Secret of Life

At the intermission when the lights brightened and I could no longer hide the tear tracks on my cheeks I asked Cyndi, Why am I emotional? I don’t even care that much about going to Carolina? She said, When someone sings clear and pure it pushes straight through to your heart, no matter what they are singing.

The secret of love is in opening up your heart.

We were in Lubbock at the United Arena for a sold-out James Taylor concert, and it was amazing. He sang two hour-long sets with a twenty-minute intermission. His voice sounded like it did the first time I heard him sing on TV in 1970. How does he do it? (Maybe he was given the choice to give up his hair or give up his voice. If so, he chose wisely.)

 I've been wandering early and late from New York City to the Golden Gate, and it don't look like I'll ever stop my     wandering.

I’m always inspired then someone takes over a room simply by throwing themselves into their music. That usually occurs when the music is loud and confident and bold.

But James Taylor took control of the entire arena singing softly while playing his acoustic guitar. He came out with no introduction, sat on his stool, and started playing while the band slowly worked their way onto the stage. Amazing.

I've seen fire and I've seen rain. I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end. I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend, but I always thought that I'd see you again.

After he sang Fire and Rain the entire arena got out of their chairs and clapped for three minutes. It was a standing ovation for longevity as much as for that one particular song.

In the time we have here; This time we have it all

During the intermission, Taylor sat on the edge of the stage and signed autographs and posed for photos. He stayed at it until his backup singers pulled him away, and even then he kept grabbing one more poster to sign. The man is sixty-eight years old, he’s won five Grammy Awards and sold more than 100 million records worldwide, he’s been touring for more than forty-five years … and he’s still giving himself away to his fans, his people.

Isn't it amazing a man like me can feel this way,tell me how much longer, it could grow stronger every day.

James Taylor is a significant contributor to the soundtrack of my life and Cyndi’s life. We discussed this while lying in bed after the concert, after driving the two hours home to Midland, after watching the clock pass 1:00 am, about how blessed we are to share music. It’s one more strand that ties us together. A strong and resilient strand.

Every day, it's getting closer, going faster than a roller coaster. A love like yours would surely come my way

I don’t fear getting older (at least at this point, while I’m healthy, I’m looking forward to it) and I don’t fear dying (although I don’t look forward to that (I still have too much investment to make into grandchildren)), but what I fear is living a life that doesn’t matter. I fear getting to the end of it all with regrets for holding back when I should have stepped further up and further in. Listening to James Taylor communicate with clarity and joy after all his years on the road stirred hope in my heart that my own voice will be unambiguous and hopeful for the next twenty, thirty, or forty years.

The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time. Any fool can do it, there ain't nothing to it. Nobody knows how we got to the top of the hill. But since we're on our way down, we might as well enjoy the ride.

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

I need your help. The primary reason people read these articles is because people like you share with friends, so please do. And thank you. Also, you can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

To Understand and Know

Back when I served in government people often asked how to pray for me. I quoted a Bible verse, from a story about men who pledged loyalty to David, men “who understood the times and knew what Israel should do.” (1 Chronicles 12:32) That was my request: pray that I understand the times and know what to do.

When I read the verse again this morning in my Daily Bible it occurred to me I’d forgotten it during the eight years I’ve been out of office. Did I think I needed other things besides understanding and knowledge? It seems to be a silly notion now that I think about it.

Yesterday afternoon I visited the dermatologist’s office for the second time in my life, the first being nine years ago. Both times were for the same reasons most men to go a dermatologist – their wives tell them to.

In particular I asked the doctor about some spots on my cheek that appeared surprisingly invisible in his office but looked like leprosy only a few weeks ago in my bathroom mirror. I told him I didn’t know the difference between normal effects of aging and serious issues that must be treated, and now that I’m a certified grown-up I try to avoid the traditional male response to physical concerns which is to wait them out.

I once said the same thing to a young phlebotomist who planned to take my donation as soon as she recorded my blood pressure. She asked, Sir, do you have a headache? Yes, I have had a small ambient headache for several weeks. She said, It’s because your blood pressure is 205/134; go to your doctor now. She wanted me out of her cubicle before I erupted.

That was sixteen years ago and I’ve taken blood pressure medication ever since. I also check my blood pressure at home almost every day, again tying to be a grown-up, and of course, I plot the results in Excel. (I’ll email a copy of my plot if you’re interested, but I won’t include it in this post because someone I live with will roll her eyes at me.)

The dermatologist poked and stretched my face. He asked if I had issues on my back and I said none that Cyndi has complained about. He diagnosed seborrheic keratosis growths on the outer layers of my skin which are non-cancerous and can be treated with moisturizing lotion. He mentioned other treatments that included the phrase “stripping off the top layer of skin” but I passed on those. He gave me a handout which said the growths are common and often referred to as the “Barnacles of Life.” That’s what I have: barnacles.

After my doctor visit I drove back home for a three-mile walk before joining friends for Taco Tuesday. It was a great walk, one of my best, and I pushed my pace on alternating blocks, logging my best time in, well, ever, for walking. It made me happy. It started me dreaming again of long races and could I walk fast enough for another marathon, and like that.

I’ll admit health care is not something I know well. Our family has been fortunate that we required  few doctor’s visits, and our expense have been low.

But here are some things I do understand and know. You should: (a) regularly repeat the practices that draw you closer to God; (b) be a lifelong student of significant things; (c) grow strong in community by giving yourself away every day; (d) passionately and persistently pursue your love; and (e) lean forward in life as a person of hope.

Here is another thing I understand and know. There is lasting value in exploring your calling from God. It is a lifelong pursuit, and in my case, has been refined as I pass through the seasons of life. I am hosting a men’s weekend at my house April 29 – May 1 with Gary Barkalow from The Noble Heart Ministry, and it’s designed to help you understand your calling and know what to do. It is an excellent workshop and you should consider attending. It will change your life.

For more information, or to register, go to http://thenobleheart.com/midland-tx-calling-intensive-workshop. You won’t be sorry.

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

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Grow Stronger

Yesterday I rode 17 miles on my bike, my regular route, a route I’ve ridden dozens if not hundreds of times. My phone says the wind averaged 14 mph from the west, but the gusts made it much harder than that. To be honest, I’ve ridden in fiercer wind many times, but this time I pushed into it instead of backing off. Maybe because of something I read in a small cycling book titled The Rules. The author was writing about cycling uphill, but I substituted wind because, well, you know … “Everyone talks about (wind) being hard, but (riding in the wind) is, in its essence, a simple matter of pushing harder on the pedals. There is an art to it, make no mistake, but going fast (in the wind) comes down to the strength of your will, and with what fury it can make your legs piston the pedals.”

So yesterday afternoon I rode hard and pushed every time I felt the wind in my face, which was all the time. I know there is more to cycling that simply pushing harder into the wind. There is downshifting to keep cadence high and prevent early onset oxygen debt, there is riding with hands on the drops for improved aerodynamics, and had I the opportunity to ride with a group, there is the energy-saving technique of drafting behind other riders. But even with all those, it eventually comes down to pushing harder on the pedals.

I was reminded of a scene from the movie The 13^th Warrior, a historical fiction story set sometime in the Middle Ages, when an Arab diplomat, a highly-educated intellectual, surprisingly found himself going into battle with alongside a tribe of Viking warriors. When handed a Viking sword he said, “I cannot lift this,” to which his Viking trainer simply said, “Grow stronger.”

It makes no sense to complain about the wind. I have no excuses. I’ve lived in windy West Texas for 51 of my 59 years; only a fool would be surprised about something as permanent and persistent as the wind. (It’s like complaining about long lines when Christmas shopping … either get over it, or stay home … but don’t act surprised.) The decision is whether or not to ride, and if I decide to ride, know the wind will be part of it.

Besides, we have no hills around here, so there is no climbing. The wind is our only natural adversary other than the voice of resistance in our head that encourages us to stay home and take it easy until conditions improve.

I started this current phase of cycling a few years ago, once my knees submitted to arthritis and I could no longer run fast enough or far enough to work my heart and lungs. I first noticed I was losing endurance when hiking in the Guadalupe Mountains. I needed a new aerobic workout if I intended to keep moving.

So I stepped up my cycling game. I started riding further and faster and more often. And I grew to love the time I spent on my bike. So far, it hasn’t been as meditative as running, which is what drew me into running for 38 years, mostly because I have to stay mentally engaged to ride well and avoid traffic. But I am learning to appreciate how it speaks to me. I fully expect cycling to find a long-term place in my mental and spiritual health during the next 38 years.

I finished yesterday’s ride exhausted and breathing hard. Cyndi tried to talk to me about making plans for the evening but she eventually gave up. She said, “I’ll wait until you catch your breath and the blood returns to your brain.”

I was a happy man. I felt the subtle burn in my lungs and legs until bedtime. It was my first time to work so hard since knee surgery last summer.

There are few things as satisfying as the exhaustion following a hard workout. It feels like accomplishment, like improvement, like I am the Comeback Kid, like I am Super Man, like I can do anything, like I conquered the “No” voice. I can’t wait for my next ride.

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

I need your help. The primary reason people read these articles is because people like you share with friends, so please do. And thank you. Also, you can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

Be Good Stewards of Your Gifts

“When the world was all dark, your music got me to the sunlight.” I heard this on a TED Talk podcast, and while I haven’t had a lot of darkness in my life, most of my sunlight has come through music. I was in Tyler, Texas, last Saturday, for an event called the Instrumental Convergence. Eight of us traveled from First Baptist in Midland to join about 100 other musicians for an opportunity to play through the latest church instrumental music. It was my first band trip since the 1979 Orange Bowl.

It was a wonderful experience … to play with other good musicians … to be directed by an excellent clinician who not only inspired us to play well, but worship well.

We were led by composer/arranger Camp Kirkland, who said he no longer thought of himself as a conductor, but as The Unifier. He said all of us were the ones making music; his job was to unify our efforts.

For me, he was exactly that. He unified my love of playing good music with good musicians, with my life-long faith and Christian practice.

Camp quoted from the 1981 movie, Chariots of Fire, about Eric Liddell, the Olympic runner who later served as a missionary in China until dying in a Japanese internment camp in 1945. In the movie, Liddell told his sister: “I believe God made me for a purpose. For China. But He also made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure.”

That’s why we all gave up an entire Saturday to play together, because music is one of the ways we feel his pleasure.

Camp Kirkland said he regretted that most people stop quoting the movie at that point, but Liddell went on to say, “To give it up would be to hold him in contempt.”

It isn’t enough that we feel His pleasure … but  we are obligated to give back to God what he has given to us. Poet Jane Kenyon said it well when she wrote that we should “be good stewards of our gifts.”

The last line from Liddell in the movie scene is this: “To win is to honor Him.”

We are not only obligated to give back to God, we are also directed to perfect our art, to learn the skills, to honor God. Psalm 33:3 instructs us to “Sing to him a new song; play skillfully, and shout for joy.” (Special emphasis on the word “skillfully”)

So Saturday morning, as I looked around the room of musicians, I noticed at least half of them were older than me. I was firmly entrenched in the median age of the group. That was encouraging – reminding me I have lots of playing years left.

I told Cyndi that I was sitting with an entire row of vintage trombones held by vintage trombone players. (As for me, I was holding my favorite (of four trombones that live in my house), my King Silver Sonic 3B that I’ve played since 1970 (manufactured circa 1965). Cyndi has now decided my new Trail Name should be Silver Sonic, which is much better than my old Trail Name …Crotchety Bad-knees Gray-Head.)

As leaders, we wonder when we will age-out of personal ministry. I ask myself that all the time. How will I know when it’s time to step down from teaching and let the young bucks take over? But seeing so many fellow mature (in age, if not behavior … we were trombone players, after all; hardly known for mature behavior) musicians reminded me of what Dallas Willard wrote: “Aging is not loss; it is a time to add spiritual substance to the soul.”

I thought of Moses, whose life crashed at age 40, who was called into full-time ministry at age 80, and whose retirement plan consisted of leading the nation of Israel until the day he died.

Let’s all of us keep running fast and playing long, giving back to God to honor Him, for the rest of our lives. To do any less would be to hold him in contempt.

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

I need your help. The primary reason people read these articles is because people like you share with friends, so please do. And thank you. Also, you can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

Change of Plans

Monday at noon I hoped to take advantage of a beautiful day, 73* and no wind, by riding my bike for lunch. I was about halfway home when Cyndi phoned to say, Berry I think I broke my wrist. Where are you?

I was working at the studio and …

I am on my way.

She wanted to tell me the whole story over the phone but I had already shifted into problem-solving mode and no longer listening for details. When I arrived at the studio there were three students for the next class helping Cyndi wait for me. She was resting her wrist on a yoga block and had a plastic bag of ice on top.

I drove her to the Emergency Room and dropped her off at the door since I was in the ambulance entrance and had to move my pickup. By the time I parked and walked inside they had Cyndi in a wheelchair and ready to move down the hall. We went straight to her room and they put her in a bed and started installing lots of tubes and wires. She wouldn’t let them cut her Midland Yoga Works t-shirt so she pulled it off with her one good hand. The doctor asked questions, they did x-rays, and he confirmed the end of her left radius bone was broken.

They put Cyndi to sleep temporarily while the doctor manipulated the bone back into place. She appeared to be asleep but talked to the doctor all the way through the procedure. She kept telling him to be softer. Curiously, she also leaned forward toward me and said, Berry, I think you should buy that Specialized S-Works Tarmac Di1 road bike you showed me in the magazine.

I was surprised at her grasp of details in such a traumatic time as this; even more surprised that she no longer has any memory of the conversations with me or the doctor.

They released us to go home about 3:30 pm. We picked up her pain meds, went to Rosa’s for iced tea, and discussed how to get her car home from the studio. Since the studio is only about 3-1/2 miles from our house I decided to walk to the studio. Cyndi wanted to join me; so, left arm in a sling, she walked with me, maintaining her regular three-foot distance in front of me in case anyone wondered which of us was the faster walker.

We got her car and I drove to her satellite location so she could teach the beginner yoga class. I told her this was her chance to develop her own style, Riverdance Yoga, where you use your feet and not your arms.

Later, as I distributed our day’s story among the family, our daughter Katie wrote: This explains the pool of strong independent woman DNA I come from.

I would add that Katie has not only inherited that DNA, she’s passed it along to her own two daughters. Young Madden was visiting us last summer when she fell on the climbing bars at the playground across the street from our house. We found out later that she had a small hairline fracture in her collarbone, which we were totally unaware of. Even after falling she complained only of a sore shoulder when she took swimming lessons afterward. Tough girl.

Our son Byron wrote: So she does a handstand on top of Guadalupe Peak … no problem; but moving boxes … broken wrist. Mom doesn’t really do “ordinary.”

Our nephew Kevin once asked who was stronger, me or Aunt Cyndi? I said, It depends whether we are lifting weights or doing sit-ups and planks. Not only is she physically and psychologically strong, and tough, she is wide-open bright and creative. I am a lucky man.

After receiving a few eyebrow-raising texts about Cyndi’s decision to walk three miles straight out of the emergency room, I replied, it is our family tradition to not coddle each other, and not coddle ourselves.

Here’s the thing. It’s easier to be strong and tough and determined when you live with someone who believes in you all the way. Cyndi does. And I do. We are better, brighter, more creative, more loving, and happier, as a team, than either of us could even approach alone.

She will probably have surgery on her wrist next week. We are already changing plans for this spring to accommodate our new future. It should be exciting times ahead.

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

I need your help. The primary reason people read these articles is because people like you share with friends, so please do. And thank you. Also, you can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

The Music of Your Heart

Wednesday morning at Body Pump (a group weight lifting class that focuses on small weights but lots of reps, designed for overall body fitness rather than increasing muscle mass (and we all know more mass is not anything I need), and which, at least the class I go to, is taught by my lovely wife Cyndi at Hero’s Gym) we worked out to legendary music. I am referring to the song “American Woman.” My relationship to that song goes all the way back to the original release by The Guess Who in 1970. When I was a freshman at Kermit High School, an upperclassman friend used to give me a ride home from school in his powder blue Ford Mustang. Being the youngest the car, I always sat in the back seat behind my friends. They loved an 8-track by The Guess Who, and it always seemed to be playing American Woman at the time when they dropped me off at my home on Shannon Drive. It was loud. The entire neighborhood could hear the music as I climbed out of the car. I remember the pained expression on my mom’s face as she wondered what was happening to her little boy now that he was in high school and hanging out with those guys.

I’ve loved that song ever since then.

But Wednesday morning we worked out to Lenny Kravitz’s cover of the song, which is an excellent recording in itself, and the pained expression this time was my own while trying doing endless bicep curls. Lenny seemed incapable of saying “Bye bye” to his girl quickly. We all suffered because of his slowness.

And if that wasn’t enough, Cyndi lead our stretching and cool down with the song, “I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends” as sung by Joe Cocker, which tops my list of songs by the Beatles but the cover version is significantly better than the original. When Joe Cocker sings, he really wants your help. He even screamed at the appropriate time during a hip flexor stretch. This song went on and on, too, but Cyndi cut it off since the class was over and everyone (at least the few grownups who stayed for stretching) wanted to put up their equipment and go home. It made me sad, though, because, well, it was Joe Cocker. How could she cut him off?

At a recent men’s retreat, one of the speakers was my friend Rabon Bewley, king of music at Midland College and the most fun guy to talk with music with. He played several pieces of music to illustrate how they mold our thoughts and emotions, even our hopes and dreams. And then, rather than asking the question, what is the heartbeat of this song, Rabon asked, what is the song of your heartbeat? What music illustrates where your heart resides? He asked us to list the characteristics of our heart, and then find a song that told the story of those qualities.

My first reaction was the same song that’s always my first answer when the question is about music, “It’s Too Late To Turn Back Now” by The Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose. It’s been on my list of top five favorite songs since I first heard it in the summer of 1972. “It's too late to turn back now; I believe, I believe, I believe, I'm fallin' in love.”

But following Rabon’s instructions, I made a list of the characteristics of my heart: hope, belief in the future, optimistic to a fault, a light touch. Then I looked through the playlists on my phone and immediately landed on another song that told the story of my heart better than I’ve been able to tell it in 800 blog entries and three books. The song is “Life Less Ordinary” by Carbon Leaf.

“Live a life less ordinary, Live a life extraordinary with me. Live a life less sedentary, Live a life evolutionary with me.” These lyrics are an invitation to live an extraordinary life together. Perfect.

Music is an amazing force-multiplier. It’s no accident that that longest and richest book in the Bible is a collection of songs. God speaks directly into our hearts through the music that surrounds us, even when we are doing endless bicep curls to rock and roll.

Amy Grant wrote and sang, “It's not a song till it touches your heart; It's not a song till it tears you apart; After what's left of what's right and what's wrong, till it gets through to you, it's not a song.”

What about you? As Rabon asked, “What is the music of your heart? What is the song where your heart resides?”

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

I need your help. The primary reason people read these articles is because people like you share with friends, so please do. And thank you. Also, you can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

Asking For Help

Most of time I get into a bind it’s because I won’t ask for help. I take too long trying to fix it myself. I hurt my right shoulder last June, before the two knee surgeries, when I fell in the garage after cycling. It turns out I injured it way more than I suspected at the time.

I should have known I was in serious trouble when I couldn’t raise my right arm above horizontal without using my left arm to lift it. I couldn’t turn on light switches, push the garage door opener, put my keys into the ignition, adjust the radio, or reach across the table for chips and salsa. It was pathetic. However, in spite of the pain and inconvenience, I assumed it was merely a bruised or strained the muscle and would get better with a little time.

Two months later, after mid-summer distractions of knee surgeries, I finally asked Cyndi what I should do about it and if she knew anyone who could help. She sent me to Paul Hamels at GreenTree Day Spa, who specializes in neuromuscular therapy.

He said, You don’t have a torn rotator cuff because you’re too young, you haven’t been in an auto accident, and you aren’t a professional athlete, and you don’t have any broken bones since there’s no swelling. He knew exactly what was wrong with me. The long-head bicep tendon had slipped out of its groove in my shoulder, leaving my bicep without the leverage necessary for my arm to function.

Using his hands, he pulled the tendon back into place, a procedure that sounds more painful than it was, and I regained my range of motion immediately. My shoulder was still sore due to the lingering trauma, but my arm worked. He told me to ice it and be careful.

So I started working out in the gym and apparently pulled the tendon out of place again. And again I waited too long before recognizing the seriousness of the problem and returning to Paul to fix it. I finally went back, and he put me back into place. Again.

I went back to working out as usual and, I hate to admit this but, it seems I pulled the tendon out a third time. I went to Paul in December and he fixed me again as well as lecturing about strengthening it slowly and now that I’m older it takes longer to heal whether I like it or not. You will not heal this with willpower, he said. Bummer.

I uncharacteristically followed his instructions this time because I didn’t want to waste another six months. I stayed completely away from Pump class, the one that Cyndi teaches, and worked my biceps at home with only five pounds each arm, just like Paul told me.

My next follow-up visit was better; the tendon was still in place. So by mid-January I eased back into Pump class using only five pound weights. If felt silly to have so little weight on my bar, hardly worth the drive to the gym. Even with squats and chest I kept the five pounds since I had to use my shoulders to hoist the bar. For flys and shoulders I used only 2-1/2-pound weights.

After I got over my embarrassment from working out with unmanly weights, I discovered I felt great the rest of day. I was finally on the road to recovery.

Then I went to yoga for the first time in forever. In fact, it was only my third class since new knees. I had been nervous about putting my knees on the floor, which happens a lot in yoga, but I decided I was babying myself too much and it was time to get over it. The yoga class was hard, and everything we did hurt because it had been so long since I’d tried, but I enjoyed it and felt better afterwards than I expected I would.

So the next morning I went to Pump class again. Three workouts in three days, something I hadn’t done in months. I kept the low weights, deciding my manhood could stand this for a few weeks longer.

It has now been a full month and I’ve gradually increased weight and my tendon has stayed in place. Even Paul Hamels said he was proud of me.

The reason I’m writing about this is to point out how my shoulder injury was exaggerated and even encouraged by my failure to take it seriously sooner. I should have realized right away it was a debilitating injury and gone for help. Has something like that ever happened to you?

Why did I make such a mess of this simple injury? Because I didn’t ask for help sooner. I should’ve learned better by now after all these years.

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

I need your help. The primary reason people read these articles is because people like you share with friends, so please do. And thank you. Also, you can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

Persevering Together

Saturday morning I rode in a cycling club 100K fun ride. It was the furthest I’d even thought about riding since 2014, but I wanted to make the leap to a different distance plateau to see how my knee surgery was healing. Incremental increases up the distance ladder make the most sense physically, and for injury avoidance, but do little to energize thinking. I wanted to open my mind. I made a rookie mistake of starting out too fast and trying to hang with the lead group longer than I should have. But I really did that on purpose since most of my rides are alone; I never get a sense of how much more energy I should invest. My friend Fred Walsh used to say about marathon training: Run alone, run slow. It’s the same with cycling: ride alone, ride slow.

The good news from the ride was that my knees felt great. They weren’t the limiting factor for the day. What slowed me down were my lungs. I couldn’t ride the pace with the rest of the group and still breathe.

In truth, with full disclosure, I didn’t make the entire 100K. I was tired and defeated at the two-hour mark, which was also when the ride director suggested everyone turn around and head back home, so I uncharacteristically followed instructions and turned around.

Riding back toward Midland was much harder. I fought against the strong southeast wind blowing against my right shoulder for miles, getting slower and slower, until Jeff Brammer rode up beside me. He maneuvered to the right-hand side of the road, between me and the wind, and motioned for me to tuck into his draft. Jeff is about eight feet tall and creates a formidable wind break. He drug me for the next ten miles and would not let me fall off the pace … he kept slowing down to catch me and bring me back to speed

By the time I finished the day I had 58 miles, just four miles shy of a 100K. I wasn’t disappointed, though; this was a significant jump in distance for me and I was happy to finish on my own two wheels. I accomplished all my objectives of the day: my knees felt great, my legs were shot, yet I could still stand up and walk around.

While my regular 15-20 mile rides meet the need for cardiovascular exercise and weight management, they do little to light up my brain. I learned in my old life it was the long training runs (2 hours or more) that reshaped my thinking and opened my mind. I had to run far enough to find the meditation point. Now that I’m cycling I have to ride far enough.

As I loaded my bike into the pickup bed I heard the other guys talk about their Sunday morning plan. The very next morning they were riding to Kermit and back, about 140 miles round-trip. It was a bit overwhelming to hear this knowing I was done for the weekend, but it gave me a better picture of what’s possible. I can’t do what they planned to do, now, but someday.

There is a hardness that comes only from extended time in the saddle. I don’t mean butt or quad hardness, but mental hardness. And it doesn’t come any other way except from riding long distances on a regular basis and letting other riders pull you up to speed.

It’s also true for running, backpacking, and even for yoga. My wife Cyndi can do back-to-back day-long workshops, at a master level, when I can barely last through a one-hour class. She’s put the extended time on her mat. She’s toughened up. And she’s let other people pull her up to speed.

Perseverance, endurance, is highly underrated. Most of the victories in our lives come because we simply keep going. Every time we stick it out, don’t quit, we get stronger for the next time.

The Bible says, “When troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy.  For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow.” (James 1:2-3, NLT) We cannot grow without trouble, and we will not grow without perseverance.

The good news is, we don’t have to endure on our own. We don’t have to fight the head winds always by ourselves. We can draft behind those who are stronger and let them pull us. We can borrow faith from each other when life gets hard. Just pull up close and let your brother or sister block the wind and pull you up to speed.

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

I need your help. The primary reason people read these articles is because people like you share with friends, so please do. And thank you. Also, you can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

Chosen

I once said it feels the best to be chosen by someone, and you asked: How do I choose you? I said: You choose me when … …you send me a cool text

…you flirt with me

…you invite me to lunch to be with you around your friends

…you walk across a crowded room to stand next to me so I can reach out and touch you

…you brag about me and the word finds its way back to me and I feel like king of the world

…you show up at my door after I thought I’d lost you forever

…you want me to join you on out-of-town workshop weekends and don’t feel like you have to entertain me

…you say: Putting up with each other is another way of saying I love you

…you look at me with delightful eyes across the gym during Pump class, because of the song lyrics, and everyone in the room knows why

…you ask me to join you in the dressing room at Title Nine, saying: Come in here and feel me in this dress

…you tell a room full of skeptical women that you have given me your heart and I hold it very gently

…I discover to my delight that trying to sit beside you at pizza in Denton with the NMJC band is easier than I thought because you are trying to do the same

…you tell Patti not to get mad at Jim for bossing me around during filming because I can handle it and I wouldn’t have survived 12 years of government unless I knew how to be cool about those situations

…you tell someone to read or subscribe to my journal or pitch my books

…you play (and dance to) Aerosmith’s Walk This Way while I take my first post-surgery walk down the hospital hallway

…you take me to Rosa’s after I get home from the mountains and sit across from me and put your feet up on my bench seat, one foot against each of my hips, with searching curiosity in your eyes because you want to know about my time on the trail and you intend to wait until I tell it all

…you make me sit down and listen to the Seton Medical presentation at the Austin Marathon

…you press the issue of Wild at Heart Boot Camp knowing I thought it a selfish indulgence, because you don’t want me to think only the cool guys go to things like that, and you make sure I register even on a cruise ship during our family vacation

…you buy an Arc'teryx Bora 80 backpack for me and encourage me to use it

… you write the check for my Specialized Tarmac Elite road bike

…you wait patiently for me at the OKC Marathon finish line and do not say, I can’t believe it took you so long

…you bravely follow me while I leave a high-paying job and take off on my own

…you tell me, That was a Jack Ryan move, whenever I bring together scattered data to form a new insight

…you encourage me to go forward with knee replacement and take great care of me during recovery and rehab

…you tell Ronnie: Don’t worry Berry doesn’t get upset over things like that

And today, after 36.54 years of marriage, I can’t wait to see how you’ll choose me again

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

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Calculating the Risk

When I saw the weather forecast for Dallas I started making plans for a

Comfortable long walk at White Rock Lake

When I analyzed Cyndi’s workshop schedule

Friday evening from 3:00 until 8:00 pm

Enough time to do something significant

When I considered my last time to circle the lake

February 2012 nine miles on bad knees

It couldn’t hurt worse this time

When I wondered about walking all the way

I could settle into a steady 20:00 pace

Without concentrating too hard

When I calculated the risk

Not a small thing since there are no shortcuts

Knowing I’d hobble in on sore legs in the dark

When I remembered that hobbling in the dark

Described my 2012 run

My knees are stronger now than then

When I considered the running truism

You shouldn’t increase distance more than 10%

But that was for regular people

When I leaned back and howled

A road warrior since 1978

What is a 200% increase to me?

When I knew the effect this trail has on my heart

How many times God has spoken to me here

I expected it to happen again

When I thought about spiritual thin places

Most of mine are on urban or mountain trails

White Rock Lake trail is one of my thinnest

When I considered I just published a blog

“Longing to be Courageous”

Tipping my hand to family and friends

When I finally finished walking in the dark

Clicked my key fob to see happy yellow lights

Blinking on each fender welcoming me home

At Chick-fil-A for an exorbitant yet well-deserved

Vanilla milkshake

It was wonderfully satisfying

When I could walk the next day

Without the anticipated crippling stiffness

That’s when I was a happy man

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

I need your help. The primary reason people read these articles is because people like you share with friends, so please do. And thank you. Also, you can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.