Who Will I Become on the Way to This Half Marathon?

I’ll run my first half marathon in June. It’s the Manitoba Marathon, a run my Grandpa did many times (both full and half). I have patchy memories of going to see him cross the finish line, so in my head I can already picture what that looks like.

For me, the idea struck when a relative announced that she was going to run/walk the Manitoba half. In fact, she was already training. My ire was piqued. What? She was going to run a half marathon before I was? She wasn’t even a runner! Cue googling ‘Half marathon training plans for beginners’, ogling the course map, and visualizing running into that stadium, where I’d seen my Grandpa cross the finish line many years ago. I felt a cascade of excitement.

I could do that–I could!

Allow me to confess that over the winter I’ve slacked off. I’ve run twice a week most weeks, since late November, in increasingly shorter lengths and slower times. My confidence was down, due to some really bad runs. I was ready to push my limits again, to chase again. I wanted to find out who I’d need to become in order to run the half.

So I downloaded a plan, and got started. And here’s what I know so far.

I Must Redeem All the Time I Can

I’ve pared my plan down to four workouts per week, since at the moment I just can’t do five. Still, that’s a heck of a lot more time than two runs per week. I came into training knowing:

• 1. My writing must not slack off. I’m about to publish again.
• 2. I can’t neglect my family and church community.
• 3. I can’t neglect my spiritual life. God must be in even my running.

So how do I do that? Well, I’m not sure yet. Last week involved training myself not to hit snooze, since that gives me 18 minutes more for morning prayers and scripture. This will become a habit… eventually. I have to plan meals (and cook meals) well in advance. I have to make a to-do list and squeak those chores into five and ten minutes chunks of time. I have to write blog posts in the waiting room at the doctor’s office (like this one!).

Efficiency will become my middle name.

Likewise, I need to maximize my rest and relaxation time. Resting is growing, waiting is training.

I Must Endure the Pain

“I’ve signed up for four months of chronic pain,” I whined to my Mom.

And I don’t know the half of it yet, I’ll wager. The last three weeks have been one long pain fest as my winter-softened muscles adapt to extra miles and a new strength training routine. I curse my third-floor, no elevator apartment. My family and coworkers are tired of hearing me complain about my sore muscles. After all, I did it to myself.

But it’s a good kind of sore.

And Why?

Because I want to know what it feels like to be that strong–physically and mentally. Yeah, I’m stressed and my legs, back, shoulders, and arms hurt. But the optimism and drive of having a huge goal is addictive.

Who will I become?

Not a Moment to Waste!

“I’m afraid to die before I’ve really lived,” he said.

Funny the things you talk about on late shifts.  We stood over our tank of coating suspension, the peristaltic pump chugging the soupy, white mixture from one tank to the other.  I don’t know why we were talking about death–death by drowning, death by fire.

I paused.  In my hand, the hose bucked and splattered goop on the shiny steel receiving tank.  “Yeah, I know what you mean.”  But in my head I thought, but how do you know that you’ve really lived?  As I thought over my twenty-four years, I realized that I’d packed lots into them.  I’ve travelled, I’ve graduated from college, I’ve written a book.  But had I really lived?

A couple weeks later, a school friend’s nineteen year old brother died in a drowning accident, and it brought the subject back to my mind.  My own brothers were going out to the lake, and inwardly I shouted don’t go!  I want to keep you here!

I suspect that the years we have are never enough once they’re gone.  I had twelve happy years with my Grandma (Mom’s mom) before she died of cancer.  But when I think about her I remember that, the last day I saw her healthy and alert, I spent playing video games.  Would that one more day have been enough?  No.

It annoys me that people say “Two more days until Friday.”  When I catch myself saying “My shift is half over,” I rebuke myself.  Heck, we spend tens of thousands of hours at our jobs, but we’re so eager to just get them over with.  My Grandma (Dad’s mom) told me, today, that the older you get, the faster they go.  It’s like being pinned to a railway car, flying downhill toward a brick wall (she didn’t say that–I did).  But we are unmindful.  We try to make our railcar go faster!

What are the chances we get to the end of our lives and decide we’ve ‘really lived’?

I’m realizing that I need to be a heck of a lot more deliberate with my time.  I’ve got to dream, then make goals, and then work my butt off before my railcar reaches the bottom of the hill.

Dan Waldschidmt said “We all want that extra 6.25 years of conquest.  But when we have a zillion minute by minute considerations just to decide whether to stay in bed or get up and ‘conquer,’ most of us choose comfort.  It seems small at the time–after all, it’s just one hour.  But the results are life changing.  Literally.  The decisions that you make hundreds of times a day build your future.  They all count.”

I’m not doing well in this area right now.  After the release of We are the Living, I hit a big-time slump.  I’ve yet to pull out entirely.  My blogging has been sporadic.  I have little interest in social networking.  I don’t feel like writing.  My new project has been neglected for days at a time.

It’s time to kick my own butt.  If I can make myself go running after an exhausting workday, when my knees hurt, or when it’s cold and raining, I guess I can make myself write (do what I love!).

There isn’t a moment to waste, is there?

 

Time Isn’t Cheap

“I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread,” said Bilbo Baggins. I don’t have the One Ring, but I think I know how he feels.

I feel I am, white-knuckled, on the very edge of life’s merry-go-round, about to be flung off. My plates are wobbling, my ducks are rebelling in their row.

It’s not that I’m complaining… exactly. I DID sign myself up for this–two jobs, plus a writing career, etc. I guess I just wish I could accept it, move past that frantic feeling and get down to business. I don’t have time to panic.

Funny thing: about a year ago my boss lectured me on becoming more efficient. If we had an ‘efficiency contest’ now, I’m damn sure I’d win. I know there are people who work far more hours than I and still get more done, but still, I pride myself in my time management. I can fit any task into the bite size pieces of time I have between work and work and work. I’m writing this on my phone on my lunch break. I’ll finish it on last break, and post it when I get home.

I’ve eliminated so much time waste from my life, but I still don’t have time.
I don’t want to be efficient. I want my time back.

Time is more valuable than money. You can replace a dollar, but you can’t replace time once it’s gone. Its a shame that we sell our time so cheaply. I sell my Saturdays for fifty bucks each. Fifty bucks! That’s almost volunteering. Yes, I do it to survive, but if I valued my time at it’s true price, would I leave it at that?

I’ve got no grand moral for this story. I’m just angry, just frustrated with how long it takes to get ahead. I will get ahead. I will! I just hope I can hold it together that long.

Post Script: I found this in my drafts today. I can’t remember why I didn’t post it–maybe because I was too pissed in the moment (not a good time just to throw your thoughts online). I think that this represents the tension between where we are and where we could be, and this is healthy–as long as it remains in proper perspective and we don’t give up. Here’s to following our dreams.
–Geralyn

Confession of a User

I just might be a user. Not a drug user–a people user. I’m concerned that I look at people with the attitude of what can they do for me? How can that person be my friend? How can they make me look good? Feel good? Can they help me with this task? How can this conversation aid my social media presence? Is that handsome guy a potential boyfriend?

I used to think I was people oriented, but if I were people oriented, I’d stop walking when someone talks to me instead of throwing a reply over my shoulder while I bee-line to my destination. If I were people oriented I wouldn’t have hidden at the other end of the McDonalds so a certain someone wouldn’t see me and want to talk. I had a blog post to finish, and I had to go to work, and…

So I’m task oriented. Not that task-orientation is a sin. The world needs us taskers, otherwise the factories would stand idle most of the time, the books would never be written, the dinner wouldn’t be done and no one would have clean underwear. But I need balance, and I need to recognize how truly valuable the people I walk past are. They aren’t a means to an end. In many cases, they ARE the end. They’re the patients who will take the antidepressants I made this afternoon and feel better. They’re the ones who will eat my dinner. They’re the ones who read my books and blogs. Now, they don’t wear my clean underwear… but I think you get the point. My tasks are for them, not me.

Two separate, parallel ideas set me on this train of thought. The first came from Kristen Lamb’s Rise of the Machines, a book on marketing through social media. The book is on my kindle and I can’t find the page, so I’ll summarize. She says that writers, in their desperation to market their books, forget to meet people where they are, with what they enjoy and concerns them. We need to see people, not as potential readers, but as people. She talked about how a post on Facebook had caught her eye—a new mom begging for prayer as her baby struggled to survive. Kristen offered support and encouragement, and now that the baby is healthy, continues to connect over baby pictures.

That’s not trying to force a book down someone’s throat. Not by a long shot. That’s genuine care and interest. I was convicted.

The second was in a post about dating from J.S. Park’s blog. He said: “A lot of this random ‘crushing’ is from our culture of ‘what can you do for me?’—which leads to objectification and dehumanization… When you practice the disciplined art of being friends with the opposite gender, you’ll find a love for them that does NOT regard their physical appearance or ‘dating material’ level.”

Oooh, conviction again.

I’m feeling caught in the balance between working hard and valuing the people who are in front of me—my coworkers, my family. Mostly I just work hard. I’ve seen the opposite too—people who stand around visiting at work, never getting things done, wasting their employer’s time and money. But I don’t think there needs to be a dichotomy like that.  And sitting alone in McDonalds, posting to my blog get’s old fast.  I’m doing it right now, and feeling kinda bummed.

I doubt there’s an easy answer or a quick fix. For the moment, I’m thinking of making it a task for myself. To do: slow down and value people.

Too cold?

Read the post by J.S. Parks. “To Love Without Idolizing A Relationship–A Mega Post on Dating and Really Bad Advice”

A Year is a Lot of Time to Waste

I’m afraid of commitment, so I don’t make New Years resolutions.  I do make resolutions, but not New Years ones.  A year is a long, long time after all, and six months in I might change my mind.  Making a decision?  Oh, not me.  Do you know how long it takes me to pick out a bag of chips?  I mean, what if there’s a better flavour?  What if I change my mind?

But I am a planner.  I make one month plans, I make one week plans.  And now I feel the need to make a one year plan.  “Like New Year’s resolutions?” my coworker asked, when I told her this.

“No.  Well… yes.  No.  It’s different.”  I mean, it’s a plan, not a wish, right?  That’s different, right?

I’ve got a whole list of plans by now, and the whole things scares the pants off of me when I think about it, which means I can’t think about it right now because I’m in public.  I guess I’ll chance it.  Maybe the boots will keep the pants in place.

I have financial goals–pay off my car, for instance.  I have health goals–losing weight, of course.  I mean, it was working before Christmas, it should work now.  I have writing goals–a stack of them.  I plan to publish for the first time in 2014, and this scares me even more than my list of goals.  I also have a goal of how many books I want to read, and on what subjects.  And, best of all, my sister and I have planned a trip for the summer when the plant shuts down.

I’ve heard it said that “Most people overestimate what they can do in a year, but they wildly underestimate what they can do in ten years”.  And I suspect this may translate into months as well.  What could I accomplish in twelve months if I deliberately planned this out?  When I began writing a to-do list for the week, it was because I was tired of forgetting things.  In one year, you can forget a lot.  I don’t want to forget the things that were important at the beginning of the year.  I don’t want a year to go by haphazardly, because time is the most important resource I have.  I don’t want my money to go to the wind, because I spend far too much time to get it.  I don’t want to finish another year without progress in my fitness, because after a few of those years I’ll wish I’d taken better care of myself.  I want to finish the year with better relationships, and new ones.

I want to thrive in 2014.

2013 was a hard year, and I’ve come through with scars on my body and on my heart.  I am sorry for the bitterness that has taken root in my soul, and for the spiritual complacency that I see in myself.  I’m sorry it was necessary to spend so much of my year at work, because it seems to have strained my relationship with my family.  I’m sorry I spent so much money on myself.  I wish I’d saved it, or spent it on others.

I don’t want 2014 to end like that.

And so, I resolve to plan.  I guess I’ll finish the plan tomorrow.  Yeah, tomorrow. 

Warning: Life in Progress

(Written at 12:30 last night)

I hit the wall tonight. Maybe it was triggered when I took apart my coating machine, cleaned it and put it together again only to have it not work. Six hours of work down the drain. Perhaps it was the politicking of my coworkers. Or, maybe I’m just tired. But I took a nosedive.  Energy: gone.  Tear ducts: primed and ready.

I’ve been flying high for a few weeks now—working hard, making changes, learning, and having fun. But today I read my sheet of goals, looked at my bank records, saw the year ticking away, and realized that I was no where near where I wanted to be.

Keeping score on myself sucks.

Before I kept score I thought I was doing pretty good—above average for sure, Maybe even great. And now I’m horrible.

I’m nowhere near hitting my goals for the month. I don’t know what I was thinking when I set them—obviously I didn’t think I was going to plateau/get stuck on almost EVERYTHING.

And who decided I should set a budget? Damn it, I’m going to keep this budget if it kills me, and it just might. I had no idea I was wasting so much money!

There isn’t enough time to read all the books I want to read AND write AND network on social media AND keep up the housework (though I wouldn’t mind letting that go…).

I’m eating healthier but I’m still fat. I’m saving money but I still can’t afford a car, and winter is coming fast–can’t ride the bike then, not in Manitoba.  I’m improving at my job, but I’m still a long way from competency. I might have been able to catch the mechanical error tonight, but I wasn’t confident in what I was doing.

Well, I DON’T give up.

By the grace of God, tomorrow will be a new day. I am reminded that, first, it has always been in my lowest moments that God has provided for me in the biggest ways. This isn’t the first time I’ve thought I was a lost cause. Second, I don’t have to get my life together immediately. It would be rather nauseating for y’all if I did.

This life is a work in progress. Have I done my best? YES. I have never done better than now. Well, then there is no more to ask of myself. It’s probably time to take a break, relax and rest up.  So, with that, I’m going to bed.

My iPhone is Ruining My Life!

I’ve only owned an iPhone for three weeks and I’m already an addict. Case in point, last night I lay in bed for an hour, watching YouTube videos (and this after I professed to be exhausted). After an hour had passed, my mind got that gross feeling that you get from eating too much candy. Just… ick. All of it was time down the drain.

I bought the iPhone to assist me in in blogging, since keeping up with my social media was becoming too big of a chore without constant Internet access. To be fair, it’s accomplished most of that purpose. But I’ve found myself reading less from actual, quality books and writing less—two passions of mine.

My phone has wasted so much time!

Correction: I’ve wasted so much time—me, not the phone. I can’t make excuses. It’s my lack of discipline that has turned my iPhone against me. I used to scoff at the people who sat around on break playing games on their phone, and now here I am doing the equivalent.

I’ve become what I hate!

So, this morning I deleted the YouTube app. Then I made up for the hour of garbage by listening to a podcast by Ravi Zacharias and a LIFE Leadership audio.

The iPhone is a double-edged sword, a portal to all sorts of possibilities. It can be used for YouTube, mindless surfing, compulsive, narcissistic social media, or addictive gaming. On the other hand, it is a business in a small box: my one-touch access to my blog, social network, email, banking and communication. It is my “portable university,” which grants me access to experts on all topics (Ravi Zacharias, Mark Driscoll and the British History podcast among them). My phone may be the single most powerful tool I own, and I was just letting it slip away.

So, here’s my resolution to use my phone for my life-purpose, not for dissipation. After all, with a great phone comes great responsibility.

What one app, if you deleted it, would save you the most time?  Let me know in the comment section below.

What Algebra Taught Me (and I don’t mean math)

Motivation doesn’t generally start in tenth grade Algebra. The word Algebra doesn’t reek of motivational powers, if you know what I mean. But, that is where I learned an effective way of lighting a fire under my seat: prizes.

Yes, prizes. Lemme ‘splain.

I was homeschooled, so by nature all my schoolwork was homework. Math homework was a three to four hour process every day. I wasn’t that great at it, and by the time the second hour rolled around my brain was shot and my tear ducts were working overtime. My Mom, in an attempt to keep sane and keep her daughter on the path to academic success, suggested a concept she’d read about. It was called ‘sprints’—breaking up a task into shorter bits and assigning a time limit to them. For instance, I had one hour to complete ten math problems. To create more motivation, she encouraged me to add a ‘prize’ for winning or a ‘punishment’ for losing. For instance, Mom recalls that one day I missed a goal so I had to drink nothing but water for the rest of the day. I also bribed myself with canned drinks—an hour for ten problems, and then a canned drink to enjoy while I finished the rest. Turns out, I’m a five-year-old when it comes to motivation.

It seems rather silly—using prizes or punishments to motivate myself—but it was quite effective, and I still use that method today. For the last two months I’ve been setting time goals for my writing. I must write eight hours every week. On my weekly to-do list I draw sixteen circles representing half-hour intervals and fill them in as I accomplish them. And every week I set a prize for myself.

If that week I’m craving ice cream, or I want to rent a season of TV shows, or I want a pair of earrings, I don’t buy them. Rather, I say ‘okay, if I succeed in writing eight hours, I’ll rent Sherlock’. If I don’t meet the goal, I don’t get the prize. And that’s happened quite a few times. Its an effective money saving tool too.

Last week I tried on a cute shirt off a sale rack at work, but I didn’t buy it. I put it on hold. I wrote this post to finish off my last half hour for my writing goal. The previous morning I still had five hours to write–it had been a busy week, and my family was spending the weekend at the lake. But, once they went to bed, I stayed up past midnight writing, and then wrote in the vehicle on the way home from the cabin. I wanted that shirt.

I can’t make winning too easy on myself. This week I changed it up, and set a ‘prize goal’ on two fitness goals for the week. If I meet them both, I get the prize.

I also don’t set prize goals on everything. That would be far too expensive, since I set weekly goals in three or four different categories of my life, and monthly goals in eight different categories.

I’m sure this method wouldn’t motivate everyone; I’m just throwing out an idea. The point is to find something that drives you toward your goals and dreams.

I’ve heard it said that people won’t lift a finger for their dreams, but they’ll work hard if they get to play laser tag. I guess sometimes the overarching goal is just too big. The task has to be broken down into bites, each with its own motivation. I learned that from Algebra.

Can I be Still?

Monday is goal-setting day for me.  List writing day.

It’s an efficiency thing for me.  I’m a scatterbrain and, thus, if I do not write down what I need to accomplish I don’t get much done.  So every Monday at breakfast I write down the to-do list for the week.

Clean the bathroom.  Post to blog/Facebook/Twitter.  Make dentist appointment.

Then there are the goals–write 8 hours a week (laugh if you want, but that’s hard for me), eat 5 fruits and veggies each day, exercise three hours.  These are accompanied by little circles or boxes that can be checked off to show how much I’ve done.  These are matched up against my monthly goals–writing word count, fitness goals, financial goals, books to read, etc.

Well, yesterday I didn’t have time at breakfast to write my list.  I recently started a new job, and my world is in shambles.  My schedule is in uproar.  I’m learning new things. I’m meeting new people.  By the time I get home my brain is tired.  Oh, and then I turn around and go to my other job.

I’m not an overachiever, I’m just poor.

I know that some people are far more busy than me.  I know.  But right now I feel like I’m up to my neck.  I could push myself to be more efficient, and I will, but…  On Sunday I was challenged to learn to be still and silent–to take time to get away from my tasks and be quiet.  How counterintuitive!  How ridiculous!  I am BUSY here!

But, as I was told, love and busyness are incompatible.  How do you build a relationship in a hurry?  How do you build a masterpiece in a hurry?  And that is what I am seeking to do: to love God and to build my life into a masterpiece.

So, here is the challenge that went onto my to-do list (once I wrote it, on break at work).  I will be still and silent for 10 minutes every day.  I will take time to just be.  And y’know… I think it might be what saves my sanity, and what gives me the strength to plug away at the to-do list.

I challenge you to do the same thing:  take ten minutes to sit, drink coffee, think, meditate, or pray.  Let me know what happens.  And, if you have any books or articles on the subject you think I’d find helpful, please comment.