Journal entry 100611: XFD 1048576

One day this week, Tuesday, actually, I was working on a wellbore diagram in Excel when I hit “End {right}” and found myself in column XFD. I’ve done that many times before, but for some reason it was a bit spooky this time. Looking at my computer screen past that last column … was nothingness, just gray. 

Being a 21^st-Century guy, I tweeted about my experience immediately. I wrote, “Whenever I cursor to the last column in an Excel spreadsheet, XFD, it feels like I am peering past the edge of the known universe. Scary.”

Clark asked, “Why did Excel stop at XFD and 1048576? Was it some sort of magic formula?”

“Maybe we should ask Cory (the high school physics teacher) if those are actually important coordinates. Where space begins to curve back on itself, for example.” And the conversation was launched …

“Beyond XFD, there be dragons.”

Cory wrote, “I don’t think it would be curved as much as it would be folded into multilayered quadrants representing opposing values.”

“I thought that the values actually represented the inner dimensions of Mary Poppins’ bag …”

“If you look closely, you’ll see Reepicheep over there.”

“So with the current number of cells at the given dimension we have only ¼ of one two-dimensional coordinate system in an infinite number of radians about a cylindrical axis.” (I think he made that up.)

“How many columns are there? I’m not very good at base-26 math?”

“I calculated the number of columns and came up with the 16,384. So there are 1.71799e10 cells in total.”

“On the flip side, wouldn’t XFD 1048576 be a really cool name for a nerd rock band?”

“Maybe it would be a good custom license plate for the guitar player for U2.”

“I should feel safe going to the edge. All it takes is “CTRL HOME” and you are back to cell A1.”

OK, that’s enough of that. But for some reason, the notion of peering over the edge stayed in my mind for three days. I kept thinking about how scary it can be to peek over the edge. I kept thinking about how energizing it can be to peek over the edge.

I thought about one of the coolest destinations in the Guadalupe Mountains: Bush Mountain. It’s round and flat on top, so hard to know where the actual summit is, but you can sit on the cliff edge and hang your legs over the Western Escarpment and consider the meaning of infinity. While it’s not a knife-edged cliff, it is a 3,000’ drop, and severe enough to take your breath away.

I also thought about the two times God took Moses up on a mountaintop to give him a peak over the edge. The first time was when God gave Moses the Ten Commandments and the Law, allowing him to see what a life of obedience and faith would look like going forward. The second time was at the end of Moses’ life when God took him up to the top of a mountain to show him the Promised Land. God allowed Moses to see over the edge into the future, to know that he was released from his duties, that he could finally relax and come on home.

I remembered another Bible story, when God told Abram to go exploring, to go out to the edges, and see how big His blessing really was. God said, “Lift up your eyes from where you are and look north and south, east and west. All the land that you see I will give to you … Go, walk through the length and breadth of the land, for I am giving it to you.” (Genesis 13)

Some years ago, when we were reading the Prayer of Jabez, Cyndi told me, “You can’t know how big your boundaries are until you walk all the way to the edges. You can’t know the limits of God’s blessings until you push out to the fence lines.”

She said, “I wonder how often we settle for a small portion of what God has for us, thinking we have it all, because we stopped exploring too soon. We don’t know where the boundary is until we walk up to the fence. Don’t stop too soon.”

Well, I don’t know what else to say about this. I’m pretty sure God didn’t intentionally hide any messages in Excel, except that He is everywhere, and in everything, and always calling out to us to come join Him. I pray that you will hear God calling you out to the edges, all the way to the fence lines, to give you a bigger glimpse of what life with Him can be.

But you’ve got to be brave. And don’t stop too soon.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

To learn about Berry’s books, “Running With God,” go to www.runningwithgodonline.com , or “Retreating With God,” go to www.retreatingwithgod.com ,… Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson or on Facebook … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 093011: A change of heart

It wasn’t the first time I prayed this prayer - the one asking God to change my heart. The first time of record would be in Spring 1980. But the resulting change from this particular round of praying was one of the most dramatic. I went back to work for someone else and I am happy about it. Who expected that?

I have been self-employed since 2004, and while I loved the freedom, the structure, the self-dependence, the adventure, and I certainly wasn’t looking forward to giving that up, I realized I had pretty much exhausted the opportunities available to my particular skillset. I knew a year ago I should make a change and consider re-entering the workforce. In fact, I promised Cyndi back in February that I would find something this calendar year.

One reason I was willing was because I wanted to improve our cash flow and to make Cyndi’s impending retirement less scary for her. She says most women worry about finances as often as most men think about sex. Well, that can be a lot. I was willing to go back to work so Cyndi wouldn’t be as nervous.

I also wanted to be able to help my parents financially as we go through their life transition of moving from completely independent living in Hobbs, NM, to a more assisted arrangement here in Midland. They certainly invested a lot in me through the years, and I look forward to returning the favor.

I suppose I also sensed it was time for a fundamental change in my daily life, as in adding more structure and discipline and all that, but I never would’ve said that out loud to anyone.

I knew that going back to work was the right thing to do, the grown-up thing to do, but I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t feel good about it at all. I didn’t want to spend my days sitting in someone else’s office at someone else’s desk on someone else’s schedule pouring over someone’s else’s projects following someone else’s procedures, all at the expense of my own heart. It sounded awful every time I considered it, and I was afraid if I did it I would end up a bitter and resentful old man. For the last ten years my heart has leaned into writing and teaching and I was afraid that going back to work for someone else would squash my efforts. How could I continue to teach other men about calling and purpose if I didn’t follow my own?

So my prayer all last spring and summer was, “God, this appears to be the right thing to do but it churns my stomach just thinking about it. I’m asking You to change my heart.”

And then this summer an unpredicted opportunity came up out of a conversation I wasn’t even part of, between my friend Brent and a new resident in our neighborhood, Ken, who happens to be an engineering manager with Apache Corporation, a large independent oil and gas producer. The next thing I knew I was mailing a resume and interviewing for a consulting engineering position. More surprisingly, I was happy about it. I considered it a fun opportunity to learn new things and meet new people and enlarge my circle. I was a changed man.

I started working in Apache’s office in Midland three weeks ago, on Monday, September 12^th.

One day last week, over a Texas Burger, Mark asked if I had figured out how to squeeze in time to write, and I said, “I’m not sure, yet. I decided if God had brought this job opportunity I had to relax and expect Him to help me work out the rest of my schedule.”

Apparently I haven’t always lived that way, so loose with my plans and all, because Mark grinned at me and said, “Is this my friend Berry Simpson I’m talking to?”

In fact, I’ve enjoyed my brief three weeks at Apache. I like the people I’m working with and the work environment in their office, and I’m looking forward to an extended stay.

But I’m a different man than I was only six months ago. My heart has changed. It has God’s fingerprints all over it where He gently molded it into this new shape, so subtly I never noticed it happening on the fly.

It’s somewhat risky writing about answered prayer, though. What if this doesn’t work out? What if circumstances change? What if Apache decides having an old silverback engineer lurking around their well files is no longer in their best interests? What if I claim this as answered prayer only to see it disintegrate? I don’t want to embarrass God by having to issue a retraction.

However, it isn’t really this particular job that I’m most excited about, it’s the change in my own heart - subtle on the outside, huge on the inside, and more than obvious to me. Like I said in the opening, this isn’t the first time I’ve prayed for this, and it isn’t the first time God has changed my heart.

I hope you’ll pray this prayer the next time you have to do something you don’t want to do, or when you have a looming confrontation on your horizon. Maybe that’s one of the keys to being content in all things, allowing God to change your heart.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

To learn about Berry’s books, “Running With God,” go to www.runningwithgodonline.com , or “Retreating With God,” go to www.retreatingwithgod.com ,… Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson or on Facebook … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 092211: Who are you?

Clark’s question was, “When did you first identify yourself as a writer?” I was a guest in his freshman composition class to talk about the practice of writing, techniques, editing, and all that. It was fun and I enjoy talking about it - mainly because talking about it demands I think about it. And thinking about it makes me better.

The question was harder to answer than it first appeared. The difference between saying “I like to write” and “I am a writer” is huge, and it reaches down to the very core of identity and perception and who I hope to be.

The first time I considered myself a writer was standing in B. Dalton Booksellers at the Midland Park Mall and choosing Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. It seemed like a big step forward to spend money on a specialized book like that, a commitment to practice and improve. That was 1993. It took another 20 years before I was brave enough to say out loud to strangers: I am a writer.

How do you introduce yourself? Once you get past family and career? What is your identity? Do you say “I am a writer” or “I am a gardener” or “I am a quantum theorist” with ease?

I remember when I used to hand people notes so they could introduce me before I gave a speech, back in my government days; it was a long time before I would change my notes from “loves to run marathons” to saying “I am a marathon runner.” And that was after I’d run five or six marathons. The first label was about a hobby, the second was about identity. I figured a listener couldn’t judge me because I loved to run marathons, except to think I was crazy; but if I claimed to be a marathoner, well any listener could look me up and down and ask about my finish times and say, “No you aren’t.”

This conversation surfaced again when Cory noticed that I had not updated my Twitter profile to include “Cyclist.” Well, I made the change as soon he reminded me; I had meant to add it but forgot to get around to it.

Cory tweeted, “What is the criteria to claim it? Do we have to go through hazing, pledging, or rites of passage?” I mentioned something Dr. George Sheehan once wrote - that the difference between a jogger and a runner is an entry form. In other words, if you sign up for a race and commit to it, and run the race, you are a runner regardless of how fast or slow, lean or fat, young or old. The entry form is the threshold. Of course, a race entry is just a piece of paper, but its value is the commitment to train and willingness to succeed or fail in public.

So I told Cory, we all rode the 50K Roll for the Cure in Hobbs, NM, so we are cyclists.

Cory wrote, “This may be the first time I have claimed anything athletic to describe myself publicly.” I should add that Cory rides very well and has left the rest of us behind more than a few times. He’s earned the title: cyclist.

Maybe our hesitancy to identify with a particular label is because we think we aren’t good enough yet. Or that it isn’t the sort of thing you can claim about yourself. As in, you can’t claim yourself to be humble, or strong of character. Someone else has to hang that on you.

Or maybe we need to have evidence of identity beyond a personal claim. If I say I am a marathon runner, well I have nine finisher medals to back it up. Cyclist, a race number. Backpacker, I have the wear-and-tear of a dozen trips into the Guadalupe Mountains on my backpack. Teacher, I have 20 years of notes. Engineer, I have a university degree.

But writing? That took a while to accumulate. Now I have a dozen notebooks filled with my own thoughts, Journal Entries published weekly since 1998, two books, readers across the USA and around the world. And I recently learned about a running group in Memphis who are training together and using my book, Running With God, for their pre-run devotionals. I should be satisfied with all that.

And actually, it doesn’t take all that. You are a writer if you write. Too many people wish they had written already, or plan to start someday when they have time. You are a marathon runner because you’ve run one. Lots of people wish they had a marathon finish on their resume, but haven’t gotten around to running one yet. We are, because we do. What we do, is identity.

Are there things you do regularly but are hesitant to claim as an identity? What are they? Maybe it’s time to embrace what you do - step further up and further in to who you are.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

To learn about Berry’s books, “Running With God,” go to www.runningwithgodonline.com , or “Retreating With God,” go to www.retreatingwithgod.com ,… Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson or on Facebook … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 091511: 30-Day Challenge

September is a great time to start something new. The energy from the beginning of the school year is contagious even if you haven’t been in school in decades. And the change in weather stirs up hope. Last week I ran twice in the 70s, after months of 100+, and it made me happy. This week the temperature climbed back up to 100, but even that was more hopeful than 100 in July

I’ve already made one big September change in my life; I reentered the workforce as a contract engineer for a large independent oil and gas producer, the first time I’ve worked regularly for someone else since 2004. I’m even wearing Dockers every day instead of my favorite jeans, and tucking my shirt in.

And if that isn’t enough, I’m considering more changes since listening to a TED Talk by Matt Cutts, search engine optimization guru for Google. He encouraged his listeners to try something new for 30 days: “Try something you’ve always wanted to add to your life but were afraid of the long-term commitment.”

He gave himself a different 30-day challenge, back-to-back, for one entire year, and blogged about his experiences. One of his challenges was “30 days of being thankful.” What a great idea! He also decided to: learn 30 new words; write a 50,000-word novel (he finished it, but says it’s awful); take a photo every day; and meditate every day.

After all that work he learned a lot about how to make this project more likely to succeed. For example, don’t make your challenge too exotic or difficult. Simply try something you’ve always wanted to try but didn’t have the time or courage to sustain it over the long haul but might be able to push through 30 days. Consider this to be a series of 30-day experiments, and start with an easy one. Some will work, some will stick, and some won’t.

Cutts says, “It’s easier to add a new habit than to remove a habit, so don’t begin with a challenge to stop doing something. And remember, “small sustainable changes are best.”

Well, as you might imagine, I could not listen to a talk about 30-day challenges without deciding to give it a try. At first I thought it might be a good idea to ask other people what I should do … maybe even ask Cyndi. But most of us won’t stick to something new for 30 days because someone else wants us to or because someone else thinks we need it. I certainly won’t. I think a good 30-day challenge has to come from yourself.

However, it’s still a good idea to ask for suggestions, if for no other reason than to move your thinking outside your box.

It’s a good idea to tell people what you are doing, for encouragement, and for accountability. But only tell people who will help and encourage you, not people who will make fun of you.

Here are some more suggestions from Matt Cutt’s blog, with a couple of additions of my own:

Be thankful about something every day

Ride your bicycle to work every day

Run 5 miles every day

Read the Bible through in 30 days

Pray every day

No sugar for 30 days

Learn one new word every day

Take a photo every day

Eat vegan for 30 days

Eat on <$10.00 per day for 30 days

No TV or radio
No eating after 8:00 PM

No computer after 8:00 PM (or 10:00 PM?)

No soft drinks

Get up at 5:00 AM every day

Do 100 sit-ups every day

Do 100 push-ups every day

Cycle 10 miles or more every day

Write 1,000 words in your journal every day

Write a note to someone you love every day

Write a letter to friends or family every day

Fast for 30 days

Write a thank you note every day

Complete one home project every day

Draw a sketch every day

Don’t complain for 30 days

Write in a blog every day

I intend to pick something from this list and get started. Maybe you have some additional suggestions. Even better, maybe you will commit to joining me in doing a challenge or two. It will be fun to share our stories. And 30 days might lead to a lifetime. Who knows what sort of people we might become.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

To learn about Berry’s books, “Running With God,” go to www.runningwithgodonline.com , or “Retreating With God,” go to www.retreatingwithgod.com ,… Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson or on Facebook … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 090811: Gifts

Friday morning I peeled myself from my bicycle seat after an unexpected 50-mile ride, happy to learn I could still walk, and my first thought was actually a prayer - “Thank You God. That ride was a gift.” More often my thoughts after a physically exhausting effort have been, “Thank You for helping me to survive.” That is NOT the same prayer as, “Thank You for speaking into my heart in spite of the exhaustion.”

It wasn’t my first time to feel that way. It’s happened several times before; in my case, usually after completing an epic run.

Once when I was at Frontier Ranch Young Life Camp in Colorado at a Wild at Heart men’s retreat, after an especially eye-opening spiritual breakthrough, I went for a 1-1/2 hour run on the Colorado Trail. The run turned out to be easier and faster than it should have at 9,500’ elevation, and I knew immediately that the ease, success, even delight, was God’s gift to me.

Afterward I stood in the shower as hot water renewed my humanity and prayed - “Thank You for this gift. It was exactly what I needed.” I interpreted the excellent run as a confirmation that I had interpreted the spiritual insight correctly. I had been healed.

I also remember one rainy Monday night when I left the house for a long run at sundown, and finished up 20 miles after midnight. It was great. Running in darkness reduced the distractions and focused my vision to the path immediately ahead of me, like I was running in a cocoon. When I got home I was so full of myself it took me another two hours to calm down enough to sleep - not from the adrenaline, but because I knew, again, that this was a gift from God. It was a reminder that I could do more than I imagine, that I was mighty in spirit, and full of heart. I am not sure if it’s appropriate to beat your chest and howl at the moon during a prayer, but that is the sort of praying I was doing that night.

I felt the same way Friday morning when I got off my bike. I felt blessed.

This particular gift actually started about a year ago when I returned to cycling after a 20-year hiatus. Since then I’ve been riding 2 or 3 times each week. And then, last week, I had an opportunity to buy a road bike, a 2010 Specialized Tarmac Elite, and I was so happy. All the way home after buying the bike I prayed, “Thank You for this gift”.

And even more than the bike itself was what Cyndi did … she made it a point to write a check and pay for the bike from her own checking account. She said, “I know it all comes from the same pile of money, but I want you to know I believe in you.”

Oh man; that was the biggest gift of all: an endorsement. Cyndi was telling me that she understood the value cycling had added to my life, and that she didn’t resent my time away on my bike. I felt like Cinderella Man when his wife said, “You’re the Bulldog of Bergen, and the Pride of New Jersey, you’re everybody’s hope, and the kid’s hero, and you are the champion of my heart.”

So Friday morning was the first extended ride on my new bike. I went out with Todd, Kara, and David, who are all better cyclists than me. I was enjoying my new bike so much I ignored all the opportunities to turn back and shorten the ride. (Before I left, when Cyndi asked, “Don’t they all ride further than you do?” I said, “They aren’t going anywhere I don’t know the way home from. I can short-cut back if I need to.) But I didn’t take any short-cuts, and by the time I got home I had ridden 50 miles, 16 miles further than, as Kevin would say, my previous highest score. I was tired and wasted and glad to be done, but my heart was full. I knew the entire morning was a gift from God.

However, I’ll admit that when I stagger off my bike or collapse on the bedroom floor after running, a casual observer might not consider the word “gift” as their first description. I can’t adequately explain how a difficult run or brutal hike up the mountain or endless bike ride can be a gift from God. Quite often, it isn’t; but sometimes it is.

The best way I can describe it is to compare it to a favorite birthday gift from someone you love, that gift that is so personal it proves the giver knew your heart. Those are seldom the most expensive of the gifts, just the best.

A similar story happened to another cycling friend recently. He was working through a life-changing career decision when he had the best long bike ride of his life. I suggested, “Maybe that was God telling you to follow your heart; His gift to you.”

When God speaks into a hard effort and fills our heart with thanks, that is a definitive and specific and best gift. Has this ever happened to you? How did it happen? How did you know it was a gift from Him? I would like to know your story.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

To learn about Berry’s books, “Running With God,” go to www.runningwithgodonline.com , or “Retreating With God,” go to www.retreatingwithgod.com ,… Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson or on Facebook … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 090111: Better stuff

I wonder if everything is better than it used to be is the question I asked myself this past weekend. We were taking care of Madden, our 18-month-old granddaughter, who spent the weekend with us. I played with her most of Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, so I had a lot of time to ponder this curious topic.

We had a great visit, even better than I’d anticipated. We don’t get to be around Madden as often as   we’d like since we live 315.1 miles apart, so I was worried she might not warm up to us. No problem. She took to us as if we’d hung out together every day. We played in the swimming pool and on the playground slides, she bossed me around and told me which chair to sit in, and we had a great time.

One thing I noticed that’s changed since we had a couple of 18-month-old children of our own once (the last was in 1984), was how much better baby gear has become. For one thing, strollers are much better. Not only are they safer and maneuver better, they are more robust. You can pile lots of gear on top without crushing the baby or tipping over.

And car seats are better, too. Although I wondered about the 5-point racing harness I had to fasten and unfasten over and over, it was still better than the car seats of the 1980s. Cyndi reminded me that both of our kids could climb out of their car seats when they were this age.

Even pacifiers are better, except that all the young moms now call them binkies. I don’t know when that terminology started, but it is universal. The pacifier/binky itself hasn’t changed all that much, but the addition of a clip-on strap to keep it from falling to the floor is a significant improvement. Why didn’t we think of doing that 20 years ago?

And portable baby beds are much better. We have a Pack ‘n Play, and it folds up to 1’x1’x4’ bundle and goes straight to the attic when we aren’t using it. It is wonderful. The Pack ‘n Play was something Cyndi brought home about five years ago along with a whole carload of baby stuff she found at a garage sale. I asked, “Do you have something to tell me, Sarah?” Cyndi said she was just planning ahead for friends or grandchildren. Whew.

I guess the last thing that is much better than it used to be is something not exclusive to babies or baby gear. It is taking pictures. We took pictures when we had our own babies, of course, but we were choosy about what we shot since the film cost money and developing cost money, and you didn’t even know if you’d like the pictures until you spent your money first. And quite often we didn’t have a camera with us.

Now, we all have cameras in our pocket, and we can take indiscriminate pictures of anything and everything, by the hundreds, spontaneous and surprising. Photography is better now.

However, there are some things that haven’t changed at all. Baby spoons are still the same as they were in the 1980s, and the messy face and chin that goes along with spoons looks exactly the way I remember it. There are more choices for finger snacks now, but they are all really just variations on Cheerios.

And diapers haven’t changed. The big move from cloth to disposable mostly happened before we had babies, even though we actually chose to use cloth diapers for a while because they were specially designed to produce smart children with robust character and noble hearts. Eventually we decided the kids could develop their character on their own time and we went back to disposables. Last Wednesday night I went to Albertson’s to buy diapers for Madden and discovered the same brands and same sizes I was familiar with. Cyndi says the fasteners are better now, but I see that as a small incremental change. I should add, though, that the experience of changing a dirty diaper hasn’t improved at all. It’s still unpleasant.

Another thing that hasn’t changed is the value of a rocking chair. I love rocking chairs even when sitting all my myself with a book, but rocking while holding your snuggling granddaughter cannot be easily topped. It is one of the top five pleasures of life. Madden seemed to enjoy it, too.

The last thing I will mention that hasn’t changed is how hard it is for a man with un-dexterous hands to fix a little girl’s hair. For some reason babies with lots of hair run in our family. Katie, Madden’s mother, our daughter, had significantly more hair than any of her baby peers, enough to braid into pigtails at 18-months. And so does little Madden. But I need more practice before styling that extra-fine hair so that it will pass a mother’s or grandmother’s muster. Mostly, just like in the old days, I stuck to simple hair bows.

It is a tired cliché to say the more things change the more they stay the same. But clichés become clichés for a reason … because they continue to remain true over and over. I can’t wait to see what makes my lists next time.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

To learn about Berry’s books, “Running With God,” go to www.runningwithgodonline.com , or “Retreating With God,” go to www.retreatingwithgod.com ,… Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson or on Facebook … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 082511: Freedom

Riding my bicycle as a young boy was my first taste of freedom, my first opportunity to travel out-of-sight of my own home, the first time I could choose my own routes. I could ride where I wanted all by myself. I was free.

When I was in elementary school I rode my bike to school almost every day, riding about a mile from our house at 1409 Shannon Drive to East Primary School (Kermit, TX). I must have been about 4^th grade, but the memories tend to run together, so I’m not so sure.

There were a few winter mornings when it was too cold to ride my bike to school and my mom would give me a ride in the car, but that meant I had to walk home at 3:00 PM, which I never wanted to do. I can remember weighing the decision – a warm ride to school but long walk home, or cold bike ride to school but a fun bike ride home. I chose the bike most often.

So maybe that’s why I was receptive when my son, Byron, decided he wanted to ride his bike to school all by himself. He was attending Rusk Elementary at the time so that made him a 1^st or 2^nd grader. We lived on Whittle Way, about a mile west of the Rusk campus (Midland, TX).

Byron worked on me for several days to talk me into letting him ride. He and I had biked many miles together, riding to Burger King or playing missile-lock on the streets around our house, so I knew he was a good cyclist. Still, we were talking about a little boy all by himself.

But he had a plan. He’d figured which neighborhood streets to take to minimize his time on busy Neely Street, and he could rattle off the streets and turns by memory even while standing in our living room. He was ready, and I couldn’t think of any reason not to let him try.

So after a week of listening to Byron describe the adventure I finally told him he could do it as long as I drove behind him in the car. The next morning he saddled up and rode the route with me trailing in my car about a half-block behind. He knew I was following because we left the house together, but you couldn’t tell by his actions - he never looked over his shoulder even once. He was eyes-ahead all the way. He stopped at all intersections, checked for traffic, and rode close to the curb and away from cars. He was amazing.

I followed him for a few days, still with no acknowledgment from him other than a short wave after he arrived at school and locked his bike to the rack. He wanted me to know he was brave enough to do this on his own. Finally, he asked if I was OK with it all and could I stop following him. “Sure,” I said. And with that, he was a free man, and I was a proud dad.

I told him about the time I was on my way to school when my bike chain jumped the sprocket. I unloaded my books from the baskets and flipped the bike upside down on the seat and handlebars and rethreaded the chain. It wasn’t easy to do in the days before derailleurs since there was little slack in the chain. It took me a long time to get the chain back on and to ride the rest of the way to school. When I rode up to the bike racks and saw the empty playground and quiet schoolyard I knew I was very late. School had started long before.

When I walked into my homeroom the teacher raised her eyebrows at my lateness. I told her about losing my chain and that it took me a long time to fix it. She was rightfully skeptical – either she’d heard that lame excuse too many times, or she doubted a kid could actually make a repair like that. But I showed her my hands, which were black with grease from the chain, and she smiled and told me to drop off my books and go to the boy’s bathroom and wash up. I think she was actually proud of me.

The reason I knew how to fix the chain was because my dad taught me. He taught me how to flip it over upside down to work on it. He taught me how to fix flats, take apart the crank and grease the bearings, and how to service the wheels and hubs. Riding my bicycle was more than freedom, it was also the first time I was responsible for maintenance. With freedom came the responsibility to keep the bike rolling. I loved it. It felt substantial to work on my bike.

The boys on my block, we rode our bikes everywhere - in the street or alleys or dirt roads in the surrounding pastureland. We often rode behind the city truck that was spraying DDT in the alleys to kill mosquitoes. It was a challenge to see who could ride the closest to the fogger for the longest, surrounded by the white billowing cloud of chemical vapor. We must have reeked from the DDT when we got home but I don’t remember ever getting in trouble with mom for smelling like a chemical dump. Maybe as young boys we smelled bad enough already, and the DDT didn’t make that much difference?

I remember we had all watched a movie about knights and jousting and we wanted to do something like that on our bikes without killing or maiming each other. The solution we came up with was grass bur fighting.

We would pick grass burrs and pull off the leaves so all that was left was a long stem and a head with 6 or 8 individual burrs clustered on the end. We’d gather up a handful of those and climb on our bikes and go after each other, holding the grass burs in one hand and throwing them at each other with the other hand as we passed by. You were lucky if they stuck to your clothing; unlucky if they stuck to your arm or leg, or worse, your face or neck.

So I’ve been thinking a lot about freedom lately, the freedom that comes with age. I am old enough now I can pick where I work, pick were I go to church, pick who I live with and love. I am free to buy better gear than I had when I was young in Kermit so I can handle the cold weather better. I am basically free to run or ride wherever I want.

However, freedom demands responsibility, since I have to answer for many of those choices. And not only does freedom demand responsibility, it needs risk. As youngsters, the wild freedom of riding fast with abandon came with the risk of crashing. Or the risk of a grass burr in your eyelid, or clothes that stunk from DDT.

Without risk there is no freedom, and without freedom there can be no joy. I’m not sure you can live a safe and risk-free life and have joy. It certainly won’t be free.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

To learn about Berry’s books, “Running With God,” go to www.runningwithgodonline.com , or “Retreating With God,” go to www.retreatingwithgod.com ,… Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson or on Facebook … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 081811: Changing story

Last Saturday - August 13 - we drove over to Hobbs, NM, to ride the Roll for the Cure 50K bike race: Mark Foster, Corry Callaway, David Nobles, Todd Green, and me. We took my pickup with a hitch-mounted bike rack holding three bikes, and two bikes in the bed on a rack built by Todd. All five of us rode in the pickup, and we had a great time talking about family, cycling, and ministry all the way there and back. Possibly my biggest spiritual influences in the past few years have been trips just like this one, traveling with guys, whether to hike the Guadalupes or a bike race. It’s especially true during the ride home; shared hard effort loosens guys up.

Todd raced the 100K, and would have finished at least 3^rd place but he got bad directions toward the end of the race from one of the course marshals, causing him to miss an additional loop. Even after returning to the course he still came in 5^th.

The rest of us “raced” the 50K. When we first started talking about doing the Roll for the Cure I briefly considered entering the 100K. I’m a marathon runner, after all. I might have been talked into it in a soft moment, but I’m glad we decided to do the 50K instead. When it comes to cycling, my legs aren’t my weakest link; that would be my seat on the bike seat. 50K was plenty.

David was definitely the strongest rider our group of four, and he pulled us most of the day. We each took brief turns at the front, but David did most of the work. I personally had my worst patch between miles 17 and 19 when I would’ve fallen off pace significantly had I been riding alone, but the presence of our team inspired me to keep working hard. I didn’t want to fall back and lose contact. Our plan was to keep our cycling speeds above 15 mph, a significant goal for us newbies, and by the time the day was over David had pulled us to a 17 mph average.

Cycling is new to me, at least in the modern era.  I enjoyed riding as a kid, picked it up as an adult in the late 1980s and early 1990s, but gave it up for some reason. I resisted returning to the sport for years despite sustained pressure from my brother, Carroll, who seized any opportunity to bring it up whenever I complained about sore knees. I used all the predictable excuses: I didn’t want to spend big money for a good bike; I didn’t like sports where the more you spend the faster you can ride; I didn’t have time to fit another workout into my schedule; riding among auto traffic was too dangerous; and, like that. Finally I was squeezed enough by Carroll and friend Mark to take it up again, and since I also wanted to ride with nephew Kevin, I bought a Fuji hybrid bike. Now I’m having a great time.

One thing I like about cycling is I have lots of room for improvement. At my age, I have plateaued in almost everything else that I do, but since I have strong legs and no lingering injuries to body parts important for cycling, I have potential to ride much further and faster than I have so far. I just need more time in the saddle. And I need a leaner motor.

Maybe what I’ve enjoyed most is doing something new. You know how it is - whenever you first start doing something, all of it is new and exciting, and you don’t really know what the significant or important parts are yet. Cycling. like running, takes a lot of miles to understand the subtleties, to get over the initial excitement of participating and start to understand the changes in your own heart and soul and mind and legs. And real change comes only through discomfort. Or at least, sustained effort. You must be willing to hurt in order to get better.

It has been suggested that I shouldn’t make everything an intellectual exercise and I should just learn to enjoy the moment. That’s probably good advice for most people. However, I know this about myself: If I’m going to take on something of value, I must become a student of it. I don’t mind being a beginner, but I don’t want to stay a beginner. It isn’t enough to participate; I have to understand.

I also know that I have to tell stories. For me, no adventure is complete if I don’t have a story to tell and someone to tell it to. I don’t enjoy participating unless I learn something, and I don’t enjoy learning unless I can share it. If I don’t have a story, well, it never happened.

If you are a regular reader you know whenever I write about running or backpacking or family life, or cycling, it’s never really just about those things. I don’t know how to distinguish between my spiritual life and what we used to call secular life. It is all life. It all runs together. All the stories mingle and overlap, and that’s the reason I tell stories. Sooner or later they all circle around to how we change in our hearts and in our minds.

I expect that will happen with cycling. I know I need to read more in order to know how to write better about cycling. And my observations will change as I change. I’m looking forward to it, I must say.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

To learn about Berry’s books, “Running With God,” go to www.runningwithgodonline.com , or “Retreating With God,” go to www.retreatingwithgod.com ,… Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson or on Facebook … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 081111: How many things do you carry?

I’m fascinated with how we decide what stuff to carry, and always trying to fine-tune my own collection. I want to know how little I can carry in my pockets and remain civilized, entertained, and productive.

So Kevin Kelly caught my attention with his question, “In ten years from now, how many gadgets will people carry?” asked in his blog titled “The Technium Update.” Kelly is the author of the best-selling book, “What Technology Wants.”

Kelly says that technology wants to specialize, and any device we carry today will have more specialized purposes in the future. More specialized means there will be hundreds of new devices in the coming years, but no one will need very many. He believes we’ll all carry two devices, one multi-function handheld device, and a larger tablet type device. The tablet might be a flat plank, like current tablets, or it may unfold or unroll or expand.

So, of course, I asked myself: How many things do I carry nowadays?

When I dump my stuff into the black plastic tray on my counter every evening I see: keys with knife, phone, wallet, pen, 3x5 cards, coins, breath mints, and watch. I also have reading glasses with me most of the time but they usually end up on my night stand on top of my book rather than in the tray.

I wish my pile was smaller, but I use each of those items every day, so I can’t reduce the pile much. I also can’t add to it since everything has to fit in my pants pockets. When I look at my pile of keys and stuff on my bathroom counter, I wonder how long I could survive if I that’s all I had. Of course, having a credit card in the pile is nice since I could buy anything else I needed.

We’ve been watching old 1980s MacGyver episodes on DVD with Kevin since MacGyver is a good example of a hero who saves the day without violence or a lot of gear. Sooner or later every story has a scene when MacGyver uses his Swiss Army knife to get out of a jam. He uses it as a knife, a screwdriver, an awl, a pry bar, and much more. I don’t remember seeing him use the corkscrew, but we haven’t seen all the episodes yet, and to be honest I always thought the corkscrew was a bulky waste of volume in a compact device. Surely the few occasions when a corkscrew was needed one of the other tools would work as well.

I have my own small Swiss Army knife on my keychain, and it has a knife, flat screwdriver, scissors, tweezers, and toothpick. It’s definitely designed to solve urban problems. I use the scissors more than anything else.

But really, the closest thing I carry to MacGyver’s multi-purpose Swiss Army knife, as far as solving daily problems and continually rescuing me is concerned, is my phone. It is my camera (which I didn’t even need to carry just a few years ago), computer, photo album (and way better than the plastic fan-fold albums I used to carry in my wallet), address book, calendar, calculator, gaming platform, FM radio, alarm clock, Bible, map, GPS, dictionary, weather station, conversion chart, calorie counter, video viewer, and cycling odometer. Some people used their phone as a portable book but I haven’t dived into that yet - I’m still an analog book guy, and the phone screen is too small for extended reading. My phone also has a cool simulated trombone, but all I know how to do so far is show it off; I can’t play any songs.

I can imagine in a few years that my phone will also serve as my credit card, driver’s license, insurance card, and library card, completely eliminating my need for a wallet. It might even replace my ring of keys someday, but changing all our locks to receive a code from my phone sounds expensive.

Oh, I forgot, I also use my phone as a telephone, and for texting and emailing and Tweeting and Facebooking, which are all extensions of the telephone realm.

So my phone is my Swiss Army knife. If someone made a phone case that actually had a pull-out knife and screwdriver and scissors, I would be all set. I would be MacGyver.

However, as I stared at my pile, I wondered what I’d be looking at if I piled up my behavior patterns and thought processes that I use every day and never travel without. Would I be proud of what I saw? Would it be truly essential stuff or just a lot of old baggage that I’m too insecure to toss over the side?

I hope I would see prayer in the pile, and a hunger for the word of God. I hope I would see a seeking heart. I hope I would see humor and fun and smiles.

Is my pile of particular habits and disciplines enough to get me through life? I don’t have a personality VISA card to buy my way out of trouble, I have to rely strictly on what I already have. However, I do have a deep source of strength in Cyndi, and unlimited survival resources in Jesus. Those aren’t bad assets.

So, what’s in your pile? How many things do you carry?

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

To learn about Berry’s books, “Running With God,” go to www.runningwithgodonline.com , or “Retreating With God,” go to www.retreatingwithgod.com ,… Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson or on Facebook … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 080411: Prepared

 “Are you more afraid of missing out or messing up?” was my question on Twitter. How would you answer? The question came from something I read by Mark Batterson, that there are “two types of regret: regrets of actions and regrets of inaction.”

As for me, I’ve spent most of my life being afraid of messing up, making the big mistake, falling on my face, looking foolish, like an amateur, silly and insignificant. I didn’t want to regret my actions.

Now in my mid-fifties, I am much more afraid of the regrets of inaction. I’m becoming less afraid of messing up and more afraid of missing out. I don’t want to end up old and dried up wishing I had been brave enough to try stuff but didn’t because I was afraid of failing.

I like what the Apostle Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 6:1, “… please don’t squander one bit of this marvelous life God has given us.” I don’t want to squander.

I’ve wondered if my change of attitude is some sort of mid-life crises, where I worry about unaccomplished goals more than I worry about public failure. Or maybe it’s because the longer I live the lengthier is my list of mistakes survived, and the greater my confidence for future recovery and survival.

Or maybe it’s because I see the window of opportunity slowly closing and I know I have to make my move now to have time to get it done?

However, I think the biggest lesson I’ve learned is the futility of waiting until I am prepared and ready before moving forward. I now know that I’ll never be prepared enough, or ready enough, for anything.

So my new plan is to sign up for the race sooner, commit to the adventure right away, agree to help Cyndi now not later, and stop wasting so much time worrying about my preparations. Too often I’ve used my need for preparation as an excuse to never get started.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not becoming the sort of guy who dives into things without planning ahead. I was spontaneous once back in the 1990s and that has been plenty. I doubt I’ll become more spontaneous as I get older - I’ll still live by checklists and spreadsheets and still research my options before undertaking a new adventure. I’ll still put a lot of energy into preparation.

That’s easy to write, but hard to live out. I suppose you could say I’ve been preparing 50 years to be prepared enough to move forward without 100% preparation. And in spite of my dependence on preparation, our actual life history shows a pattern of hit-and-miss.

When Cyndi and I got married I’m sure I was not ready (since I had no idea what “ready” meant) but I spent a lot of time preparing. I probably thought I was ready.

And then when we had our first child, Byron, we were neither prepared nor ready. God blessed us with a sweet baby boy before we had a clue, and we had to learn on-the-fly. Had we waited until we were ready it’s possible we’d still be waiting.

For my first marathon attempt, I thought I was prepared and ready, but the race showed me I wasn’t. I came back a year later with essentially the same training and fitness but with a greater respect for the distance and demands, and I was successful.

When I made my first solo backpacking trip into the Guadalupes I was neither prepared nor ready. I had inadequate gear and scant knowledge, but I went anyway because I was tired of my own excuses.

As a writer, it took me way too long to finally publish my first book. I never thought I was ready. Now, working on my third, I realize I will never be fully prepared, and I’ll have to keep learning what I need to know through the writing process itself.

Dean Karnazes wrote about his first attempt at the Western States 100 and the run up the summit of Emigrant Pass and the peak of Granit Chief, at 9050’ elevation. As he neared the top he found himself in a short line of runners waiting to get water at the aid station. He was in the classic runner’s position, bent over at the waist with hands on knees gasping for breath. One of the aid workers filled Dean’s water bottles and then said, “You’re not going to be able to catch your breath standing here, no matter how long you stay. We’re too high up in the sky. Your only hope is to keep moving.”

It’s important to know that sometimes we will never catch our breath, never catch up, never settle down, and our heart will always be racing. We will never be prepared enough for the next part of the journey. Our best option is to keep moving forward. Keep our legs moving.

The reason I am writing about this is because it’s bigger than mountain climbing or marathon running. How many ministry opportunities have we squandered because we didn’t think we were ready? How many people failed to get the help they needed because we weren’t finished preparing? How many times have we failed to follow God’s will claiming the sorry excuse that we aren’t ready yet?

Seth Godin asked the question: “I wonder if there’s also a moral obligation to start?” He continued, “I believe that if you’ve got the platform and the ability to make a difference, then this goes beyond “should” and reaches the level of must. You must make a difference or you squander the opportunity. Wasting the opportunity both degrades your own ability to contribute and, more urgently, takes something away from the rest of us. To do less is to steal from them.”

Moving forward while feeling unready and Ill-prepared can be scary, I know. But we should be more afraid of lifelong regrets that temporary uncertainty. A life without fear is a life without accomplishment. Cyndi likes to remind, “Do something brave every day.” That usually means being scared and not being ready. If we have the means and ability and passion, we are stealing if we don’t act.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

To learn about Berry’s books, “Running With God,” go to www.runningwithgodonline.com , or “Retreating With God,” go to www.retreatingwithgod.com ,… Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson or on Facebook … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org