Marathon Log.16.  Miles logged: 16 (+2) miles.

I'm Martha.  Clarification: that's Martha, sister of Mary of Bethany.  The Martha who busied herself rather than sitting at Jesus' feet.  The Martha who, unlike her sister, did not choose what was better. 

It took a total stranger to tell me that my attempted feat of 20 miles yesterday was absurd.  I was rather peeved when he approached me--after all, he looked to me a portly, middle-aged man.  Plus he didn't know me.  What right did he have to tell me that I should stop running?

I guessed I must have looked like crap at Mile 15 because he approached me and asked how I was doing (he was a runner in another pace group).  I responded that I was fine, and I guess that wasn't convincing enough because about a mile later he tactfully recommended that I stop.

Up to that point, I was feeling pretty good about myself--I mean not only was I back running with the group for the first time in over a month, but I also bested my longest distance of 12 miles.  I was beat, but I knew that my self-will and determination would carry me to 20 miles.  And my injury was hardly a problem at all.

I'm ultra defensive.  Oh sure, people often remark to me that I have a very gentle and quiet spirit, but boy--there's an ugly side, too.  I can be very focused but that focus gives way to short-sightedness, and even *sigh* stupidity.

Now, I didn't think that running 20 miles was absurd yesterday.  In my mind, if I set my heart to do it, I sure as heck was going to motor through.  

I'm the same way with other things in life.  I'll pile up responsibilities and be so concentrated on task that even in moments of quiet my mind wanders restlessly, compulsively mapping out the things I have to do.  And I'm a good little workerbee, too.  If left to my own devices, I'd clone myself or create more hours in a day.

So a rather tearful me trudged back into my house after my run.  I stumbled upon the book of Colossians and read it to myself.  The Apostle Paul wrote in order to combat some heretical teachings that had entered the church.  He placed emphasis on the supremacy of Christ, which had become lost to the Colossian believers.  Though it is not heresy that I battle, in a way it is.  The heresy of believing that I always need to "do" rather than just "be." Christ becomes lost to me as I busy myself in things. 

And almost too appropriately, the message today was on Mary and Martha. 

Yes, my name is Martha and I'm a workaholic.

Marathon Log.15.  Miles logged: 4.5 miles

Some of you may be wondering if Sherise didn't just get a new leg or just something since I haven't said much about my marathon training as of late.

If I could still manage a cartwheel, I would have definitely turned one today during my run.  I finished 4.5 miles in 45.5 minutes!!  That's about a 10-minute mile pace for you mathematicians out there.

Pace aside, that doesn't matter.  The real victory is finishing those miles. 

In those weeks of silence since my last marathon update, I've been through alot.  The biggest thing was going to see a sports therapist.  That was an occasion in itself since Sherise doesn't like to admit she's hurt.  Shuns all help possible--does it on her own (special thanks to WK for coming with).

Then there was the unrealistic hope that my therapist would be some sort of magic genie.  Please oh please, just take the pain away...

The pain didn't stop afterwards.  In fact, I still feel the risiduals of pain.  I had my work cut out for me after meeting with her.  Namely, my running stride.  Turns out my running technique isn't optimal.  Not terrible, but could use some work.  My second best friend in all of this has been a foam roll.  Roll, roll, roll the pain away.

She told me I need to be diligent.  And I'm trying to be as faithful as I can.

In all of this striving, may I not forget why I am running.  Muddled in all of this is the fact that I chose to run on behalf of the SF AIDS Foundation.  How timely today was the message on the Good Samaritan!  In all this focus on self and my pain, I've neglected the mercy He asks us to extend to our neighbor.

Some have asked, well why the SF AIDS Foundation?  Sure, it supports a lifestyle that I cannot agree with, but instead of shunning this population shouldn't we who have the Hope of Glory be right where they're at?

Think about it and click here.

A Passionate Escape.

A fresh start to a new year.  My xanga went idle for a couple of weeks, but I'm back with a flood of thoughts to kick off the new year...

Throughout this past year, each time God imparted some truth into my heart I would get this image of a frying pan giving me a good WHACK in the back of my head.  I've since come to understand that it's less of a WHACK and more the image of gentle, loving hands grasping my shoulders and saying "my child, this is who I am."

And oh man, these realizations can really part the 'ol floodgates of my tears.

I began my new year with a trek out to Nashville, TN for the Passion '05 conference.  I'll admit that my decision to go was mere whim than anything else.  Nevertheless, I found myself on a plane with my sis (later joined by mfong and sis) headed to the South, not knowing what to expect.

To prove Himself who He is, God often redeems man's plans for His ultimate glory.  And that is exactly what He did for me at Passion '05.  As He spoke to my heart my desire became that He would make an honest person of me--humble before Him and surrendered. 

A lot of what exists as a low grade depression in my life is the constant striving in my own flesh, and thus relying on my own parameters of joy.  Piper pounded in the truth of God's God centeredness, and though repeated in all his various writings, I came to a new, almost radical acknowledgement.  Pursuing my own joy glorfies God.  Somehow I've lost that pursuit of joy.  I've missed being glad in Him.

Many other tear jerkers over the 3+ days I was there.  The momentary experience of worshipping with 12,000 others left me desiring for the promised reality of forever joining in the throngs of worshippers.  Oh for that day!

Other Highlights of Nashville (Of the Less Spiritual Sort)

Honky tonk is real and alive.

The southern drawl is infectious.

Coleslaw and fries in a sandwich is pretty doggone good.

No, I'm not from Mississippi

Waffles and smattered/smothered/scattered hash browns at 2am.  

Chis Tomlin--ooh that smile...

Thousands of Christians gathering without outside protest (San Francisco?  Wouldn't happen.)

Gateway girls reunion--LB, AE, MK--love ya gals.

Oh and a quickie marathon update...God healeth.  I visited a sports therapist and have been on the mend.  I proceed with trepidation, but abiding in Him who ultimately heals.  The spiritual parallels continue to abound. 

Favorite Things From My Day

1. Running for the MUNI train and not feeling any pain (hallelujah!)

2. A seat on the train (and thus avoiding those germ-infested poles)

3. The security guard who waved me past without my ID badge.

4. A healthy stash of chocolate on (and in) my desk

5. Pumpkin spice latte from Starbucks and my journal

6. A once failing student who made it (I was thrilled--ask me about the whole story sometime)

7. A second once failing student who made it (a semester long investment for me--also one of my personal students)

8. KOIT Listen While You Work--Christmas music 'round the clock!

9. Not having an eye exam for 3 years but the doctor complimenting me that my contacts didn't seem to have the wear and tear she expected

10. Exactly enough change for the train ride home.

Marathon Log.14.  Miles logged: 1 (or something like that)

* Sigh * I'm still not really able to run.  Seriously, everyone and their mother is passing me up nowadays (because I end up having to walk).  Worse yet, I'm getting tired of people asking how my marathon training is going--it seems like that's all people talk to me about.  I seriously don't mind, but it has the effect of reminding me of my stalled condition.

There are a lot of unpleasantries that surface when I start feeling antsy.  Here are a few:

Jealousy.  When I see someone running with such ease and freedom there's a twinge of jealousy that emerges.  That used to be me.  I've told several people that out of frustration I'd like to just cut off my leg and get a new one.  Ugh.

Fear.  I have a growing collection of injury horror stories that people have incurred from running.  I suppose folks are sharing them with me out of concern, but it ain't helping my cause...

Stubbornness.  So the battle that's waging in my heart is--am I supposed to tough this out and run with perseverence to finish the race?  Or am I to cease striving and know that He is God and that He will be exalted in all the earth? 

It's hard not to be disheartened. 

Marathon Log.13. Miles logged: 2

Two measly miles.  That's all that I could manage on what still is a frustrating battle with my uncooperative leg.  Oh but this time it was an all new pain--it was sharp and not that dull pain that I had before.  The pain this time made me wish for the old pain again. Yeesh.

With all my marathon ventures (especially my injury) comes a steady stream of advice from family, friends, and all those genuniely concerned..."You should_____, Sherise"  My typical response? "I know, I know..."

I know this isn't a piece of cake.  I know that our bodies are not meant to pound pavement for such great a distance.  I know I'm not the poster child for marathon training.  I know this is slightly absurd.  I know that I could stop at any time.

And believe me, I want to stop. 

Yet I'm realizing that these things take time.  I find sometimes that I often make these rash decisions that prevent me from seeing the beauty that awaits those who are patient.  This past week I had a student come into my office for what I thought would be a typical check-in (note to self: never assume this).  I was prepared with my spiel until I realized that the student was starting to cry.  Oopsies.  And I was ready to send her along her merry way!  The worse thing is, I made the same mistake the second time she came in (thank goodness for a box of Kleenex in my office). 

The student was privately dealing with an intense emotional pain.  And though she did not disclose, I guessed what it was and realized--God placed me her way for a specific purpose.  And for reasons unexplainable she said she felt better from talking with me.  And me in my hurriedness would have missed out.

So before I call it quits, I ask for grace to wait this out.     

Support my marathon endeavor by clicking here.

Marathon Log.11.and.12.  Miles logged: 11

Never fear, I'm still alive.  I'm running again (just barely), but I'm behind.  I'm now the slow poke--the one running in the back of the pack.

My leg started feeling better during my trip to LA.  Ahh, the wonders of a vacation (plus warmer weather and sitting 16 hours in the car).  Vacation was a bliss.  I indulged in everything that my busy schedule back at home usually cannot afford--television, good eats, shopping, going out to a movie, even went to a Laker game! 

My first run after my hiatus was the day after Thanksgiving in sunny Redondo Beach.  Change of scenery and weather (even company--my cousins and aunt rode bikes alongside) helped tremendously.  I was still running gingerly, afraid of reinjuring myself.  The tightness in my calf returned, but not to the extent of before.

You don't know how good it felt to be back in the saddle again.

My relief is tempered by the reality that the road ahead remains long.  And those 11 miles this past Saturday were really wearing on me.  Saturday was supposed to be a 17 mile run, but coming off of injury I knew I couldn't run the whole thing.  So I stopped at 11 and turned back.  Back at the run site I was welcomed by the sight of a physical therapist.  I explained to her my injury, but assured her that I was feeling better.  She sat me down, and had me lie on my stomach while she stuck her thumbs in my calf.  Not only did the soreness return, but it was painful!  It hurt like none other.

Sometimes when we think we have adequately dealt with something in our lives we realize that God is not completely finished with us yet.  And it's painful.  But yet we know that our suffering produces perseverance, perseverance character, and character hope.

Hope is a beautiful thing.  Especially given the joy of this season.

Support my marathon endeavor by clicking here.

Marathon Log.10.  Miles logged: 0

I stopped running this week. The dull pain that I've been experiencing in my left leg just hasn't gone away.  I decided that it would be better if I ddin't run, even though it was ultra hard to stop and not feel like a wuss.  The fighter in me would troop it through. 

But now I'm in place of what next?  My goal of finishing this marathon seems like a distant hope if I can't recover from this. 

In life I also come to these breaking points.  Everybody does, even Jesus before he assumed the cross.  Recently I've struggled with a restlessness over where God wants me next year.  I often times yearn for a stability that seems absent--I suppose if I didn't care my life would be pretty satisfactory.   But I do care--I want God to fulfill His purposes in my life.

I could throw in the towel.  I could chase after things that I previously walked away from--a hotshot career, an advanced degree, material wealth--essentially a life that is lived for me.

Yet God reminds me of His greatness.  And within that greatness is such beauty and truth that my tears of pain are exchanged for tears of joy.  The response can only be the surrendering of my life.

This is the grind--where the rubber hits the road.  And ooh boy is it tough.

Pray for the sharpening of my faith.  Pray also for the healing of my leg.

Marathon Log.09.  Miles logged: 6

Whoever thought 6-miles would be a welcome relief?  Well, it was, and I'm relishing in the fact that my body doesn't feel brutalized this week.

So, with my "break" in running comes a "break" in what has become my weekly tradition of marathon manifestos. 

Oogabooga.  Don't read more into that than you should =)

Sponsor my marathon endeavor by clicking here.

Marathon Log.08.  Miles logged: 12

No beating around the bush on this one--I'm hurtin' after this latest run.  I was concerned going in, knowing that my calf was hurting me after last week's run (it might even have been after that dumb decision of mine to race that other runner during one of my personal runs).  This is the point of my training when I'm starting to really feel it.  Mel, Wilma, and I earlier agreed that this hasn't cost us anything yet.  I think that the honeymoon is officially over.

It takes a lot for me to admit that I'm hurting.  I'm the quintessential first born--stubborn to the core and fiercely independent.  I'm also a perfectionist to boot.  Yesterday I came to the realization that I've been giving so much of myself to other people that when the time comes to receive, I'm almost too flabberghasted to consider what that means.  A lot of it stems from who I am called to be at work--I'm the problem fixer, the one that students go to in crisis.

The thing about having to be the strong one is that it takes a toll.  Finally yesterday I broke down in tears realizing that the greatest Help that I have shunned is from my Father.  I see how if I don't come before Him in truth that I diminish the grace that is made available to me through His Son.   

So I am human, after all. 

I NEED YOUR SUPPORT!  Click here to sponsor me.