand as the waves lap over his feet and recede into the ground and back out to sea. His heart aches and he wonders how anyone could ever begin to understand the pain and the anguish in his too-small heart. Tears well up but he wipes them away quick as they come. The breeze blows past his ears and the waves crash and rumble in the shallows.
The breeze carries his mother's voice to him and he turns his face to her. It's time to head in and he jogs back to the blankets and his family. With each step the pain subsides and he's smiling when he reaches them. As they walk to the dunes he takes his mother's hand, not noticing the absence of a wedding ring or the growing space between the two people he loves the most.
(Not as uplifting as I'd thought but there it is!)
Ryan
Today's prompt:
We are afraid of truth, afraid of fortune, afraid of death, and afraid of each other. Our age yields no great and perfect persons. – Ralph Waldo Emerson
You just discovered you have fifteen minutes to live.
1. Set a timer for fifteen minutes.
2. Write the story that has to be written.
(Author: Gwen Bell)
A young boy stands on the edge of the sand right where the water begins to lap away at the shells and rocks and driftwood pieces washed ashore. He's come here or years with his family and he doesn't know what he'll do if they ever decide to get rid of their place at the beach. A few yards down the shore his parents and younger brother lounge on blankets and play in the sand. But our hero has weightier thoughts to think and he needs the distance, the space between him and the others.
For most every twelve-year-old boy the trouble comes when a girl doesn't know he exists. For our young man the issue is quite different: she knows him well and yet there is no changing the cosmic order of the world. She will always be a friend and he will always be a friend and that is how it will be until the end of time or middle school, whichever happens first.
He picks up a shell and tosses it towered the water. His feet sink into the sand as the waves lap over his feet and recede into the ground and back out to sea. His heart aches and he wonders how anyone could ever begin to understand the pain and the anguish in his too-small heart. Tears well up but he wipes them away quick as they come. The breeze blows past his ears and the waves crash and rumble in the shallows.
The breeze carries his mother's voice to him and he turns his face to her. It's time to head in and he jogs back to the blankets and his family. With each step the pain subsides and he's smiling when he reaches them. As they walk to the dunes he takes his mother's hand, not noticing the absence of a wedding ring or the growing space between the two people he loves the most.
(Not as uplifting as I'd thought but there it is!)
Ryan
Friday, April 15, 2011
Raleigh Rocks Half Marathon. Status: ROCKED
So it's early on a Friday and I realized I hadn't updated in a while and, more importantly, not since we completed our half marathon Sunday.
The course was a lot harder than it appeared at first glance. Driving the route the day before the hills seemed easy. Running them, however, was another story. It wasn't the grade so much as the length and placement that caused the trouble. From mile 8 to mile 11 it seemed that we were on a consistent uphill climb and by the end of the race I was in a lot of pain. Most of that can be attributed to my poor training leading up to the race but I think a lot of it had to do with the course itself. I finished with a respectable time of 2 hours 3 minutes.
Katie did very well though I think she's decided this was her first and last half marathon. We ran the first mile together around the RBC center along with some friends of ours. Around the 1.5 mile marker we spread out a bit. After I finished I ran back a bit to catch up to Katie and ran the last .25 or so with her. She said she started crying around mile 12--a mixture of pain, relief, excitement and missing her grandmother-- and she started crying harder when she saw me. I let her finish on her own and gave her a big hug after she crossed the finish line. She finished with an amazing time of 2 hours 35 minutes.
This picture sums up the feeling after we all finished. If Katie looks a little funny it's because she just realized how wet the grass was and that it probably wasn't the best spot to lay out.
The course was a lot harder than it appeared at first glance. Driving the route the day before the hills seemed easy. Running them, however, was another story. It wasn't the grade so much as the length and placement that caused the trouble. From mile 8 to mile 11 it seemed that we were on a consistent uphill climb and by the end of the race I was in a lot of pain. Most of that can be attributed to my poor training leading up to the race but I think a lot of it had to do with the course itself. I finished with a respectable time of 2 hours 3 minutes.
This picture sums up the feeling after we all finished. If Katie looks a little funny it's because she just realized how wet the grass was and that it probably wasn't the best spot to lay out.
While I physically felt better after the City of Oaks back in November, I felt mentally and emotionally different after this race. Being with friends and running with my wonderful, beautiful wife made it that way. I look forward to running 5Ks and 10Ks with Katie as she's decided that's where she'd like to spend her efforts. I could not be more proud of her and all that she accomplished. Thanks to those of you who supported our efforts through thoughts, prayers or donations to the American Cancer Society. We couldn't have done it without you!
Ryan
Monday, March 28, 2011
Fine, Be That Way
Thirteen days to the half marathon. Training continues though we've taken a week to work through some nagging pains. Time to get back to work.
My wife and close friends will be the first to tell you that, since the first day of owning our house, I've been a crotchety old man in his late 20's. Within the first few hours, even as our volunteer moving crew of said friends were trudging furniture and boxes through the near-freezing rain, I was complaining about people driving fast on our street. When spring came in that first year and the kids next door and all around started tromping through our yard with Nerf guns, I worried about the plants coming up through the soil and asked the boys not to climb in our tree as visions of lawyers and insurance documents flashed through my head. I guess a switch flipped the day I got that key in my hand. If I could find it again, I'd turn it off.
Two days ago I was washing dishes and watched as two boys stalked each other in the trees at the back of our yard. From my viewpoint I could see everything and wanted to scream "NO! He's got the drop on you. Come around the other way!" Before I could join in the fun they took a detour through our fledgling garden and I found myself opening the sliding glass door with a dish towel slung over my shoulder to ask them not to run through the garden.
Later on, as we drove to dinner and past the houses where the kids were safely tucked away eating dinner and watching TV, I thought about when I was their age. Did I tromp through people's gardens and climb trees I had no business climbing? The short answer is no, but not because I was a paragon of politeness and did everything my mom and my friends' moms told me to do. I climbed trees and crashed through bushes and gardens and fell into creeks and streams all the time. I just had the luxury of huge yards and unclaimed "common areas" to explore and damage without fear of wagging fingers and angry adults whose names I did not know. I was lucky to have the freedom and space to create my own understanding. The kids in my neighborhood now can't help but cross into other yards. A Nerf battle, after all, must run its course without overly constricting boundaries. To suggest otherwise would be to suggest that a tornado must abide by the local zoning ordinances.
When it comes to our street, I admit I am a bit crotchety. I worry about the kids next door who play outside each afternoon. Though they are incredibly careful and well-conditioned not to venture past the sidewalk, I know it only takes a moment for something horrible to happen. The last thing I want to hear is the sound of tires squealing and bicycles--and worse--being crushed under tires.
My feelings towards the kids running through our yard are more complicated. While I love the flowers and the bushes that will bloom in the coming weeks and months I think I'm more jealous than anything else. I want nothing more than to don a bandoleer of Nerf darts, hold the plastic stock in my hand and crouch down in the bushes waiting for my prey. If I can't join them, they can't play in my yard. If you aren't going to play by my rules, I'm taking my ball and I'm going home. So there.
Ryan
My wife and close friends will be the first to tell you that, since the first day of owning our house, I've been a crotchety old man in his late 20's. Within the first few hours, even as our volunteer moving crew of said friends were trudging furniture and boxes through the near-freezing rain, I was complaining about people driving fast on our street. When spring came in that first year and the kids next door and all around started tromping through our yard with Nerf guns, I worried about the plants coming up through the soil and asked the boys not to climb in our tree as visions of lawyers and insurance documents flashed through my head. I guess a switch flipped the day I got that key in my hand. If I could find it again, I'd turn it off.
Two days ago I was washing dishes and watched as two boys stalked each other in the trees at the back of our yard. From my viewpoint I could see everything and wanted to scream "NO! He's got the drop on you. Come around the other way!" Before I could join in the fun they took a detour through our fledgling garden and I found myself opening the sliding glass door with a dish towel slung over my shoulder to ask them not to run through the garden.
Later on, as we drove to dinner and past the houses where the kids were safely tucked away eating dinner and watching TV, I thought about when I was their age. Did I tromp through people's gardens and climb trees I had no business climbing? The short answer is no, but not because I was a paragon of politeness and did everything my mom and my friends' moms told me to do. I climbed trees and crashed through bushes and gardens and fell into creeks and streams all the time. I just had the luxury of huge yards and unclaimed "common areas" to explore and damage without fear of wagging fingers and angry adults whose names I did not know. I was lucky to have the freedom and space to create my own understanding. The kids in my neighborhood now can't help but cross into other yards. A Nerf battle, after all, must run its course without overly constricting boundaries. To suggest otherwise would be to suggest that a tornado must abide by the local zoning ordinances.
When it comes to our street, I admit I am a bit crotchety. I worry about the kids next door who play outside each afternoon. Though they are incredibly careful and well-conditioned not to venture past the sidewalk, I know it only takes a moment for something horrible to happen. The last thing I want to hear is the sound of tires squealing and bicycles--and worse--being crushed under tires.
My feelings towards the kids running through our yard are more complicated. While I love the flowers and the bushes that will bloom in the coming weeks and months I think I'm more jealous than anything else. I want nothing more than to don a bandoleer of Nerf darts, hold the plastic stock in my hand and crouch down in the bushes waiting for my prey. If I can't join them, they can't play in my yard. If you aren't going to play by my rules, I'm taking my ball and I'm going home. So there.
Ryan
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Spring Has Sprung
18 days until the race. Training continues and the extra week we unintentionally built in will be welcome as life and minor pains get in the way. We rode the bike at the Y last night for a change of pace and to keep any pains at bay.
We walked to the Y last night and it felt so good to be outside without feeling a chill from the air or the wind blowing by. The warm air was filled with the smell of spring: flowers, grass, trees and my nose was the first to pipe up and say "Spring is here! Get out the Claritin!" So, as it goes, I will be sneezing and sniffling for a little while until my body adjusts to all the junk flying through the air. Odds are my beautiful and understanding wife will want to post something like "How is this a change from the rest of the year?" but she won't because she loves me and I beat her to the punch.
You see, I love the outdoors and would spend every waking minute outside if I could. I worked at a summer camp for 10 years and suffered through all kinds of allergic reactions from old, dusty mattresses and all manner of pollen falling from the sky. I don't mind the allergic reactions...most of the time. A little sneezing and sniffling and wiping my nose every minute or so is a small price to pay to be outside. As you can probably tell, I'd be better suited as a hermit or a solo hiker with all the bodily functions going on.
And this is the trouble: I've learned to cope and deal with hayfever that won't succumb to any over-the-counter or prescription medicine. I've learned to manage the sniffling and sneezing and eyes so red you'd think I'd been up to no good. But other people aren't accustomed to it and feel the need to worry and fuss over the freak show I become when there's something in the air my body won't abide. Katie knows better now and gives me a sympathetic frown, a hug and tells me to ask for something if I need it. Usually the only "cure" is a long nap and a few hot showers with plenty of fluids to replenish me. Nothing else seems to work.
On a staff retreat last year we went to Camp Seafarer for a few days. I was really looking forward to being in the camp setting with fresh air and the water nearby. I lasted about a day before my eyes swelled up and my nose turned into a faucet. My co-workers--wonderful people all-- had no idea what to do with me. I plugged along and did everything with them, sometimes from a comfortable distance, and managed the best I could. Medicine was offered and suggestions were given and I politely took what was given and informed them "This happens. I will be fine. It looks worse than it really is, promise."
The second night, I took a nap before the low country boil hoping to let it run it's course. I gained enough time to sit and eat my food before throwing in the towel and the used tissue and went to bed before the sun fully set. I woke up the next day feeling near-perfect and ready to go. I kept away from the freshly mown fields but otherwise enjoyed the rest of the trip.
It's that time of year for me and a lot of people. So, in the spirit of embracing all that life throws my way, I raise a hankerchief to you and yours at the outset of this beautiful and terrible season. May this spring bring you all that you desire and then some!
Ryan
We walked to the Y last night and it felt so good to be outside without feeling a chill from the air or the wind blowing by. The warm air was filled with the smell of spring: flowers, grass, trees and my nose was the first to pipe up and say "Spring is here! Get out the Claritin!" So, as it goes, I will be sneezing and sniffling for a little while until my body adjusts to all the junk flying through the air. Odds are my beautiful and understanding wife will want to post something like "How is this a change from the rest of the year?" but she won't because she loves me and I beat her to the punch.
You see, I love the outdoors and would spend every waking minute outside if I could. I worked at a summer camp for 10 years and suffered through all kinds of allergic reactions from old, dusty mattresses and all manner of pollen falling from the sky. I don't mind the allergic reactions...most of the time. A little sneezing and sniffling and wiping my nose every minute or so is a small price to pay to be outside. As you can probably tell, I'd be better suited as a hermit or a solo hiker with all the bodily functions going on.
And this is the trouble: I've learned to cope and deal with hayfever that won't succumb to any over-the-counter or prescription medicine. I've learned to manage the sniffling and sneezing and eyes so red you'd think I'd been up to no good. But other people aren't accustomed to it and feel the need to worry and fuss over the freak show I become when there's something in the air my body won't abide. Katie knows better now and gives me a sympathetic frown, a hug and tells me to ask for something if I need it. Usually the only "cure" is a long nap and a few hot showers with plenty of fluids to replenish me. Nothing else seems to work.
On a staff retreat last year we went to Camp Seafarer for a few days. I was really looking forward to being in the camp setting with fresh air and the water nearby. I lasted about a day before my eyes swelled up and my nose turned into a faucet. My co-workers--wonderful people all-- had no idea what to do with me. I plugged along and did everything with them, sometimes from a comfortable distance, and managed the best I could. Medicine was offered and suggestions were given and I politely took what was given and informed them "This happens. I will be fine. It looks worse than it really is, promise."
The second night, I took a nap before the low country boil hoping to let it run it's course. I gained enough time to sit and eat my food before throwing in the towel and the used tissue and went to bed before the sun fully set. I woke up the next day feeling near-perfect and ready to go. I kept away from the freshly mown fields but otherwise enjoyed the rest of the trip.
It's that time of year for me and a lot of people. So, in the spirit of embracing all that life throws my way, I raise a hankerchief to you and yours at the outset of this beautiful and terrible season. May this spring bring you all that you desire and then some!
Ryan
Friday, March 11, 2011
Gonna Be Some Changes Made
After a while all my running routes get a little boring. You can file this one under “first world problems.” I try to vary them and I’ve sought out the back roads and corners of subdivisions nearby. Google maps and good old-fashioned exploration keep new and different sights in front of me as the runs get longer. Katie and I are up to 9 miles this weekend and it’s getting tougher to find routes we have not run before. While I am comfortable to head out and explore, Katie would rather stay closer to home and I understand why. It can be mentally taxing to remember long routes with lots of turns and to cope with the distance we need to cover if we want and need to get home quickly. All mental energy better spent on pushing through the last two miles when the tank nears empty.
Running high mileage routes close to home means overlap and repeats. I pass people running in the opposite direction, sometimes at multiple points as our routes intersect. I run past yards in various stages of mowing, watering, weeding. I run past kids creating sidewalk murals with Day-Glo chalk and try not to ruin earlier works with my shoes. Since last fall when my commitment to running began in earnest, I’ve seen more gradual change as well. The seasons come and go and houses decorated for Halloween turn to Christmas, Valentine’s Day and now Saint Patrick’s Day. “For Sale” signs grow “Sold” stickers while some houses grow foreclosure notices overnight. With the weather warming up people gather outside and kids play in the yards breaking in tennis rackets, soccer balls and baseball gloves from winter storage. While all this change speaks of growth and the inevitable cycles we go through, there are other changes I see which remind me that running tends to induce warm and fuzzy reveries which rarely coincide with the reality around me.
On a recent run we crossed an intersection two or three times as we looped through the neighborhood. I saw the graffiti sprayed on the white blocks of the crosswalk and street signs on our first pass and seemed to see more and more instances each time we passed. The tags were amateurish: initials and crudely rendered line drawings of male genitalia, clearly the work of twelve to eighteen year-old boys. While I got into my fair share of mischief growing up, I never felt the urge to tag things with symbols and profanity. The potential repercussions were never worth the short-lived thrill promised by the hiss of the can and the resulting “work of art.” With each pass by the markings I got more and more upset. My wife had to look at this stuff. Kids crossed this street daily on their way to school and moms would face the awkward question “Mommy, what’s that?”
On our final pass by the intersection my thoughts turned from those who would have to look at the scrawled initials and crude drawings to those who created them and their parents. Somewhere a dad who works too hard to keep his family in the too-large house with the beautiful yard and the two new cars is missing cans of black spray paint he uses to paint over the rust on the fence that keeps his family’s Goldendoodle from interacting with the Portuguese Water Dog next door.
It will be weeks, maybe months before he notices it’s gone. Maybe he will go for a run to blow off steam from a long week at work and come across the markings made by his fourteen year-old son who seems to be drifting away more and more as the months pass by. Maybe he will laugh as he remembers the days when he was young, never thinking of his own son. Or maybe he will draw his eyebrows down and sigh wondering what kind of parent allows their children to run rampant through the neighborhood at night with cans of spray paint.
As I went farther and farther down that particular rabbit hole I realized I needed to quit or I would drive myself crazy. But not before I fantasized about staking out the scene of the crime just to see that some justice was done. As the scenes played out in my mind like a third-rate revenge film I realized this was not the path of a mentally healthy individual. It was also incredibly hypocritical of me. Though I never scrawled bad graffiti all over my neighborhood I was surely no angel. In fact, what struck me as I wrenched my thoughts back to the run was the internal change I made at some point in the last two years. Between changing jobs, getting married and buying a house, I altered the way I process the world. Graffiti is now a scourge upon my neighborhood and I am planning on how I would deal with the hoodlums if I ever caught them in the act. Where did I come from?
By the time I run by that intersection again I’m sure the markings will be gone. We all have to get that out of our system early on before it grows into something more sinister. I might have to look at a bad drawing of a penis for a few more weeks but at least my mailbox remains unmolested and the magnolia tree in the front yard is free of soggy, torn toilet paper. Fingers crossed.
Ryan
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Running in the Rain and Pushing Through
8 miles this past weekend with Katie. While we ate breakfast and I read the paper, we kept looking out the back door at the rain coming down. We couldn't afford to miss an 8 mile run a month before our race and the thought of pounding on a treadmill for a while seemed a terrible punishment. Thankfully the rain let up for a bit and we managed to get ourselves outside. The run went well and the rain held out for 7 miles. By that point we welcomed the cooling shower even if we did pick up the pace a bit. One month and a day to go before the race. No turning back now!
4 miles yesterday evening with Katie. She felt great and my foot was killing me for some reason. So proud of her for sticking with it and pushing through the tough spots. So happy to be able to share something with the one I love the most.
Ryan
4 miles yesterday evening with Katie. She felt great and my foot was killing me for some reason. So proud of her for sticking with it and pushing through the tough spots. So happy to be able to share something with the one I love the most.
Ryan
Friday, February 25, 2011
Closer Every Day
4.5 miles yesterday on the treadmill with Katie.
I opened the front door this morning at 4:30 to get the paper and smiled as the warm air hit my face. I am more ready for spring and summer than I think I've ever been. If the rain isn't too bad this afternoon we'll be outside for our run today. Though today is technically a rest day I think a short one is in order to celebrate the weather.
As the weather gets warmer our half marathon gets closer and closer. Thankfully we miscounted the weeks in our training program and we've got an extra week of preparation we didn't think we had. If life continues on its crazy path we'll need every extra day we can find.
We're slated for 6 or 7 miles on Sunday. For now, happy Friday and may spring arrive sooner than later.
Ryan
I opened the front door this morning at 4:30 to get the paper and smiled as the warm air hit my face. I am more ready for spring and summer than I think I've ever been. If the rain isn't too bad this afternoon we'll be outside for our run today. Though today is technically a rest day I think a short one is in order to celebrate the weather.
As the weather gets warmer our half marathon gets closer and closer. Thankfully we miscounted the weeks in our training program and we've got an extra week of preparation we didn't think we had. If life continues on its crazy path we'll need every extra day we can find.
We're slated for 6 or 7 miles on Sunday. For now, happy Friday and may spring arrive sooner than later.
Ryan
Friday, February 18, 2011
Thoughts on Gratitude: Part 2
Update on Krispy Kreme challenge: Finished in 45 minutes 30 something seconds. All 12 doughnuts down. None lost. 6 miles at Shelley Lake in the amazing weather this past weekend. Looking forward to the warm weather this weekend.
My apologies for the delay between posts.
TROSA
If you've lived in the Triangle area even for a short while you've probably heard of TROSA. No doubt a neighbor or friend recommended them as a moving company or as someone to take care of your lawn. I knew that they helped people recover from drugs and alcohol through their program but I knew little else before driving through the front gates and walking into their offices.
We sat in a huge conference room and watched a short film TROSA made a few years back to make its case to the public. The people in the video were honest about where they'd been and incredibly grateful for TROSA helping them to their present place. This was shaping up to be just like many of our other visits: video, spiel from the executive, questions and answers and then lunch. What we received was much different.
After hearing from Kevin McDonald, the president and CEO of TROSA, about the beginnings of the program we then heard from current program participants and graduates. This is where the day continued its track of challenging testimonials and eye-opening experiences.
I won't go into detail about the people we heard from over the course of the day. The details of each story--the drugs, the abuse, the pain, the recovery--were similar from one person to the next while still incredibly personal. What was truly revelatory was the fact that we heard from each person we met as we walked around the grounds and through the buildings. Every room interrupted their work to stand and introduce themselves; introductions which included their drug of choice, their road to recovery and their current role in the two year TROSA program. At the end of our time I think we heard from around 35 people. Suffice it to say that I was mentally and emotionally drained by the time I got back in my car to head to the Williams Square apartments to hear from Housing for New Hope.
It's hard for me to write any more about TROSA. I could never begin to tell the stories I heard with any semblance of the original emotion and strength. The honesty, candor and openness were incredibly refreshing even if the words were hard to hear at times. One member of our group talked about the emotional impact in a question towards the end of lunch. She was the only person to acknowledge the preponderance of quiet tears and wet eyes dabbed with tissues we all though no one would notice. As we prepared to leave I felt as though I was the damaged and broken person, afraid to cry in the presence of my peers, afraid to show any real emotion. As I headed to Williams Square I thought seriously about skipping the rest of the day and heading home. I wasn't worried about what we might see and hear from Housing for New Hope. I was terrified of what else I might see in myself.
Thankfully (or not, depending on your point of view) our visit to the Williams Square apartments ended our day on a for-the-most-part uplifting note. The efficiency apartments serve disabled persons who were previously homeless and now have permanent, supportive housing which allows them to move forward with momentum as they work to improve their circumstances. They pay rent. They have a door, and it locks. They have a home, many for the first time in years. Another story of success in the Bull City as selfless people work to provide services for those who need them most.
While the day was incredibly draining it was also incredibly uplifting. While it was difficult to hear the stories and to meet the people who are often ignored, it was equally as exciting to meet the people who choose to help, who choose to put everything on the line for others. In the weeks and months to come I hope to find where I fit in that puzzle, where I can give back. Running in 5Ks and half marathons don't count. I may not have a lot of money but I have two hands and two feet and a body capable of doing a hard days' work. Now I just have to figure out where to go first.
Ryan
My apologies for the delay between posts.
TROSA
If you've lived in the Triangle area even for a short while you've probably heard of TROSA. No doubt a neighbor or friend recommended them as a moving company or as someone to take care of your lawn. I knew that they helped people recover from drugs and alcohol through their program but I knew little else before driving through the front gates and walking into their offices.
We sat in a huge conference room and watched a short film TROSA made a few years back to make its case to the public. The people in the video were honest about where they'd been and incredibly grateful for TROSA helping them to their present place. This was shaping up to be just like many of our other visits: video, spiel from the executive, questions and answers and then lunch. What we received was much different.
After hearing from Kevin McDonald, the president and CEO of TROSA, about the beginnings of the program we then heard from current program participants and graduates. This is where the day continued its track of challenging testimonials and eye-opening experiences.
I won't go into detail about the people we heard from over the course of the day. The details of each story--the drugs, the abuse, the pain, the recovery--were similar from one person to the next while still incredibly personal. What was truly revelatory was the fact that we heard from each person we met as we walked around the grounds and through the buildings. Every room interrupted their work to stand and introduce themselves; introductions which included their drug of choice, their road to recovery and their current role in the two year TROSA program. At the end of our time I think we heard from around 35 people. Suffice it to say that I was mentally and emotionally drained by the time I got back in my car to head to the Williams Square apartments to hear from Housing for New Hope.
It's hard for me to write any more about TROSA. I could never begin to tell the stories I heard with any semblance of the original emotion and strength. The honesty, candor and openness were incredibly refreshing even if the words were hard to hear at times. One member of our group talked about the emotional impact in a question towards the end of lunch. She was the only person to acknowledge the preponderance of quiet tears and wet eyes dabbed with tissues we all though no one would notice. As we prepared to leave I felt as though I was the damaged and broken person, afraid to cry in the presence of my peers, afraid to show any real emotion. As I headed to Williams Square I thought seriously about skipping the rest of the day and heading home. I wasn't worried about what we might see and hear from Housing for New Hope. I was terrified of what else I might see in myself.
Thankfully (or not, depending on your point of view) our visit to the Williams Square apartments ended our day on a for-the-most-part uplifting note. The efficiency apartments serve disabled persons who were previously homeless and now have permanent, supportive housing which allows them to move forward with momentum as they work to improve their circumstances. They pay rent. They have a door, and it locks. They have a home, many for the first time in years. Another story of success in the Bull City as selfless people work to provide services for those who need them most.
While the day was incredibly draining it was also incredibly uplifting. While it was difficult to hear the stories and to meet the people who are often ignored, it was equally as exciting to meet the people who choose to help, who choose to put everything on the line for others. In the weeks and months to come I hope to find where I fit in that puzzle, where I can give back. Running in 5Ks and half marathons don't count. I may not have a lot of money but I have two hands and two feet and a body capable of doing a hard days' work. Now I just have to figure out where to go first.
Ryan
Friday, February 4, 2011
Thoughts on Gratitude: Part 1
Still running. Krispy Kreme challenge tomorrow morning. Thoughts are elsewhere today...
Discovering Durham
Back in October I started a leadership class with the Durham Chamber of Commerce and we've met once a month since then to learn about different facets of the city. We've taken bus tours and been all over the city to hear from people doing amazing work to promote, build and sustain our community. The days are long and I'm usually mentally exhausted by the end of each session though I'm always thankful for the exposure and the learning. I've learned more about Durham over 5 days than I would have in a lifetime.
Human Need
Yesterday's events, however, left me more emotionally and mentally drained than I've been in a long while. Each Leadership Durham day revolves around a central focus or theme and February's was Human Need. On paper the days events seemed similar to every other agenda we'd been given: Start at one place, head to another, end at yet another and each one highlights a piece of the process or puzzle we're looking at that day. In person and in motion, my day unpacking human need in Durham was one of the most difficult experiences I've had in quite some time.
From the beginning of the program we'd known February's session would start at Urban Ministries where we would either serve or eat with the people coming in for breakfast. We were told to observe a more casual dress code so as to better blend in with our fellow diners. On paper this seemed easy enough and, though I was admittedly a bit nervous, I trusted that the experience would be worthwhile. Well, I know now that there's a huge gap between worthwhile and majorly impactful. I wish I could say that I had an impact on the gentlemen sitting with me at table but they had a much greater effect on me than they even know.
Let's start with what we had for breakfast: 1 bowl grits or oatmeal, 3 pieces sausage, 1 slice wheat bread, 1 hard boiled egg, 1 or 2 (depending on size) pastry, coffee or water. I say we because that's what everyone coming through the line received. I have to admit I had a different idea of what we would be eating. I had in mind a hearty breakfast of eggs, toast, biscuits, bacon, sausage, juice, fruit and coffee. I thought we would have a choice. This was the first of a few gut checks throughout the day.
Then Tommy and Mike sat down. I should say that we were brought in early and were asked to sit around the room so that we could interact with... Well what do you call them? The homeless? The needy? Guests? Diners? I want to say "the others" but that makes me feel disconnected and aloof which is hardly what I felt eating with this group of people. Tommy and Mike didn't say much and Keith, my fellow Leadership Durham participant and I had trouble thinking of how to start the conversation. I introduced myself and they returned the courtesy. Keith explained that we were with a group visiting the shelter. This was the exchange:
Keith: "We're here with a group from the chamber of commerce."
Tommy: "I come here to eat."
Tommy wore a shirt with the words "Silence is Golden, Duct Tape is Silver." After this exchange I didn't feel like bothering the guy anymore. I felt woefully out of place and horribly fake. I wanted to ask Tommy about his tattoos, to ask Mike what he would be doing for the rest of the day but words wouldn't come and we sat in awkward silence until one of the staff members came and told us we were moving on to the next part of our day as my feeling of relief succumbed to a greater feeling of shame and embarrassment. We may have shared a table but we did not share a meal.
From there we moved to the food pantry. While I tried to gather my thoughts from the breakfast table we heard about the other work Urban Ministries does to feed and clothe those in need. As I looked around the shelves all I could think was "This is it?" But this was enough according to the staff. "There are days," he said, "when we have far less and days when we have much more." I swallowed hard imagining the days with less. Then we shifted to the clothing closet where those in need can come and "shop" while their food is packaged up. The room smelled like most thrift stores and Goodwill shops: thousands of clean, used clothes that fill the room with what I can only describe as the collective essence of past memories. Bordering on musty yet smelling of a thousand homes instantly recognizable and comforting yet unsettling and overwhelming.
A look at the shelter came next. The men in our group went with Virgil, a resident, and Peter a staff member, through the men's wing of the shelter. The TV was on in the day room and red tape on the walls marked areas of floor space for those who would manage to receive a number that night. Mats were stacked in the corner, out of the way for the day. We saw the six showers which 80 men will use tonight. We saw the bunk rooms and the beds were much narrower than I expected. Plastic-covered mats like those in the day room were here as well. These were a point of pride as a large corporation with a local officepaid for them and they should last a good long while. The bed frames, we heard, came from the jail after they renovated. The men were mainly outside smoking but a few sat on their beds, enjoying the warmth and a chance to sit. One gentleman was sitting on his bed with a laptop and a Blackberry. Somehow the strangeness of that escaped me until someone in the group asked if I'd seen it. I'm not sure why I didn't see the incongruity. I'd like to think for a moment I saw him with complete compassion but in all honesty I think I just missed it.
When we left Urban Ministries I felt a bit better, not because I'd done anything but because I saw that things were being done. Virgil is a week away from receiving permanent housing through Housing for New Hope and he's been promoted at his job. He's doing really well and he's done it with support from Urban Ministries and a ton of volunteers who bothered to care and show up. I pulled out of the parking lot with a new perspective on the things I worry about and how they shape my day. Next time I find myself starting to gripe I'm going to ask myself: Is this really worth the energy?
Next up: Part 2: TROSA
Ryan
Discovering Durham
Back in October I started a leadership class with the Durham Chamber of Commerce and we've met once a month since then to learn about different facets of the city. We've taken bus tours and been all over the city to hear from people doing amazing work to promote, build and sustain our community. The days are long and I'm usually mentally exhausted by the end of each session though I'm always thankful for the exposure and the learning. I've learned more about Durham over 5 days than I would have in a lifetime.
Human Need
Yesterday's events, however, left me more emotionally and mentally drained than I've been in a long while. Each Leadership Durham day revolves around a central focus or theme and February's was Human Need. On paper the days events seemed similar to every other agenda we'd been given: Start at one place, head to another, end at yet another and each one highlights a piece of the process or puzzle we're looking at that day. In person and in motion, my day unpacking human need in Durham was one of the most difficult experiences I've had in quite some time.
From the beginning of the program we'd known February's session would start at Urban Ministries where we would either serve or eat with the people coming in for breakfast. We were told to observe a more casual dress code so as to better blend in with our fellow diners. On paper this seemed easy enough and, though I was admittedly a bit nervous, I trusted that the experience would be worthwhile. Well, I know now that there's a huge gap between worthwhile and majorly impactful. I wish I could say that I had an impact on the gentlemen sitting with me at table but they had a much greater effect on me than they even know.
Let's start with what we had for breakfast: 1 bowl grits or oatmeal, 3 pieces sausage, 1 slice wheat bread, 1 hard boiled egg, 1 or 2 (depending on size) pastry, coffee or water. I say we because that's what everyone coming through the line received. I have to admit I had a different idea of what we would be eating. I had in mind a hearty breakfast of eggs, toast, biscuits, bacon, sausage, juice, fruit and coffee. I thought we would have a choice. This was the first of a few gut checks throughout the day.
Then Tommy and Mike sat down. I should say that we were brought in early and were asked to sit around the room so that we could interact with... Well what do you call them? The homeless? The needy? Guests? Diners? I want to say "the others" but that makes me feel disconnected and aloof which is hardly what I felt eating with this group of people. Tommy and Mike didn't say much and Keith, my fellow Leadership Durham participant and I had trouble thinking of how to start the conversation. I introduced myself and they returned the courtesy. Keith explained that we were with a group visiting the shelter. This was the exchange:
Keith: "We're here with a group from the chamber of commerce."
Tommy: "I come here to eat."
Tommy wore a shirt with the words "Silence is Golden, Duct Tape is Silver." After this exchange I didn't feel like bothering the guy anymore. I felt woefully out of place and horribly fake. I wanted to ask Tommy about his tattoos, to ask Mike what he would be doing for the rest of the day but words wouldn't come and we sat in awkward silence until one of the staff members came and told us we were moving on to the next part of our day as my feeling of relief succumbed to a greater feeling of shame and embarrassment. We may have shared a table but we did not share a meal.
From there we moved to the food pantry. While I tried to gather my thoughts from the breakfast table we heard about the other work Urban Ministries does to feed and clothe those in need. As I looked around the shelves all I could think was "This is it?" But this was enough according to the staff. "There are days," he said, "when we have far less and days when we have much more." I swallowed hard imagining the days with less. Then we shifted to the clothing closet where those in need can come and "shop" while their food is packaged up. The room smelled like most thrift stores and Goodwill shops: thousands of clean, used clothes that fill the room with what I can only describe as the collective essence of past memories. Bordering on musty yet smelling of a thousand homes instantly recognizable and comforting yet unsettling and overwhelming.
A look at the shelter came next. The men in our group went with Virgil, a resident, and Peter a staff member, through the men's wing of the shelter. The TV was on in the day room and red tape on the walls marked areas of floor space for those who would manage to receive a number that night. Mats were stacked in the corner, out of the way for the day. We saw the six showers which 80 men will use tonight. We saw the bunk rooms and the beds were much narrower than I expected. Plastic-covered mats like those in the day room were here as well. These were a point of pride as a large corporation with a local officepaid for them and they should last a good long while. The bed frames, we heard, came from the jail after they renovated. The men were mainly outside smoking but a few sat on their beds, enjoying the warmth and a chance to sit. One gentleman was sitting on his bed with a laptop and a Blackberry. Somehow the strangeness of that escaped me until someone in the group asked if I'd seen it. I'm not sure why I didn't see the incongruity. I'd like to think for a moment I saw him with complete compassion but in all honesty I think I just missed it.
When we left Urban Ministries I felt a bit better, not because I'd done anything but because I saw that things were being done. Virgil is a week away from receiving permanent housing through Housing for New Hope and he's been promoted at his job. He's doing really well and he's done it with support from Urban Ministries and a ton of volunteers who bothered to care and show up. I pulled out of the parking lot with a new perspective on the things I worry about and how they shape my day. Next time I find myself starting to gripe I'm going to ask myself: Is this really worth the energy?
Next up: Part 2: TROSA
Ryan
Creativity
A week ago:
Strength for 1 hour. 3.5 miles at the Y in the evening.Continuing to struggle with the cold
When I'm not working or running I enjoy reading and lately books--which I prefer--have taken a back seat to blogs and magazines. Shorter pieces are easy to fit in while I eat my lunch or during the moments of quiet before and after dinner. My blog roll stays fairly consistent with changes now and then. Sometimes I lose interest or the sheer volume of stuff gets to be too much and it's time to unsubsribe.
Two of the most worthwhile blogs I've found in the last year or so since come from Donald Miller and Blaine Hogan. I read Miller's "Blue Like Jazz" in college and loved every word. It's one of those books I hope to come back to some day. "Through Painted Deserts" renewed my desire to take a long road trip and someday I'll make it happen. Miller's blog reads more like a diary than a series of themes or articles. He draws a clear distinction between his books and his blog and has toyed with the idea of scrapping the online writings completely. His pieces are short and personal yet I find a great deal of insight in them. As someone who would like to step over into the world of full-time writing at some point down the line it's inspiring to hear from someone on the front lines and to see that it is, at some level, possible.
How I came to Blaine Hogan's blog is a mystery. I can't recall where I first saw his name or how I made it to his website and subscribed but a year later I'm still enjoying each post. Blaine's posts tend to be on the longer side and he spends most of his energy writing about the creative process and especially how creativity and art contribute to Christianity. At the moment he's working on the idea of the Artist as the new Pastor and how compelling art--stories, images, words--is more effective at drawing people to the Truth than our current methods. I'm looking forward to seeing how he gives life to this idea and where it leads him.
This morning I realized that Donald Miller and Blaine Hogan were both talking about the same thing: creativity and it's place in the world from a Christian vantage point. At some level that's what I'm hoping to create with this blog. I'm not sure running is a creative outlet but it's become a part of my mental, physical and emotional fabric to the point where, without it, I feel out of balance. On the spiritual side I've discovered that running brings me in tune with God in a way I've missed the last few years. Intentional quiet time is at a premium and running provides some sanctuary without having to stand still. Writing provides the creative outlet and, as you can tell, I've neglected that in the past few months. Changes need to be made but talking about them here won't help me make them and in fact may hinder me all the more.
So I'll leave it at that for now. Running's tough and life will always be too busy but the journey's the thing right now. Thanks for hanging in here with me.
Ryan
Monday, January 17, 2011
Little Victories
Half Marathon training Week 2
If I'm being completely honest, Katie is on week 2 and I'm probably more on 1 or 1.5. I'm running with her on the weekends but we train separately throughout the week and she's definitely been more committed to the program than I. I think my "half marathon veteran" mindset is screwing with me and I'm just praying it doesn't hurt me in the long run.
We ran 4 miles yesterday and I am continually proud of Katie and the progress she's made. After the run yesterday we talked about the longer runs coming up in the next month and she remarked how strange it is to think of 4 miles as "nothing" when even one mile was a chore a short time ago. As I expected, she's pushing me now when it was the other way around. I'm looking forward to the race and I'm enjoying my training but frankly it's too freakin' cold outside.
The majority of miles logged since 2011 began have come on the treadmill and I loathe the treadmill. I don't feel like a runner when I'm on a treadmill, I feel like a hamster. I like being warm and I like running but I just can't reconcile my feelings with my options. I'm ready for sun that not only shines but warms. I'm ready for spring.
Now that I'm thinking about warmer weather I'm also thinking about global warming and how much energy it takes to power a treadmill. Throw a hamster into that mental mix and here's my idea: a human-powered "treadmill" that not only powers itself but gives energy back to the electrical grid. Hook up all the cycles in a classroom to a cache of batteries and you could store quite a bit of energy. I guess if I'm going to feel like a hamster, I should take it to the extreme and put my legs to good use.
So here's to the sun and to warmer temperatures on the way. Until then I'll just keep running outside as much as my body can stand.
Ryan
If I'm being completely honest, Katie is on week 2 and I'm probably more on 1 or 1.5. I'm running with her on the weekends but we train separately throughout the week and she's definitely been more committed to the program than I. I think my "half marathon veteran" mindset is screwing with me and I'm just praying it doesn't hurt me in the long run.
We ran 4 miles yesterday and I am continually proud of Katie and the progress she's made. After the run yesterday we talked about the longer runs coming up in the next month and she remarked how strange it is to think of 4 miles as "nothing" when even one mile was a chore a short time ago. As I expected, she's pushing me now when it was the other way around. I'm looking forward to the race and I'm enjoying my training but frankly it's too freakin' cold outside.
The majority of miles logged since 2011 began have come on the treadmill and I loathe the treadmill. I don't feel like a runner when I'm on a treadmill, I feel like a hamster. I like being warm and I like running but I just can't reconcile my feelings with my options. I'm ready for sun that not only shines but warms. I'm ready for spring.
Now that I'm thinking about warmer weather I'm also thinking about global warming and how much energy it takes to power a treadmill. Throw a hamster into that mental mix and here's my idea: a human-powered "treadmill" that not only powers itself but gives energy back to the electrical grid. Hook up all the cycles in a classroom to a cache of batteries and you could store quite a bit of energy. I guess if I'm going to feel like a hamster, I should take it to the extreme and put my legs to good use.
So here's to the sun and to warmer temperatures on the way. Until then I'll just keep running outside as much as my body can stand.
Ryan
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
2011...Here we go.
Happy New Year! We enjoyed a wonderful week down in Florida with Katie's family, took advantage of the warmer weather and got some good runs in.As 2011 begins I'm thinking a lot about what's in store for the year. Katie and I registered for the Raleigh Rocks half marathon on April 10th and she's already ahead of me in training. With the influx of "tourists" at the Y (who will hopefully become "locals") it's going to be hard to find 10 minutes let alone an hour or so for runs. Add into that the lack of sunlight and frigid temperatures and this training is shaping up to be mentally tougher than my last go-round in the fall.
I'll keep you posted on our progress. Thanks for reading and I hope 2011 brings many blessings your way.
Ryan
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