Entering Into Brokenness

I have many articles that are partially complete and waiting in the wings to be finished and posted. Much of what I write is related to my passion for triathlon and also living life coram Deo - before the “face of God.” Often (and during the weirdest times such as while I’m in the pool or on a flight), a past experience will pop into my head and begin to form itself into an idea for a post. The following is the product of one of those occasions.

A small warning: what you’re about to read may not be easy to take; in fact it will most likely get under your skin…but it may change how you look at the world even if just a little bit, and I hope for the better.

There is a verse in the Bible that says “The plans of the diligent lead surely to abundance, but everyone who is hasty only comes to poverty” (Proverbs 21:5). The meaning of this proverb is well known even in non-religious circles, more commonly as the phrase “There are no get-rich-quick schemes.” It is hard to disagree with such common sense about how to manage money. Consistent and disciplined investments have always increased in value over the long term. The keys are the words consistent and disciplined – consistent meaning “steady” and disciplined meaning “controlled”, especially if you don’t feel like it or it’s not “convenient.” These are tried and true principles that constantly prove themselves out in a universal sense, not just in the world of money.

While only a few things in life such as death and taxes are guaranteed, at this season of our lives Steve and I are realizing the fruits of decisions (many of them not easy) made 20+ years ago regarding our finances. We long ago learned hard lessons about the difference between needs and wants, both of us growing up in environments where often we didn’t know where our next meal was coming from, let alone the resources to splurge on things like college without help from the government.

The net-net of it all is that we still carry those values with us today – being true to the difference between needs and wants, and using our financial literacy to make sound decisions that benefit not only us but more importantly those around us as well.

There is so much brokenness around us, sometimes more than we can stand, or perhaps care to get involved in…

Steve and I were brought face to face with wretched human suffering on a scale we’ve never previously witnessed when we visited India 3 years ago. I went there on a work assignment and some accumulated air miles thrown in made it possible for Steve to accompany me as well.

Pictures don’t do it justice. The moment we stepped off the plane, the smell nearly knocked us over. The city of Mumbai (formerly Bombay) does not have the infrastructures in place for waste disposal, trash collection, water treatment, and pollution control that we have in our country. We both wept silently in the cab from the airport to the hotel. Literally hundreds of people were sleeping on sidewalks or dirt mounds that were clearly their domiciles, as we could plainly see rope strung occasionally between two trees and clothing or pots/pans hanging from them. A nearby river functioned simultaneously as both a waste collection area and a source of drinking water. One morning we personally witnessed the horrific death of a peasant woman as she was trying to cross a road full of traffic. Her body was cut in half by a speeding construction truck and no one seemed to care. In fact the driver was in an argument with another motorist presumably over further stalling the flow of traffic. The human life that had just been carelessly snuffed out was nearly a non-issue.

We spent a month there and I cannot go into every detail of the heartbreaking poverty that was up in our face every day. I can say we came back changed people, with firsthand experience of the utter depravity and hopelessness to which human nature can descend.

So when the woman approached us a few months ago as we were crossing the street in the Central West End area of St. Louis, headed to dinner at a nice restaurant, we knew instantly that she was looking for a handout. She was dressed shabbily and clearly wanting money…”a dollar so I can get a bus ride…” is what she said. She wasn’t rude but it was clear she’d done this before.

I knew what she wanted was money to get Lord knows what, but we weren’t there to give her what she wanted. This was no random occurrence. God’s providence had brought us together “for such a time as this” to give her something she needed…even more than money….and that was dignity and hope. Without thinking too much about it, I offered her to come to dinner with us. Steve and I have had numerous (too many to count) non-verbal exchanges, the kind where no words are necessary and you’re both on the same page, and you know it; this was one of those times -- we both knew it was the right thing to do.

The woman seemed taken aback, as if no one had ever spontaneously offered her a hot (and really nice) meal instead of a harsh word or money to make her go away and relieve the person’s discomfort with human suffering so in-your-face. She cautiously followed us into the restaurant and I sensed she might not want to embarrass herself by sitting at the white linen tables or have awkward conversation with two strangers she had been begging from just minutes before. So I offered her the option of sitting at the bar where they served a complete menu for folks wanting to sip a drink with a friend or enjoy a quiet dinner alone.

She decided to sit at the bar, and I instructed the bartender to let her order whatever 2 items she wanted from the menu as an appetizer and an entrée, and then offer her whatever she would like to drink. I told him we would pick up the tab when we were finished with our own dinner.

We ate in a different area of the restaurant and she was gone by the time we were leaving. I wondered if she just bailed after our invitation, but the bartender said she enjoyed a really nice meal and had just recently left. We paid the check and I was surprised to see he was taken aback by our apparently random generosity – but his smile said it all.

We all need it and many of us don’t have it – dignity and hope. Sure many of us drive around in our SUVs, live prosperous lives in our suburban homes, and give the best years of our lives preparing our children for adulthood and its responsibilities. It’s easy to find brokenness in the inner cities. However in the squeaky clean of suburbia, brokenness is just as rampant, and we simply do a fine job of masking it with money. The problems are the same: drugs, promiscuity, teen pregnancies, broken marriages, financial hardship, the list goes on.

How we live our lives every day speaks volumes about where our hearts really are. Don’t get me wrong – I am not against people having nice stuff and it might surprise you to learn the Bible does NOT condemn prosperity. God has no issue with us having money – as long as money doesn’t have us. We live in the greatest and richest country in the world. My passport is literally FILLED with stamps from the many other cultures I’ve experienced, and I’m convinced that despite our problems, there is no more beautiful, diverse, or abundant place on earth. God has already blessed America. So do we invest the lion’s share of our time in the here and now in the latest things we want that soon fade with the passing of time? Or do we make the ultimate investment, one that pays eternal dividends, and invest in people – with all the brokenness that comes along with them?

Funny, Jesus did just that…

Memphis in Mayhem

You could’ve named me after the famous (or not) monarch who in 1066 AD ran over what is now present day England and became known as William the Conqueror. I came to do the same – run over and conquer the course in Millington, TN – home to the Naval Air Station where Steve had been based 25 years ago, and also the location of the Memphis in May Triathlon, an extremely well organized and FUN Olympic-distance race for athletes both pro and amateur.

We left early Saturday morning to make the trip down. It’s a straight shot south on I-55 and we had a great time maneuvering our crotchety 13 year old Saab with all our gear in the back down through New Madrid (pronounced “MAA-drid” not Muh-DRID), Missouri -- site of the New Madrid Fault, one of the biggest geological faults in the United States, bigger than San Andreas. The running joke is that we’d be the new California if the Big One ever hit.

But the only things shaking Saturday morning were our butts as we rocked on to the tunes of Pillar, Red, Seventh Day Slumber, Starfield, Kutless – great Christian rock bands with lyrics that just as easily apply to racing as much as they do to living a life centered around God.

We arrived in Millington right on schedule, where I picked up my race packet and changed into my wetsuit for a quick acclimation to the lake and its 69F degree temperature. A couple short race efforts and I was ready for Sunday!

We had dinner with my friend and supersonic triathlete Kristin and her husband John. It was the first time we had met him and we all hit it off right away. John’s a software programmer, and well, we’re all technical types, so conversation was easy.

Sleep came easy that night and I was awake Sunday before the alarm. I shook Steve awake like a child on Christmas morning, and he took a shower while I got dressed, ate, and packed up our stuff.

After Steve got out of the bathroom he turned on the TV and what to our surprise but the original Naked Gun movie was on. In no time at all we were loudly laughing our butts off at 5am, hoping no one else heard us. When I opened the door to the hotel room, 5 other rooms were emptying out with triathletes all packing their cars. We skipped to our car, unable to stop giggling and repeating the movie’s one-liners and gags that joyfully work their way into our conversation and enrich our everyday lives. This was a perfect way to start Race Day :).

We arrived at the race site, where thousands of other athletes were driving in as well. Steve and I carried our stuff and wheeled my bike to the Body Marking area and a smiling guy with a black marker wrote my race number on my arms. Then I pulled my sweatpants down (so he could mark my calves) and said LOUDLY “Besides my husband, you’re the only other man I’ve dropped my pants for!” 10 other athletes standing around started howling as did the body-marking volunteer. Steve videotaped the whole thing.

I racked my bike and set up my stuff with my blue polka-dotted towel – a radical towel color helps me find my equipment after the swim and bike so I can totally focus on getting my gear on and worry less about finding my own transition stall.

Swimmers went off in a time trial start, meaning the officials put athletes in the water every 3 seconds. I was off in a flash and had a great swim once I got going. During the last “leg” the water suddenly became a lot rougher, and I looked up to see we had a nice headwind blowing, creating a nice chop. I redoubled my efforts to pull harder – by now I was sighting on the Exit balloon – and was surprised at how many people I was passing. For the first time I actually raced the swim and didn’t simply endure it…big difference.

At the exit, I trotted out of the water and into the Transition area where I peeled off the wetsuit and hopped on my bike. The first mile of the bike was HILLY and my legs were instantly screeching at me. I also had a really painful air pocket in my esophagus that made me want to belch, or eventually hurl. Being aero only made it worse and to add to the fun, we seemed perpetually turned into the 25mph winds. Even though the course turned a corner here and there, it seemed we had only about 5 minutes of being downwind before the road turned and we were assaulted once again. I was crawling either at 12mph or zooming at 25mph; there seemed very little in between. And in the immortal words of Elmer Fudd, my legs were on FI-WAH the entire time :).

I did pass a lot of other athletes, once again a new and exciting trend this season, and a testament to all those rides on my trainer over the winter – thanks Jen!! :)

Finally I reached the Transition Area and dismounted. Steve was there just over the fence and he yelled “You look AWESOME!” – I can’t begin to emphasize how much this means to an athlete when her quads and hip flexors are about to spontaneously combust :).

I got my bike racked, threw off my helmet and shoes, tied my running shoes and ran through the Transition Area towards the run course. I lost my balance a bit and promptly plowed through 3 volunteers holding out cups of water/Gatorade! It was like picking off mailboxes with a bat – except I couldn’t stop…sorry, so sorry, man, I’m sorry!

I reached the run course and reality set in – the chest pain hadn’t abated and it hurt a LOT to run. I made it to Mile 1 and still clocked a record split though having walked a portion already. At Mile 2 there was a porta-potty and I ducked in to pee, thinking it might relieve some of the pressure and move things around.

Nothing. I tried bouncing, exaggerating my step, and this brought on a bad case of the hiccups which only made the pain worse. I had to stop running altogether and walk.

Strangely enough I really didn’t mind. I knew I had crushed my previous swim and bike times on this course, so I was already happy. The weekend before I had run a fast triathlon, so I knew I was capable. My feet were a couple racehorses jostling in the stalls, but it seemed nothing I tried would lessen the pain. Periodically I would try running again but the pain came right back within a few minutes and walking was the only way to keep it manageable.

At the beginning of the run, I was on target to beat my previous time by nearly 35 minutes, huge for an Olympic distance triathlon. With my GI problems, that didn’t happen but I still beat my previous race time on this course and scored a personal best on my swim and bike times.

I’ll take it! :)

A Cheerful Farewell

The last few weeks have been a blur with early-season racing – namely the St. Louis Half Marathon, a long-course duathlon, and a sprint distance triathlon last weekend. Man, it has been exhilarating to get out and “burn the dust” off the legs after winter hibernation.

Our investment broker Patrick came along for his first tri ever and we made the poor guy show up at our house by 4am (natural for me, ungodly for him :)) for the 2 ½ hour drive to the race. We racked all three bikes, stacked our bags, threw some food and drinks into a cooler, and tore out (ok – drove stealthily) of the driveway by 4:15am. As planned, Steve promptly fell asleep in the back seat. I was already hopped up on enough coffee to carry me through several races so I was behind the wheel, Patrick riding shotgun.

We arrived exactly at 6:30, perfect for an 8:00am Start time, picked up our race packets and racked our bikes in the Transition Area. It was about 45F and we already knew the water temperature was 62F – yikes. Thankfully we brought wetsuits to mitigate the jolt of the frigid water.

After a short run warmup, we put on our wetsuits and once again Steve relished the joy of “helping” his wife pull on her second skin :). We laughed all over again at the hilarity of his “free pass” to grope his wife in public last summer as he helped me with my wetsuit in the 39-degree temperatures at the Ironman Start. Not so long ago, it used to be he pinned my race number on my shirt – kind of as a “comfort” routine for me before a race. Now I use a race belt for my number and he’s literally “into my ‘skin’” – what kind of subtle racket is this that my husband is cultivating?

Not that I’m complaining… :)

At the swim warmup, well, to say the water was frigid wins the Understatement of the Year Award - my head immediately felt like a bag of ice. I could only stand it for 5 minutes and was hit with a considerable wave of vertigo as I staggered out of the water and onto the beach. I’ve never been vulnerable to the “brain freeze” that sometimes goes with quickly downing a cold drink, so I was caught off guard. It quickly subsided however and I was READY to race.

The duathletes (run/bike/run – no swim, perfect for athletes who hate or don’t wish to take on an open water swim – also the event Steve was in) went first. He was off in a flash and we die-hard triathletes waited in the cold water for the Start. The men went off first and an amazing fact quickly emerged – nearly 90% of the athletes were GUYS. Only a handful of us girls remained after the men’s wave. We all started laughing, mainly at all the testosterone seeping into the lake – the guys are SO COMPETITIVE – but I really shouldn’t say much about that since the fangs come out on me too once the gun goes off.

Finally we were off into the water and the time flew. I guess that’s what happens in ridiculous temperatures – you swim so fast you barely touch the surface, ha ha :).

I was out onto the beach as fast as a Cigarette boat and had my wetsuit to the waist by the time I was running up the hill to the bike area. Once in the transition, I’ve learned to get my wetsuit down to the ground and just step fully onto the remainder; it peels right off in less than 30 seconds. Ah, experience…and practice! Thanks Jen for the expert advice :)!!

It was still 45F when I was getting onto my bike but I hardly felt it. I was pedaling like mad to get my legs fired up; this was only a 14 mile bike and it was high time to push HARD. I passed a girl who was 38 and she actually began to speed up when I was going around her. This is a blatant violation of the USA Triathlon rules and it was clear she didn’t know (or didn’t care, but I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt). I said over my shoulder “USAT rules say a rider should fall back when being passed. You’ll be penalized if you’re caught.” She said “Oh, OK; I’m sorry – I’m a first-timer.” I said “No worries; it’s how I found out too.”

Here’s where the fangs came out – once I said that to her and also saw she’s 5 years my junior, I was GONE. Something ignited in me and I wanted to dust a younger “newbie.”

Later on I also dusted plenty of guys too and that is very gratifying. Guys with their bigger leg muscles can naturally push a bigger gear than us girls, so it felt good to hang with the boys for a bit – and then say SEE YA!! :)

I was in the Dude-This-is-Way-Uncomfortable Zone the whole ride, but that is exactly where I wanted to be. Steve said he saw me on the bike course but my head was down and I was so focused I didn’t even “see” him. He was right – the only thing I was seeing was the road, the next rider, and my average mph – which was appreciably higher than last season – YEAH!

I blasted onto the run and worked hard to find my legs. I clocked a speedy first mile split and then shortly thereafter heard the ambulance siren on the course. The strength immediately left my legs for a few minutes – what if it was Steve? Younger athletes have died due to seemingly the most random causes. Five eternal minutes passed and I struggled to focus on running my own race and not let my mind’s rightful authority be overthrown by my undisciplined and freethinking imagination.

It turned out to be a guy who was cramping so badly he couldn’t walk and I saw Steve shortly afterwards looking just as healthy as ever on the run course. It took every ounce of energy to not burst into tears - all I could say was “I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU!!”

I emptied myself out on the course and finished very strong. My bike and run times are substantially faster than last year and after 3 early-season races, in all of which I blew away my own personal records, I am saying a CHEERFUL FAREWELL to the back of the pack.

Na na nah na, na na nah na, hey hey hey, GOOD-BYE!!!