Some people say life is a rollercoaster; a ride that will show you beautiful highs, and send you down faster than you realize. Its absurdly and amazingly true! I don't know why life happens like this, but it does.
I used to believe there was a system to it. The ripple effect is what I once dubbed my belief. In a simple explanation every action was a rock. Small deeds were pebbles, extravagant ones were boulders. If you did a large good deed, it is like you through a large rock into the pool of life and the ripples of the aftermath caused by your rock/deed were the good consequences that came back to you. But if you did a wrong thing, you through a bad rock into the water and would then receive ripples which aren't so good. Its a simple, and somewhat silly belief I have. But I kind of like it, because it gives a system that seems to work in this huge life.
Unfortunately, the past days have blown my system out of the water and left me in a state of perplexity. It is hard to draw any real conclusion from what has been happening to and around me. The ripple effect would say my actions resulted in these consequences, but what I am experiencing is out of the ordinary. I hardly know what to do or think about all that has happened. Perhaps if you saw my past days you'd understand:
First, I was asked to be by best friend's best man in his wedding (I'm honored and so excited!), then I got into my first car accident (it was small, but inconvenient. Everyone was fine and it has been taken care of)
Next, I ran and finished a marathon as a memorial to my brother! (check that off my bucket list!) But I came out injured, and 3 weeks after I still have some trouble standing for long periods of time without pain in my ankle. (Some days are worse than others, I need to invest in insoles and new shoes for special support)
After, I was invited to a Target open house because I was notified I am being reviewed for a job I want. (I've been applying for over a year and a half. The fact that I've had two interviews recently excites me!) Suddenly, the girl I was dating ends our precious relationship as we were beginning to blossom into something bigger than we ever experienced. (Just when you start to truly believe they are the one, they pull away, or so it seems.)
Finally, I won a contest which awarded me $300. (I was astonished to get an email which said my prize was on the way. I didn't believe it until I later confirmed I won! yay!) Only to be shadowed by the sudden death of my comedic uncle. (May he rest in peace. Please pray for my family.)
With all this happening, its only fitting I have a song titled "Everything Has Changed"stuck in my head. Can you recognize with me the fact that its been weird?! This is the epitome of the rollercoaster life is! Before I can finish celebrating or grieving an occasion, something else happens. I am living a life right now where I don't know what to do with myself.
Throughout all of this, there actually has been something consistent in my life. The truth that God is good. Though the past 26 days has been an emotional, physical, and psychological thrill ride, He has given me a peace which I understand just as much as I understand this past month. (Which is not at all.) I have heard more people recommend, directly and indirectly to me, to stay rooted in Christ and spend time with Him during this short period of time than any other time in my life! But I listened. I've been doing my best to focus on Him and His word. It is because of Him I'm beginning to understand how I'm able to be content in every situation like Paul stated in Phil. 4:11. It is all because of the peace he has given me (us). This peace, beyond my comprehension, is beautiful, even in my current situation. I may not know what to do, but at least my uncertainty is filled with peace.
I don't know what will happen n the days to come. I know I'd like things to be less drastic, but if not, I know I have a peace around me. Thanks be to God, for He is good, and...consistent.
Monday, February 25, 2013
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Why I Did It and then What Happened
Today is February 10th 2013. It is the anniversary of my brother's death. For those of you who know me, you most likely don't know that I had a brother growing up. He has been my best kept secret for many years. I don't usually talk about him, because when if I bring him up, often times people ask questions about my brother (because they didn't know I had one) and I don't like telling the story of his death. But there are times that I do like to talk about him, because he is my inspiration.
As a little boy, there was no one else I looked up to more than my brother. He was the coolest, most popular, physically fit man I ever met. And I got to share a room with him! Even though it was his idea to name me Michael, he always called me "Best Friend," and honor I loved so much. He was the greatest man I ever met; the only person I ever wanted to truly wanted to be growing up.
He had some truly great moments which I had the fortune to witness. One of those events was a marathon. My brother ran one for his senior project for high school back in 2000. Not only did he run and get a finisher's trophy, he trained hard every day and earned himself a 3rd place in his division honor finishing with a time just over 3 hours and 20 min. He was incredible! Devoted to his mission, he finished in an amazing time for someone in his position. He was an inspiration.
13 years later, I ran a marathon. My entire reasoning for running the marathon was to be closer to my brother. I had a feeling that if I were to put myself in the same training, the same pain and the same grueling race, I would in fact be more connected to him than before, maybe even be more like him, like I dreamed of as a child.
When I crossed the finished line with my then girlfriend, she held me close in her arms as I began to fall over from the pain I had in my injured ankles. In this moment a rush of feelings flooded my heart and unfortunately I did not feel any closer to my brother. I mostly felt pain all over my legs, soreness in my body and just overall tired.
I remember my girlfriend asking me if I felt something special because of what I had just done. "You're amazing! Such a motivation!" I responded, "I don't feel amazing. I only feel pain." It was true, I didn't feel like I did anything special in the moment, although it was astonishingly hard to complete a 26.2 mile race. Moments later I received a Facebook message from a friend. which said, "I am so proud of you! You have now done something most of us will never do. You have shown your perseverance and heart. I felt very moved. You are an inspiration!!" I didn't really believe I was an inspiration, but within 5 minutes of finishing two people thought I was.
As I recovered in a medical tent getting attention for my ankles, I began to think about the monumental adventure I had just went through. As more time went on, I received congratulations from many people for the feat I had just accomplished. Suddenly I realized, I actually was something special. People were telling me I was an inspiration and a motivation for them to start doing something in there lives.
I saw my brother as an inspiration because of the dedication to the goal he set, the pain he went through in training and in performance, and the outcome of it all. Apparently people saw the same thing in me. Though I didn't feel like I was connecting to my brother in the moment, I was becoming more like him than I ever had before. Becoming more like my childhood idol wasn't easy, there was pain sweat and tears, but I made it. My brother was an inspiration, and I had become one too just like I've always wanted.
As a little boy, there was no one else I looked up to more than my brother. He was the coolest, most popular, physically fit man I ever met. And I got to share a room with him! Even though it was his idea to name me Michael, he always called me "Best Friend," and honor I loved so much. He was the greatest man I ever met; the only person I ever wanted to truly wanted to be growing up.
He had some truly great moments which I had the fortune to witness. One of those events was a marathon. My brother ran one for his senior project for high school back in 2000. Not only did he run and get a finisher's trophy, he trained hard every day and earned himself a 3rd place in his division honor finishing with a time just over 3 hours and 20 min. He was incredible! Devoted to his mission, he finished in an amazing time for someone in his position. He was an inspiration.
13 years later, I ran a marathon. My entire reasoning for running the marathon was to be closer to my brother. I had a feeling that if I were to put myself in the same training, the same pain and the same grueling race, I would in fact be more connected to him than before, maybe even be more like him, like I dreamed of as a child.
When I crossed the finished line with my then girlfriend, she held me close in her arms as I began to fall over from the pain I had in my injured ankles. In this moment a rush of feelings flooded my heart and unfortunately I did not feel any closer to my brother. I mostly felt pain all over my legs, soreness in my body and just overall tired.
I remember my girlfriend asking me if I felt something special because of what I had just done. "You're amazing! Such a motivation!" I responded, "I don't feel amazing. I only feel pain." It was true, I didn't feel like I did anything special in the moment, although it was astonishingly hard to complete a 26.2 mile race. Moments later I received a Facebook message from a friend. which said, "I am so proud of you! You have now done something most of us will never do. You have shown your perseverance and heart. I felt very moved. You are an inspiration!!" I didn't really believe I was an inspiration, but within 5 minutes of finishing two people thought I was.
As I recovered in a medical tent getting attention for my ankles, I began to think about the monumental adventure I had just went through. As more time went on, I received congratulations from many people for the feat I had just accomplished. Suddenly I realized, I actually was something special. People were telling me I was an inspiration and a motivation for them to start doing something in there lives.
I saw my brother as an inspiration because of the dedication to the goal he set, the pain he went through in training and in performance, and the outcome of it all. Apparently people saw the same thing in me. Though I didn't feel like I was connecting to my brother in the moment, I was becoming more like him than I ever had before. Becoming more like my childhood idol wasn't easy, there was pain sweat and tears, but I made it. My brother was an inspiration, and I had become one too just like I've always wanted.
Friday, February 8, 2013
The View from the Sidelines
The person who came with me to my marathon posted an interesting and worth reading view of a marathon from a spectator.
http://michellemeanders.blogspot.com/2013/02/true-grit-surf-city-marathon-2013.html
Thanks to Michelle Bonja for including me!
http://michellemeanders.blogspot.com/2013/02/true-grit-surf-city-marathon-2013.html
Thanks to Michelle Bonja for including me!
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Marathon: a Crazy Journey
I've been wanting to run a marathon for a long time. Today I did such a thing. I have to say though, I didn't think I'd be in such a great amount of pain after.
I've been training (improperly) since last summer. I had the ambition, but no real knowledge of how to prepare for such a daunting task. I started running to my gym every day either before or after playing an hour or so of basketball or soccer. For a while, I thought it was working.
Later I received a plan/schedule from an experience marathon runner which had me running only 4 times a week with specific miles each week. With the running I did before this schedule, I thought I could definitely add miles here or cut a day there if I needed. This continued practically every month I trained.
Once November rolled around, I was given a new pair of shoes which were supposed to help me run better and longer. Little did I know, these shoes would lead to the extreme pain I felt while running the marathon this morning. The shoes I had, did not support my feet the way I need them to be. Unfortunately, I didn't realize this. The effect was this: I was training with shoes which were causing my feet to adjust to the lack of support, thus creating bad habits in my running while I trained. My lack of knowledge would prove painful even more so because I purchase two pairs of these shoes.
These bad habits were starting a pain pattern in my left ankle. I didn't know the shoes were the problem, so I put a brace on and just kept running. In early January, I went out for a run which was supposed to be the longest I had done up to that point. Halfway done, I felt the strongest ankle pain I had yet to feel during this training. Nearly 8 miles out, I now had the unfortunate burden of walking back to my apartment.
Flash forward three and a half weeks to today and the pain and discomfort with no running outside of playing a little bit of basketball (because honestly, my leg could be broken and I'd still play basketball haha, I LOVE IT!) remained.
With a terrible night's sleep because of the nervousness completely inside of me, I woke at 3:40 am and prepped to leave my hotel room. Packed and ready, I left to go pick up my girlfriend from her room so we could go to Denny's for a pre-run breakfast. Next we walk to a shuttle in the light of street lamps and bear the traffic of going down the road two miles in about 40 minutes to the start line.
I feel like I want to throw up from all the nervousness I am feeling. I try to remain calm, but my girlfriend is the one who helps keep me focused and encouraged. It was my first marathon, you couldn't tell looking into my eyes, but one look at my hands and you could see them shaking. I couldn't place my bib (my number for the race) on my shirt or the tracking device on my shoe because of the jerking in my hands. Time flies when you're tense. Its 6:30 and my waves starts in four minutes.
A kiss goodbye and I'm on my way. The ankle injury had completely thrown of my goal going into the race. Instead of the sub-4 hour goal I was attempting to train for, I was now aiming for something close to 5 hours, hopefully. So with a sore ankle, I kept an 11 minute mile, giving myself a few minutes insurance for my goal.
Somewhere between the 8th and 11th mile, a series of small hills set off a strong pain in my already injured right ankle and a subtle yet growing pain in my left. What I actually remember was after a brief visit from my girlfriend, I found myself in the need for a slower pace. My pride said no, but my ankle could barely handle any pressure.
For the 13th mile, I stopped passing up people and mostly watched as they passed me. First a barefoot guy, then an older man with a shirt whose shirt read: "You just got passed by a Great-Grandpa," and immediately my ego took a shot. I ran on and off till the 18th mile. That was when I began hurting so much, I had to walk! Fortunately, I had an angel appear who had been waiting for me. My girlfriend saw me in pain, and not a moment too soon. She rushed to my side and walked with me until I knew I needed to start running again.
Once I began running again, it only became harder as the pain grew from bad to worse. When it came to the 20th mile, my ankles were telling me they could no longer run. To me, speed walking was the new running, but I became worried that I might reach a time when I could no longer walk. That time did come at mile 22.
I thought to myself, "This isn't what was supposed to happen. It wasn't meant to be this way!" I trained, though improperly, hard the best I could to finish strong with a respectable time. But now I'm at the 22nd mile, well hydrated, full winded, yet unable move forward because of nearly unbearable pain in my ankles.
Walking was dreadfully painful, but there was 4 miles left, and as I stated in a previous post, I NEEDED TO finish.
Luckily, I found inspiration! The 20th mile is supposed to be "the wall" for all marathon runners. It is the time where you hit a place where it's suddenly harder than before to continue running. So because of this little tidbit, the people who put on the event posted inspirational quotes from (apparently) famous current and former marathon runners.
I found strength in the words, "Pain hurts, but eventually it doesn't hurt any worse!" This I learned was mostly true. Yes the pain didn't get worse, but no one wants to endure a very bad pain for a long period of time. But now there was only 3 miles left. I could endure...or so I thought.
It took one more piece of inspiration for me to realize I could fight the pain and run to the end. An older man was still running and eventually he made it to my side. He was slow, but he was steady. He had his own pace which he didn't divert from. I knew if this man could be running the entire time. I could finish the last few moments running through the pain.
Through the pain, I could see the finish line. About 50 feet away, I see my lovely lady run to me in her sweater and flip flops, grab my hand to hold me steady as my running/hobbling takes me across the finish line.
Yesterday I Google'd what to eat after a marathon, and I received a link from a "For Dummies" site. The first thing it said that people would want to do after a marathon is cry, throw up, lie on the ground and probably eat like crazy. When I crossed, I held on to my girlfriend so I wouldn't fall from the ankle pain and cried. A marathon is a crazy journey.
After taking a picture with my finisher's medal in front of the finish line, I left to the medical tent to check on the situation of my ankles. Here is where I learned my running technique was wrong, and the EMT could tell based on where the multiple blisters on my feet and after looking at my shoes. Apparently, the shoes matter more than I thought. But it didn't matter anymore. I was done. I finished.
I've been training (improperly) since last summer. I had the ambition, but no real knowledge of how to prepare for such a daunting task. I started running to my gym every day either before or after playing an hour or so of basketball or soccer. For a while, I thought it was working.
Later I received a plan/schedule from an experience marathon runner which had me running only 4 times a week with specific miles each week. With the running I did before this schedule, I thought I could definitely add miles here or cut a day there if I needed. This continued practically every month I trained.
Once November rolled around, I was given a new pair of shoes which were supposed to help me run better and longer. Little did I know, these shoes would lead to the extreme pain I felt while running the marathon this morning. The shoes I had, did not support my feet the way I need them to be. Unfortunately, I didn't realize this. The effect was this: I was training with shoes which were causing my feet to adjust to the lack of support, thus creating bad habits in my running while I trained. My lack of knowledge would prove painful even more so because I purchase two pairs of these shoes.
These bad habits were starting a pain pattern in my left ankle. I didn't know the shoes were the problem, so I put a brace on and just kept running. In early January, I went out for a run which was supposed to be the longest I had done up to that point. Halfway done, I felt the strongest ankle pain I had yet to feel during this training. Nearly 8 miles out, I now had the unfortunate burden of walking back to my apartment.
Flash forward three and a half weeks to today and the pain and discomfort with no running outside of playing a little bit of basketball (because honestly, my leg could be broken and I'd still play basketball haha, I LOVE IT!) remained.
With a terrible night's sleep because of the nervousness completely inside of me, I woke at 3:40 am and prepped to leave my hotel room. Packed and ready, I left to go pick up my girlfriend from her room so we could go to Denny's for a pre-run breakfast. Next we walk to a shuttle in the light of street lamps and bear the traffic of going down the road two miles in about 40 minutes to the start line.
I feel like I want to throw up from all the nervousness I am feeling. I try to remain calm, but my girlfriend is the one who helps keep me focused and encouraged. It was my first marathon, you couldn't tell looking into my eyes, but one look at my hands and you could see them shaking. I couldn't place my bib (my number for the race) on my shirt or the tracking device on my shoe because of the jerking in my hands. Time flies when you're tense. Its 6:30 and my waves starts in four minutes.
A kiss goodbye and I'm on my way. The ankle injury had completely thrown of my goal going into the race. Instead of the sub-4 hour goal I was attempting to train for, I was now aiming for something close to 5 hours, hopefully. So with a sore ankle, I kept an 11 minute mile, giving myself a few minutes insurance for my goal.
Somewhere between the 8th and 11th mile, a series of small hills set off a strong pain in my already injured right ankle and a subtle yet growing pain in my left. What I actually remember was after a brief visit from my girlfriend, I found myself in the need for a slower pace. My pride said no, but my ankle could barely handle any pressure.
For the 13th mile, I stopped passing up people and mostly watched as they passed me. First a barefoot guy, then an older man with a shirt whose shirt read: "You just got passed by a Great-Grandpa," and immediately my ego took a shot. I ran on and off till the 18th mile. That was when I began hurting so much, I had to walk! Fortunately, I had an angel appear who had been waiting for me. My girlfriend saw me in pain, and not a moment too soon. She rushed to my side and walked with me until I knew I needed to start running again.
Once I began running again, it only became harder as the pain grew from bad to worse. When it came to the 20th mile, my ankles were telling me they could no longer run. To me, speed walking was the new running, but I became worried that I might reach a time when I could no longer walk. That time did come at mile 22.
I thought to myself, "This isn't what was supposed to happen. It wasn't meant to be this way!" I trained, though improperly, hard the best I could to finish strong with a respectable time. But now I'm at the 22nd mile, well hydrated, full winded, yet unable move forward because of nearly unbearable pain in my ankles.
Walking was dreadfully painful, but there was 4 miles left, and as I stated in a previous post, I NEEDED TO finish.
Luckily, I found inspiration! The 20th mile is supposed to be "the wall" for all marathon runners. It is the time where you hit a place where it's suddenly harder than before to continue running. So because of this little tidbit, the people who put on the event posted inspirational quotes from (apparently) famous current and former marathon runners.
I found strength in the words, "Pain hurts, but eventually it doesn't hurt any worse!" This I learned was mostly true. Yes the pain didn't get worse, but no one wants to endure a very bad pain for a long period of time. But now there was only 3 miles left. I could endure...or so I thought.
It took one more piece of inspiration for me to realize I could fight the pain and run to the end. An older man was still running and eventually he made it to my side. He was slow, but he was steady. He had his own pace which he didn't divert from. I knew if this man could be running the entire time. I could finish the last few moments running through the pain.
Through the pain, I could see the finish line. About 50 feet away, I see my lovely lady run to me in her sweater and flip flops, grab my hand to hold me steady as my running/hobbling takes me across the finish line.
Yesterday I Google'd what to eat after a marathon, and I received a link from a "For Dummies" site. The first thing it said that people would want to do after a marathon is cry, throw up, lie on the ground and probably eat like crazy. When I crossed, I held on to my girlfriend so I wouldn't fall from the ankle pain and cried. A marathon is a crazy journey.
After taking a picture with my finisher's medal in front of the finish line, I left to the medical tent to check on the situation of my ankles. Here is where I learned my running technique was wrong, and the EMT could tell based on where the multiple blisters on my feet and after looking at my shoes. Apparently, the shoes matter more than I thought. But it didn't matter anymore. I was done. I finished.
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