It may be LESS THAN 40 DEGREES OUTSIDE (!!!! actually I don't hate it, it's just odd), but for me, spring has definitely began. That special time of year where I work basically every day. Part of it is because I like to stay busy. Part of it is choice/figuring out life, because I know while I will make lots of money in the spring, I will not make very much money in the summer, and so, like the coke-induced nut gathering of the squirrels, I'm preparing my stock.
So mostly I am writing this to remind myself to keep margin, to make time for important things and not give up habits that I've been developing for the past few weeks, to breathe, to look for God opportunities, but mostly, to not complain. I literally get to go around and make music for a living (LIVE!!!!), and while it's not always the most amazing thing, it certainly isn't a bad thing.
I just have to remember that, when I look at my calendar and see that I don't have a day off for several weeks in a row. . . I did it to myself. And this has been the norm for the past couple of years. I'm just not mentally ready for it. . . or rather, I am almost ready for it, but it kind of snuck up on me.
I'm just rambling. . . mostly because I need to go to bed, but I also am getting off the show high so I'm not going to be able to sleep for a little bit.
1/19/2018
1/10/2018
Another marathon
As I stated in a previous post, my experience in running marathons tends to be representative of the year that led up to it. My time for this year was 5:21:07, my second best time, and in so many ways that overall result fits well. This past year was a year that I choose to engage in life again, not to just float through and complete tasks, but to be alive. And making that shift had great results. . . but it was not without its difficulties. I lost weight, ran two half marathons (1:59 and 2:08), got to spend a week in Canada with another church plant, kept up a 4.0 on the master's degree, made new friends. . . from an eagle-eye perspective, the total outcome of the year was very positive.
But let's break the comparison down even further.
During the first half of the race I was running about a 10-minute mile for quite a while, which is about right for me as I spent more months of the year running than not. I kept that pace until somewhere between mile 14 and 15, where I finally stopped to walk. I attempted to run when it felt OK, but around 17 I was "done." I walked most of the next two miles, not miserably, but with pain and difficulty. I ran some between 19 and 21, and then walked most of the rest of the race until I passed marker 25, which I then ran almost that whole final mile.
My year started out well- I lost weight, I got engaged in the Word and with Grace Life, I was balancing a lot of things at once but never completely overwhelmed. Things were good through the first part of the summer. . . and then Heather died (mile 14). I think that was really the first big blow to my emotional/mental state. But, in spite of the pain, I kept going (miles 15-17). But then the fall (miles 17-25). . . maybe recognizing at Cam's birthday that I had out-survived her (which, when I just typed that, my reaction was visceral. . . so yeah, probably that) (also, why my brain is weird and didn't think about it until then, I couldn't tell you, but seems par for the course), fighting the crazy battles at church as we sought to pray and disciple our people, none of this stopped me completely but certainly was difficult. And then it all came crashing down, and I'm not still sure exactly why. . . the "wall" of depression, anger, loneliness, it all compiled. . . . but this past couple of weeks, I've rallied (mile 26). Not that everything is fixed, not that life is not without pain. . . but I'm not lost in a quagmire of lies and inner death. Not waking up in the morning and telling myself "no one cares about you" or "there's no results to your labor."
And so this year, the question I'm asking myself is: how do I deal with pain?
I mean it in two perspectives- what is it that I actually do, and what do I need to do differently?
I've started to recognize that, as much as my mind enjoys staying busy, it is absolutely a way of coping more than it is a lifestyle I truly enjoy. Because I do enjoy it. . . when it's a couple weeks at a time. I thrive in the 85% full calendar, a place with margin but greatly filled with activity. And when I objectively find 85%, things are great. But when things aren't great. . . I stretch that 85 into 90, 95, 98. . . and pretend like it's normal. And for four or five weeks out of the year, sure, that can work. But I stop saying "no" when I'm upset because doing things keeps me from thinking about processing. Because then I convince myself I don't have to deal with anything; there's no time. The problem is sometimes that works. . . but most of the time it does not.
So what do I need to do differently?
That new thing that happened at this race. . . the running at the end. . . it's very much reminiscent of Isaiah 43:
“Forget about what’s happened; don’t keep going over old history. Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new. It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it? There it is! I’m making a road through the desert, rivers in the badlands. Wild animals will say ‘Thank you!’—the coyotes and the buzzards—because I provided water in the desert, rivers through the sun-baked earth, drinking water for the people I chose, the people I made especially for myself, a people custom-made to praise me."
(I started reading through the Message at some point last year, partially to give me a little different perspective on Scripture and partially as an attempt to keep myself slipping into the hole I still ended up in, but actually it's been great)
So I see the new thing. . . and what I have to do is go to it. Jump on board. Run to it. Ignore all the other distractions. Plunge myself into the nourishment I know I need and know is the only true Source.
My word for this year: rooted.
But let's break the comparison down even further.
During the first half of the race I was running about a 10-minute mile for quite a while, which is about right for me as I spent more months of the year running than not. I kept that pace until somewhere between mile 14 and 15, where I finally stopped to walk. I attempted to run when it felt OK, but around 17 I was "done." I walked most of the next two miles, not miserably, but with pain and difficulty. I ran some between 19 and 21, and then walked most of the rest of the race until I passed marker 25, which I then ran almost that whole final mile.
My year started out well- I lost weight, I got engaged in the Word and with Grace Life, I was balancing a lot of things at once but never completely overwhelmed. Things were good through the first part of the summer. . . and then Heather died (mile 14). I think that was really the first big blow to my emotional/mental state. But, in spite of the pain, I kept going (miles 15-17). But then the fall (miles 17-25). . . maybe recognizing at Cam's birthday that I had out-survived her (which, when I just typed that, my reaction was visceral. . . so yeah, probably that) (also, why my brain is weird and didn't think about it until then, I couldn't tell you, but seems par for the course), fighting the crazy battles at church as we sought to pray and disciple our people, none of this stopped me completely but certainly was difficult. And then it all came crashing down, and I'm not still sure exactly why. . . the "wall" of depression, anger, loneliness, it all compiled. . . . but this past couple of weeks, I've rallied (mile 26). Not that everything is fixed, not that life is not without pain. . . but I'm not lost in a quagmire of lies and inner death. Not waking up in the morning and telling myself "no one cares about you" or "there's no results to your labor."
And so this year, the question I'm asking myself is: how do I deal with pain?
I mean it in two perspectives- what is it that I actually do, and what do I need to do differently?
I've started to recognize that, as much as my mind enjoys staying busy, it is absolutely a way of coping more than it is a lifestyle I truly enjoy. Because I do enjoy it. . . when it's a couple weeks at a time. I thrive in the 85% full calendar, a place with margin but greatly filled with activity. And when I objectively find 85%, things are great. But when things aren't great. . . I stretch that 85 into 90, 95, 98. . . and pretend like it's normal. And for four or five weeks out of the year, sure, that can work. But I stop saying "no" when I'm upset because doing things keeps me from thinking about processing. Because then I convince myself I don't have to deal with anything; there's no time. The problem is sometimes that works. . . but most of the time it does not.
So what do I need to do differently?
That new thing that happened at this race. . . the running at the end. . . it's very much reminiscent of Isaiah 43:
“Forget about what’s happened; don’t keep going over old history. Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new. It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it? There it is! I’m making a road through the desert, rivers in the badlands. Wild animals will say ‘Thank you!’—the coyotes and the buzzards—because I provided water in the desert, rivers through the sun-baked earth, drinking water for the people I chose, the people I made especially for myself, a people custom-made to praise me."
(I started reading through the Message at some point last year, partially to give me a little different perspective on Scripture and partially as an attempt to keep myself slipping into the hole I still ended up in, but actually it's been great)
So I see the new thing. . . and what I have to do is go to it. Jump on board. Run to it. Ignore all the other distractions. Plunge myself into the nourishment I know I need and know is the only true Source.
My word for this year: rooted.
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