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I'm SO gonna win...
It’s almost here, people! The Vulcan 10K is this Saturday in Birmingham, and I’m getting excited. I ran five miles on Saturday, and I kept a pace that, if I sustain for the entire 6.2 in the race, will get me to my goal time. A big IF, considering how my performance fluctuates from day to day, but I’m hopeful.
Running feels good right now because the weather is so cool. South Alabama is experiencing a very early cold snap, and I find it delightful. For once, I don’t feel like a poser with pumpkins and scarecrows on my porch. It’s bad when your scarecrow sweats.
Anyway, I just have to find the time to get about three short runs in this week. I also have to finish a novel, write a review of it, write a feature article on a home built with beams hewn by hand by the Amish, bake a cream cheese pound cake for a friend whose mom died, attend the funeral of the friend’s mom, attend three meetings at my son’s school, figure out whether the Women’s Ministries Committee can handle taking over Operation Christmas Child for my church next year, find an Indiana Jones costume to fit Bubba, drive to Birmingham, meet with the photographer who took Sissy’s one-year-old pictures to review the negatives and purchase more (I’ve regretted not doing so for years, now), go on a date with my husband, and…and…I know I’m forgetting something. It’s probably something important like breathing, or praying…
If I run this week, it will be at midnight with one of those little coal miner lights on my hat. But I must. I can’t blow it this close to the promised land.
If things go well Saturday, I may set my sights on the Mercedes Half Marathon in February…maybe. Let’s just take this one step at a time.
Run on, friends.
Hall looks heavenward after winning the Olympic Trials.
Do you know Ryan Hall? If you don’t follow American distance runners, you may not–but you should.
I first came to admire Hall purely based upon his athletic prowess, when he shattered the U.S. Olympic Trials record (2:09:02) in the men’s marathon last November. The elite running press began to tout him as the one who could put the U.S. back on the map in his sport. Then I came across an article in Runner’s World that made him infinitely more compelling.
He insists that he’s not a runner who happens to be a Christian. He’s a Christian who happens to be a runner…
The article is entitled The Power and The Glory. Click the link to check it out.
First, an apology for not being able to blog from the road during our week of travel. I did (dutifully) take my laptop and hope to do so, but found that wifi connectivity is not as plentiful everywhere as it is here. And even if I had known where to find a connection, I doubt I would have been able to fight the traffic to get to it. You see, everyone in North America decided to visit the Great Smoky Mountains last week. You weren’t there? You were the only one.
Don’t get me wrong, we enjoyed our trip overall, but the bumper-to-bumper traffic both in town and in the national park was a downer. I often visited the Smokies with my family as a child during the fall. And it was never that crowded. As my husband and I sat–and I mean SAT, dead still–on the main road in and out of the park, landlocked in a never-ending chain of smog-emitting cars, he remarked:
“I think America may be loving this park to death.”
I surely hope not. But one has to wonder what the cost to the natural surroundings will be if the numbers of visitors continues to climb.
By far, the highlight of our trip was a horseback ride in the national park. We did this on Saturday morning, when the temperature was around 40 degrees outside. We had taken light jackets and a couple of sweatshirts, but we weren’t really prepared for weather that cold. When we arrived at the stables, the cowboys had built and fire and let us huddle up with them to warm up before we rode out.
Warming up before hitting the trail.
Now Bubba, our 8-year-old, is a cautious sort, and wasn’t sure if this whole idea was sound. I feel like he’s heading toward a career as an actuary for an insurance company, assessing risk for a living. But we assured him that these trail horses at public stables are so gentle and unmotivated, his biggest problem would probably be keeping his horse from falling asleep on the job.
And that turned out to be the case for everyone on the ride except me–the only rider with any real previous experience. I rode fairly often as a child, as we kept horses on our farm. So they gave everyone else a horse which had years ago lost the will to live…and gave me Strawberry.
Sounds like an easy old mare, right? Wrong. A gelding with a chip on his shoulder. I saddled up, picked up the reigns, gently began to reign Strawberry into line to head up the trail. Then Strawberry tried to launch me into the stratosphere.
My husband, who witnessed all of this from behind me said later, “When I saw your rear-end get airborn, I thought, ‘This cannot end well.'”
I have no idea what spooked the horse. But I fought with every muscle in my body to stay on. I fell to the left when I came back down, and was able to catch my foot firmly enough in the left stirrup to grab the saddle horn and get my balance.
Then, instead of taking me off Strawberry and sending him to detention, the lead cowboy just yelled back to us, “ALL RIGHT NOW…WE’RE GOING TO BE RIDING SOME PRETTY SERIOUS HILLS ON THESE TRAILS IN THE NATIONAL PARK…MAKE SURE YOU MAINTAIN YOUR BALANCE…WE’LL BE COVERING AROUND FOUR MILES OF TERRAIN IN THE NEXT HOUR…”
So let me get this straight: I’m supposed to trust Strawberry to carry me safely on narrow mountain trails that are bordered by nothing less that 50-foot drop-offs, when Strawberry has balked at me just SITTING ON HIM AT THE STABLE? Sounds delightful.
happy trails? maybe?
All I can say is THANK GOODNESS Bubba didn’t even see my incident (he was in front of me) or he would have bailed off of Maggie the Mare in a nanosecond. Game over. But he and Sissy were completely unaware. Sissy (on Toby) was the lead horse right behind the guide (who held onto Toby’s lead the whole way). She felt pretty special riding up front with the cowboy.
To his credit, Strawberry behaved for the rest of the ride. But I must admit that I didn’t enjoy much of the relaxing natural beauty for about the first half, as I was anticipating my next rodeo moment. Thankfully, it never came.
The lesson in this is as follows: when the cowboys say, ‘you ever ride bafor?’ you’re response should be ‘no, I’ve never even seen a horse before. Is this a horse? Ooo, pretty…”
Hi Readers! Just a quick post to let you know that I’ll be away for a few days for a little Fall Break trip to the mountains. Our little family is escaping for a much-needed breather from our usual rat race, and a taste of the crisp tempuratures to be found at higher elevations.
I truly can’t wait: nature, cool breezes, two kids…a thousand hours in the car…a dog that needs to be boarded at rates that make me choke (don’t these people know we’re in a recession–and it’s just a DOG?)…what could go wrong?
My friend Marcie informed me today that if I was ANY kind of blogger I would take my laptop and find a wifi hotspot to keep you all posted on our adventures. She says the current economic downturn is forcing her to trim her entertainment budget, and she’s pretty much down to this blog. Do we need any further evidence that this is a serious crisis? Heaven help us.
So I pledge to try, but no promises…Sing it with me now: “Country roooooads, take me hooooome, to the plaaaace I belooong, West Virginiaaaaa, mountain mamaaaaa….”
We’re moving into what is my favorite time of year–the fall. It gives those of us in the deep south a much-needed break from the oppressive summer heat, and hints at all of the holiday fun just around the corner.
I was fortunate enough to get some work done in my front yard last week. We put in some beautiful new camellias, and repainted the concrete containers on our front steps, then replanted them with great flowers and greenery. So after church today, I made a trip to Lowe’s to get a new spray nozzle for the hose by the front steps. My husband is nervous that I will, once again, commit horticultural homicide through water deprivation. To calm his fears, I have pledged to water like a woman possessed.
While in Lowe’s, I noticed that the Christmas decor is out, and I couldn’t resist walking through to see if there was anything new that my home would just be begging for come December. Most of it was the usual fare: the artificial trees (I’m a real tree girl, love the smell), lights galore and various shiny bric-a-brac. Then I rounded the corner and discovered the ever-growing selection of JUMBO SIZED INFLATABLE LAWN DISPLAYS.
GOOD NEWS! In addition to the typical inflatable snowmen, inflatable Santas and his necessary inflatable reindeer, inflatable trees and inflatable gingerbread men, you can now purchase AN INFLATABLE STABLE COMPLETE WITH INFLATABLE MARY, JOSEPH, AND BABY JESUS. Uh-huh. Yeah. You sure can.
As I stood there in the aisle, watching Joseph’s beard undulating with the strength of his air-pump motor, I was forced to ask, “Should the deity, God made flesh, be made…inflatable?” It left me a little unsettled, I must say. And I know that you could reason that if we’re going to deck the halls (or the yard, in this case) then we should do it with things that celebrate the true meaning of the holiday. I get that. I just think that for me, and inflatable Jesus whirring away in my front yard doesn’t communicate exactly what I want to say about the greatest gift mankind has ever known. Something about it just doesn’t spell out “awe and reverence.”
Oh, let’s be honest. I don’t want ANYTHING inflatable and whirring in my front yard. I just feel even more this way toward the Holy Family. So am I a snob, or a believer who is very sensitive to casual portrayals of Christ? Even I can’t answer that…
So go for the inflatable tree instead. I won’t love it, but I won’t hate it, if it makes you happy. And I know how all of you desire my approval of your expressions of Christmas joy…
Living to Tell About It 