Tag Archives: Australia

Marathon, Not a Sprint

Training, , , , ,

“It’s a marathon, not a sprint, Kristi.” We must have heard that advice 30 times in the first months after Kristi’s diagnosis. I hated it. I didn’t want it to be true. It didn’t feel like a marathon. Several of my posts likened it to running the 400 meters, a brutally taxing sprint. Well meaning friends were telling us to pace ourselves. But that didn’t seem possible at the time.

Now that I’m familiar with running, I can say that her fifteen month battle was a sprint. Sprint’s demand all your energy from the opening gun to the finish line. I finished my second official 5K race two weeks ago. It is the sprint event of distance running. By the end of the first mile my lungs were screaming, by the time the finish line came into view at 3.1 miles I was spent.

Tomorrow morning I will toe the start line of the Austin Marathon. Its my first race at that distance. By mile 1 I will barely be warmed up. I expect to be fully loose and hitting my stride about mile 3. Miles 3-8 promise to be relatively easy. Then comes four to six miles of uphill that will put teeth into the course. At mile 14 the course flattens out and meanders to the 20 mile mark. That’s as far as I’ve run in training…and it hurt.

I managed to run 2-3 days per week on our trip, and let me tell you that was grand. Whether running the rolling hills outside Sydney, along the beaches of the Coral Sea, cruising the Southern Alps or busting through the native bush around Rotorua, I soaked up the atmosphere and reveled in the views. However I wasn’t able to get in as many long runs as I hoped and that hurt my preparation for tomorrow. Once I cross the 20.3 mile threshold I’ll be in virgin territory for a single run. I know getting to the finish will require grit and fortitude similar to the half-ironman triathlon race last October.

But you see the difference don’t you? The marathon eases you in, warms you up and then drops the hammer at the end. The sprint comes at you hard from the get go and never lets up. That’s what Kristi and I faced.

Nine hours from now I’ll finally get to experience what a full marathon is like. Look for an after action report. In the mean time your prayers for safety are appreciated. It’ll just be me, several friends from the Georgetown Triathletes club and 19,999 others moving through the streets of Austin.

Oh, and if you know someone going through cancer, keep your mouth shut about it being a marathon. Know that its requiring everything they’ve got to make it through each day. They’re in a sprint, no matter how long the battle. Take care of them accordingly.

Timing and Provision

Inspirational, , , , , , ,

We were in a pickle for sure. The queue of people waiting to catch a cab must contain at least 100 people. Most, in groups of two or three, easily clamber into the comically small, economy car taxis that pull alongside the curb. No way my crew of five would fit, even if we double buckled in the back seat…too much luggage. We each have one suitcase and one backpack, pretty compact for the length of our trip, but still way too much to even consider trying to wedge in one of those micro cars. I can’t split up. There’s no way I’m putting Katie or Megan and one of the boys by themselves in the car with a strange man in a foreign country. My mind is racing.

Then hope pulls around the corner. A mini-bus sized taxi that will easily swallow us all and our baggage. It whips up to the curb but only one man walks up, slides open the door, hops in and motors off. I’m raging inside, but my face is mostly implacable to prevent the children from worrying. What a waste! “Idiot, can’t you see that’s MY taxi?” I’m shouting. No one acknowledges my outburst and thankfully I realize I’ve only been screaming it around between my ears. Phew.

This won’t do. The line begins to shrink rapidly as the hungry drivers gobble their fares and motor away. Another mini-bus motors into position. Perhaps someone will notice our predicament this time I think. Nope. Three people hop in with shoulder bags and are whisked away. A few minutes pass before a third mini-bus arrives. I actually step out of line prepared to muscle my way forward to claim it, ready to push aside anyone who dares lay hands on MY transport. I’m too late. Its gone with a partial load before I can get close.

We weren’t supposed to be here. Waiting in this line. That’s what ticks me as well. Our plane was an hour late landing in the tropics and when I called the rental car agency for an airport pickup I got, “Oh sorry mate, I’m the only one here now since its after five and can’t leave. We’re just a five minute ride from the airport, can you catch a cab?”

“Um, sure, but you know I’ve got five in my party plus luggage and we can’t split up, right mate?”

“Aye, just grab one of the big taxis. They’ll be easy to catch. No worries now, see you in a couple minutes. Bye bye.” His sing-song farewell phrase would be cute if it didn’t feel so much like the American death knell when giving directions: “No problem, you can’t miss it!”

No worries. Right. I’m stuck on the curb, hope shrinking. Wait. No worries. That’s it. Brilliant! I gather the children close and pray out loud, “Father, you know we need a ride. Its gotta be one of those vans, otherwise I’m riding shotgun on the hood. We trust you to take care of us now.” I smile at them and reassure them with quick hugs all around. Let’s see how God provides. My gut is slowly untwisting, but I’ll admit, I’m still sweating and its not just the heat and humidity of the wet tropics in far North Queensland. I take a few deep breaths and remember the gentle nudge. He’s present.

Another micro-bus pulls up, we’re only a few parties back now. Nope. Gone. This time I actually chuckle. Just wait I think…trust and wait. No taxis appear for a couple of minutes. I bury worry without eulogizing it. Then four vehicles slide into view around the turn. Three wee cars and a van at the end. I can’t sort the groups in front of us in line. We all surge forward and the other travelers veer toward their chosen car. No one takes the van. Its the only one left and so are we. Provided. Just for us. No pushing, no shoving, no shouting. The right one at the right moment, perfect timing. We pile in with room to spare, our luggage easily stowed in the back. God is good. He knows our need.

That was November 27th, at the end of our second day in Australia and still just the very start of the trip. God’s provision of a taxi at exactly the right time helped me relax and enjoy the rest of the week. Even on the mornings we ran late due to traffic, got lost on unfamiliar roads or simply tried to find parking, I knew God would take care of us.

In the tropics of the western Pacific where we stayed, it is just heading into the monsoon season. The forecast was for rain every day. And it did rain, but never interfered with our activities. In fact our best day on the Great Barrier Reef started in the pouring rain at the wharf. By the time we reached the reef some 20 miles off shore it was partly cloudy and smooth as glass. So smooth in fact that the boat crew noted that the sea is only this glassy about one month out of the year. Thanks Lord! Rays, sharks, giant clams, christmas tree worms, multi-hued fan and staghorn coral, parrot fish, clown fish and so many more I couldn’t possibly name. Our three days on the reef were amazing.

During our last snorkel stop of the week we decided to take one more swim around. Luke started hooting through his snorkel and then out of the blue deep a large sea turtle appeared heading right for us. We swam right above it for a good ways before it left us behind with a quick sweep of its flippers. So cool! I’d asked the Father to give us a memorable moment on the reef. Several guides said they’d gone years without seeing a turtle of that size up close. And it came when all five of us were in the same group instead of split off in pairs and trios. Again, perfect timing.

The nine days in Australia ended all too soon and we found ourselves on the plane to Auckland. My tickets plainly said “meals available for purchase” but as we boarded the flight attendant looked at our boarding passes and said, “Oh you have “the works” on your tickets. That means you get free food and drinks.” Again, thanks Father. I hadn’t asked for or paid for any upgrades. Provision.

Timing and Provision.

Be Gone, B-9, Be Healed…its a way of life!

A Gentle Nudge

Inspirational, , , , , ,

My eye’s flicked open and I was awake. I shouldn’t have been though. Just three short hours earlier I had finally wrapped up the final must-do item on my trip prep list and flopped down on my bed. In the moments before I drifted off to sleep I wondered if my phone’s alarm would ring out loud even with its “Do Not Disturb” mode engaged. So I whispered a simple prayer: “Father, wake me gently right before my alarm.”

I thought planning this trip would be the biggest challenge before we left. I discovered, that hands down, shutting ones life down for six weeks trumped the scheduling. Every time I crossed one item off the list, two more would take its place. It wasn’t until the last night that items finally seemed willing to give up their place in the queue to empty space. When the last buckle snapped shut on my backpack I knew I had beaten the list but at the cost of sleep.

So when I finally hit the sack early Saturday morning I knew I’d be in deep slumber when 5:15 rolled around. But after my prayer, I didn’t worry about waking up. And sure enough Father gave me a gentle nudge. As I lay there in the pre-dawn darkness I wondered how close it was to wake-up time. The thought had barely formed when, sure enough, I confirmed that “Do Not Disturb” doesn’t silence the alarm.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed; it was time to travel. As I stood up, my swirling head confirmed the lack of sleep, but I smiled and relaxed. Father is present and he cares enough to wake me on time so this adventure gets rolling on schedule. The children have been at a fever pitch of excitement for several weeks building to a crescendo in the days leading up to blast-off. I didn’t want to screw up the first day. No worries! That waking nudge was the best gift I could have received here at the beginning.

It was Father’s confirmation that even here, at 36,000 feet over the western Pacific, His Spirit is with us as we cover the final three and half hours into Sydney. And that is my goal for this trip…that each of the children experience His presence, knowing that this is indeed our Father’s world. So my prayer is the same as two nights ago: “Gently wake us up Father to the reality of your presence. Let us respond to your nudge and let your Spirit guide us along the way.”

And now, eleven hours and 6000 miles from LAX the children are doing great at adapting to international long haul travel. Matthew’s biggest thrill has been receiving the free sleep mask. He’s sacked out next to me with his neck pillow and mask in place. He wakes periodically, shaking me from my reverie and asks again, “Do I get to keep this mask?” He responds to my yes with a grin, a fist pump and then he snaps it down in place and flops to one side. He hasn’t been pestering at all, just cute as a button in his Star Wars PJ’s as he takes in the wide-body jet with wide eyes.

The flights from Austin to LA were smooth and on time and we arrived at my sister Amy’s house excited to see her family. The cousins spent the entire 36 hours in constant motion and play of one sort or another. I thankfully got a full night’s sleep and Sunday’s dawn promised a perfect SoCal day. It didn’t disappoint. Our time together closed with an early Thanksgiving meal whipped up by Amy. Thanksgiving of course isn’t celebrated in Australia so stuffing ourselves with stuffing was nourishing to body and soul.

Our checkin for the fifteen hour flight to Sydney couldn’t have been smoother. No lines and twice more I was reminded of Father’s presence before we even cleared security. During checkin, the lady working the desk said, “Only four?” as she cast a glance at the children. Yes, only four. “I come from a family of eight siblings” she noted positively. How nice… “only four” is typically a comment reserved for home-school conventions. Usually people are gasping at four. This was just a little reassurance that Father’s favor doesn’t worry about family size.

Then just a few short minutes later one of the TSA officers took a shine to my little flock as we loaded our bins to go through xray. “Dad, are these your fine boys? And those lovely ladies too? Beautiful family sir. What a blessing! Step right this way”…and he whisked us through the simple metal detector instead of the full-body scanner. Nice!

As we settled on the plane I realized Matt and I sat in the wrong row. We had to move forward…to a bulkhead row. Three feet of leg room. No one reclining in my face. No extra cost! Yes! And the checkin lady had blocked out the seat next to us so the five of us have six seats between us in which to spread out. Yep, the nudging continues.

Sunset was in North America. Sunrise will occur on Australia. Yet we’ve never left His hand.

B-Gone, B-9, B-Healed…Its a way of life.

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