A New Road

I used to be a runner. A marathoner. Running—in addition to being enjoyable exercise—was a metaphor for life. Now I’m a cyclist. And just as I saw deeper meaning in the act of running, so too in the transition to cycling.

Life means change.

We grow; we age. We’re healthy; we’re sick. Things work; things break. We hope; we hurt. We love; we hate. Chapters start; chapters end. We learn; we languish. Circumstances smile; circumstances stink. We’re joyful; we’re sorrowful. We’re born; we die. 

Is change the only constant?

As I wrote here, “Part of maturity is sacrifice. Part of maturity is transition. Part of maturity is change. Nothing lasts forever. Everything has a season.” Life means change. We may not want to surrender to it, but we may be forced to.

Guess what I discovered in this change?

As much as I loved running, I thoroughly enjoy cycling. I feel a bit like a kid again every time I start a ride or pedal as hard as I can to top a hill or race down the other side. It’s fun. There is joy in the new road. Of course, cycling is not life, but it shares lessons that apply to our greater life concerns.

How can we better handle change?

Have the funeral. Mourn your loss. Write the obit. Offer your eulogy. Seriously. Whether it’s a job change, relationship change, health change, ability change, or whatever. Mourn as fits your personality and situation. If it’s not coming back, then celebrate what it was and close the chapter. Go at your own pace, but engage the process. God made us to grieve. Grief serves a positive purpose.

Share the experience. Again, as it fits your personality and situation, invite family and friends and anyone else who can help or cares to listen into your change. Change is a common denominator of all people. You’ll be surprised how folks step up to contribute to your recovery if you let them in. Folks want to help, they just might be too shy to volunteer; give them an invite. We need one another. We’re always better together.

Get moving forward. I’m not a cyclist unless I get out there and cycle. What about you? You’re not truly alive unless you are out there living, right? Don't die before you take your last breath. Get moving. In your own time, pursue some new dream, new relationship, new you, new whatever. Get yourself moving forward to get yourself healthy. Life is change. Roll with it. Even down your new road.

Thanks for sharing the journey, Friends. If you haven't, please subscribe to continue along the way together. And, of course, share the story by clicking Share below. Thanks again!

Never

As you read in my last post, I was to have arthroscopic surgery to repair a cartilage tear and flap in my right knee. 

My doctor had stated,”We’ll know more once we get a look inside.” Even though a MRI offers great diagnostic ability, it’s not the same as seeing the real thing.

A few days ago I wrote, “I may not, however, ever run the same again.” That was then. This is now.

Surgery was quick; I woke up just about an hour after I’d been put under. Still woozy from the medicine, I don’t recall if my wife told me first, but I will never forget what my doctor had to say.

“Other than running around with your kids, you should never run again.”

Bam.

There it was.

Something that has been part of my life for a decade. Something that is part of my identity. Something that kept my physically healthy and mentally sane (at times). Something filled with such sweet memories. Something I enjoy just for the simple pleasure of propelling myself over space through time. Something I could never imagine not being. Is now something I will no longer be: a runner.

A friend wrote something like, “Once a runner, always a runner. No one can take that away.” Although the sentiment is kind, I think the best I can do now is “former runner” or “retired marathoner.” It’s a simple syllogism: Runners run. I can no longer run. Therefore, I am no longer a runner.

My doctor was surprised by what he found: forty plus pieces of floating cartilage in my joint; deterioration of every cartilage surface in my joint; even the flap that was to repaired had totally ripped off leaving a gapping finger nail sized hole to my femur. He cleaned it up. I’ll only have four weeks on crutches instead of eight; that’s good. But I’ll never run again.

Friends are kind with suggestions. Elliptical. No offense, but gag me. That’s fine for others, but it’s never been my thing; I love the outdoors. Swimming. Alright. Involves other muscle groups, nonimpact. But in Nebraska it’s mostly still indoors. Cycling. Yes. That’s where I’ll probably turn. I’ll enjoy learning new things, the distances, the training, the people, and the speed. All good, but still not running.

Again, as in my last post, Ever, I’m not whining. I’m a healthy guy who can no longer do what so many despise. It’s just running! But I’m a healthy guy who can no longer do one thing I love no matter what anyone else thinks. It’s running. I’m not whining. I’m coping.

Part of maturity is sacrifice. Part of maturity is transition. Part of maturity is change. Nothing lasts forever. Everything has a season. You deal with it. You suck it up. You adapt and overcome. You find a new normal. Doesn’t mean you have to like it. At least not a first.

Four marathons, each with their unique memories. Seven Market to Market Relays with a varied cast of characters making up my teammates. Adventure runs in travels to Colorado, Pennsylvania, Texas, San Francisco and Western Nebraska. A year’s worth of fun in running my neighbor’s spirited English Pointer. Countless daily runs around my part of town all alone and loving it; passing miles and thoughts and prayers.

Over 6000 miles. Over 900 hours. I am thankful. Most thankful.

I will never run again. Yet I will never regret that I did run. All that running gave me. All that running made me. Never.

Change

Years ago while serving a hundred plus year old small town church, I regularly said, "Change is not a four-letter word." If you have been or are in such a immobile institution, you know what I mean.

Some folks treat change like it is a curse word.

Or should that read... Most folks treat any change like it is a curse word?

The problem is that everything changes. Life is change. We can resist it. Yet it happens. We can complain about it. And feel worse. We may not like it. But we can not stop it.

Change—the acceptance of it—requires surrender. Surrender of the status quo. Surrender of comfort. Surrender of the ideal. Surrender of control. Surrender of you-name-why-you-don't-want-that-change.

There is brokeness in surrender. In that brokeness, humble before God within the circumstances He has allowed in your life, is where God can meet us. In fact, it may be where He can do His greatest work.

When using hard currency, we even refer to "breaking a bill" in order to "make change." Broken for change. Interesting.

Surrender. Brokeness. Change.

Life.

Questions

I tend to ask lots of questions.  And, yes, if you know me, you know that I have lots of answers as well.  In general, I talk plenty.  A lot.

But you also know that I am thoughtful.  I'm always trying to figure things out.  And, as a Christ follower, I wish that I could understand many things much better than I do.  I'd love to be able to live better, live different, more sin free, more pain free for me & others.

If I could only understand, then I could fix it.

Or at least try my best.

If I could only understand it, then I could accept it.

Well, maybe accept it better.

I look at the world around me.  Pain.  Injustice.  Problems. So much I wish I could change.

And more than just the nameless, faceless masses I look at the lives of those I love.  I see their distress.  I hear their pain. I feel their struggle.  I grieve their questions.

How.  How did this happen?  We'd like to know.  In order to understand.  To keep from making the same mistake again.  If that is possible.  Or simply to be satisfied with an answer.  Even if it still hurts.  At least we know how it happened.  We can understand.  Or we can assign blame.  The knowledge of how gives a small sense of control.

Why.  Why did this happen?  We always want to know.  It helps to have an explanation.  But sometimes there is not  one.  Or the one we get just seems so wrong.  Unjust.  Difficult.  Painful.  There is nothing wrong with the question why.  But - when faced with something that seems unanswerable or terribly difficult - it is not always the most productive question.

What.  For a Christ follower in the midst of difficulty the best question may be what.  Trusting God's sovereignty - that He either causes or allows all things that touch my life - I can ask how & why, but what may be the best question to move ahead. Specifically: What can I learn from this circumstance?  

It's a humble posture.  A learning posture.  A trusting posture.  A mind that is settled on the sovereignty of God. A heart that rests in the love of God.  A spirit that says something like this:

God, I believe you control all things.  Anything affecting my life you have either caused or allowed into my life.  Everything affecting my life you can use for your glory & my growth.  So, God, while I'm here, in the midst of this difficult circumstance, what would you have me learn?

Questions are many.  Answers may be few.  God is One.  Seek Him.

But if from there you seek the Lord your God, you will find him if you seek him with all your heart and with all your soul.  Deuteronomy 4:29

Who.  That's one more question.  And this who - the Ultimate Who - can provide an answer to every question.  If from there.  Wherever your there is.  Whatever circumstance.  Whatever trouble.  Seek Him.

Hoodie

About a year ago I found this old hoodie in the back of my closet.  Wrinkly with a stale hadn't been worn in forever smell, I pulled it down.  Memories came tumbling down with it.

The spring of 1985.  Nearing completion of ninth grade & my less than illustrious career at North Richland Junior High.  As freshmen, we were the big dogs of junior high & not the tadpoles of senior high. Spring football that year included shared practices at the high school that we were bused to.  And each of us were given Rebel football hoodies so we'd look the same on the field at Richland High School.  A proud moment it was, receiving this hoodie from Coach Staples.  You can still make out HOUSEHOLDER scrawled across it in permanent ink.

Since rediscovering it, I washed it & pull it out to wear around the house from time to time.  This morning as I was helping my six year old learning to read masterfully daughter, Mary Elizabeth, get her coat on she read it. 

"Ree-buhls.  Where'd that come from, Daddy?"

"Oh, Honey, I got this a long time ago.  Almost 26 years ago.  Before I went to high school."

"Wow, Daddy, you haven't grown much since then."

Melanie laughed out, "Haven't grown much?," looking at my slight 40-something belly.

"Well, Mary, Mama & Daddy are basically the same size as we were in high school.  Some things," motioning from my chest to tummy,  "may have just shifted around a little bit."

She flew out the door to the bus.  My mind tumbled.  Not about physical changes since high school, but real growth.  Maturity.

Personally, socially, spiritually.

How have I grown?

Where am I weak?

If I knew then what I do now, how would I have been different in high school?

Who would I have treated better?

How would my life be different as a result?

Most of you, Dear Readers, are not in high school anymore.

But.

You can still grow.

You can still change.

Take a moment & write a comment.

What do you wish you'd known or done differently growing up?

What do you need to, maybe as a result of reading this post, change today?