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Turkey Trot

Turkey Trot

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When I was in the seventh or eighth grade, I thought I was a pretty good sprinter.  I remember a track meet that was held at the Shore Regional High School, between the four  elementary schools that fed into the regional high school.  My event was the 100-yard dash (and maybe a 400 relay as well, not sure I remember).  I was in the second group of runners, sort of the “B” team who were not quite as fast as the “A” team.  I remember sitting in the bleachers waiting for my event.  The week before I had heard or read something about how sugar can give you a burst of energy, and so thinking this was a good idea, I snuck a couple of Hershey bars in the waist band of my gym shorts with the plan of ingesting them prior to my event.  This was brilliant, I thought, kind of like giving a racehorse Lasix before their big maiden debut.

The problem was that when I went to get my Hershey bars from the waist band of my gym shorts, I discovered they had melted and as a result my plan was foiled.  I had to throw my Hershey bars away.

Ah, it probably wasn’t a good plan anyway.

Though I am not 100% sure, I believe I won my heat but got smoked in the finals running against the “A” top finishers.

I came out of it with a medal anyway, and a lesson on stuffing Hershey bars in the waistband of my gym shorts in June.

In high school, I let my athletic aspirations be second to growing my hair long, listening to music, being interested in girls, and doing other things I shouldn’t have been doing.

I suppose there was a lesson in that as well.

 

Later in life, I picked up running again.

Which came in handy when I met Kim because she was a runner too.

I think our running peaked in 2014.  I would be turning 58 years old that June and had a goal of completing a half-marathon.  That Spring and Summer, we did as many ten-milers, 10 Ks, 15 Ks, and 5 Ks as we could find.   And I completed my half-marathon that April, participating in the Long Branch Half Marathon in New Jersey.

It was great, but I think the best thing to come out of that experience that year was that I finally got over my fear of writing and having someone other than me read the words I had written.  That year I wrote a weekly blog called “A Happier, Healthier Me” as part of the job I had at the time.  This led to my Musings starting in January of 2016.

I haven’t run much at all in the last ten years.  Walking, maybe, but not even walking as much of that as I should.

This week, while driving through downtown Herndon, I saw a sign for the Herndon Turkey Trot on November 22 at 4 PM.  I thought the 4 PM time was a little odd, it started to get dark around 4:30, but when I got home, I decided to look it up online, thinking it might be fun for Kim and me to do.

I learned the race was open to ages 4 and up.

The first 400 pre-registered got a long-sleeve T-shirt.

Registration cost was $40 each.

But here was the kicker…runners had to complete the course in 45 minutes or less.

I thought, well, I don’t really need another T-shirt.

And $40, $80 for the two of us is a lot of money on my current budget.

But, here was the real issue, I didn’t think I could finish the course in less than 45 minutes.

The 5 Ks Kim and I have done the past few years, we have walked.

And though I know there is all that pre-race adrenaline, with the gear on, and the number, and the pre-race stretching going on, there is also the possibility of humiliation.

But let’s face it, it’s not the tee shirt, it’s not all that camaraderie, it’s not the post-race bananas and free Gatorade…it’s the self-satisfaction you get when you just finish.

So, I thought, who needs all that?

I just needed to prove to myself I could complete a 5K in 45 minutes.

 

I heard a sermon this week with a guest speaker who was a successful businessman, and he was talking about failure and the rewards one gets from the lessons learned from failure.

He only admitted to failing twice in his lifetime, which I thought was a bit of a stretch.

But good for him.

I thought, gee, if failing was the ticket to success in this life, I should be the King of the Universe right now.

But I understood his message: don’t let failure stop you, don’t give up, keep striving, and in the end, you will be a winner.

 

So, this morning, I went up to my closet, dug out the running tights that used to make my kids cringe, put on some running layers, got my running gloves, and my hat, and like a gladiator leaving the tunnel and entering the Colosseum, I opened the garage door, and strutted out into the public.

But before all that, remembering the Hershey bars in the waistband of my gym shorts, I ate one of the Baby Ruths and the Butterfingers my son-in-law Leon had sent me packing with in a zip-lock bag the other evening.

Now, using the stopwatch feature on my smart watch, I hit start, and off I went.

Kim and I had already established a three-mile route so I knew where I needed to go.

Through the neighborhood and down to the Sugarland Trail, I thankfully only encountered one neighbor.

Crossing the creeks carefully, I plodded along, breathing heavily, one foot in front of the other.

Checking my watch, just a few times, it seemed my pace was too slow, but picking up speed seemed like a long shot.

“Who has the Lasix?” I thought as I was approaching the last creek crossing and facing the all uphill last quarter mile back to my garage door.

Taking small steps, but moving steadily, I approached my driveway.

Not to be deterred by failure this time, I thought I would just take the weekend to recoup and as the message said, try again on Monday.

When I hit the garage door, I looked at my smart watch stopwatch and the time said…

Forty-three minutes and seventeen seconds.

There was no big timer waiting for me, no cheering crowds behind the string of flags and traffic cones, nobody to take my photo crossing the finish line…

But it was all good.

Breathing heavily, my heart pounding, a little pain in my chest, through the garage door I went into the house, while I waited for the ambulance to arrive.

No, just kidding about the ambulance, I actually felt pretty good.

And proud of myself that I proved I could run the Herndon Turkey Trot in the required time, and since I didn’t need another tee shirt and I don’t want to spend the fory bucks, I no longer had the need to run the Herndon Turkey Trot 5K.

Because today, November 21st, at approximately 12 PM:

This Turkey…

Former member of the “B” team…

Not the King Of the Universe..yet

And definitely qualifying as “ages 4 and up”…

 

Trotted.

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

That’s me in 2014 with my Team Move For Hunger teamates at the Long Branch Half Marathon
Finding Grace

Finding Grace

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Would You Like A Lime With That Week Fifty Nine!

“The fear of death is gone…because what Christ did for me on the cross.   I’m saved by the grace of God…the person that faces Christ straight out and totally rejects Him will pay a fearful price…it’s separation from God and that in itself will be Hell…the person who rejects God in a sense is already in Hell in this world.”  (Billy Graham)

 

Already in Hell.

In this world.

 

Kim and I listened to an old Johnny Carson interview with Billy Graham from the early 70’s over the weekend.

Mr. Graham went on to say that at the time, 99% of Americans said that they believed in God.

That was 1973.

That’s changed quite a bit.

More recent surveys put that number for younger adults at less than 50% and for those 18 to 29 as low as 43%.

That’s a lot of people.

 

“Already in Hell in this world.”

 

I overheard my almost son-in-law Leon make a comment one day after hearing someone in his neighborhood click their car remote to lock their car doors.  In this case, he heard the car horn beep multiple times and said something like “Geez, do you have to do it eight times? Once is enough!”

 

Ah, Grasshopper, I thought to myself, you don’t understand.

Someday you will.

There is a reason that some of us need to hit that button more than once.

First of all, we can’t hear the beep.  Old folks push the button, then when we don’t hear anything, we push it again, and again all the time walking closer to the parked vehicle outside in the street until the comforting sound of the horn is confirmed.

 

Then, there is the fact that sometimes, we just don’t remember.

It’s kind of like taking a shower and not remembering if I washed that body part or not…

“Okay I’m done…wait, did I wash my feet yet?  I don’t remember! Ah, shoot I better wash them again just in case.”

It’s the same with locking my truck

I push the button and then moments later I think…

“Did I lock my truck doors?”

“I don’t remember…ah I will just push it again…and maybe I better walk towards it until I hear the horn just to be sure…”

 

Then there is also that inclination to believe that more is always better.

It comes from growing up and not having everything we think we should have had and the need to overcompensate  for that as adults.  We are determined to quell any doubt that what we set out to do, is accomplished. We have to get that last beep in.

“Ha!  I will make sure those darn doors are locked! I am going to push the button again! And maybe a couple more times to be sure! And maybe I should walk towards it until I hear the horn to be extra sure.”

 

 

This is kind of a weird week for me.

In one respect, a rite of passage in some sense, a graduation of sorts, into a new generation, an older generation.

Confirmed by the fact that I got my first Social Security check this week.

And my Medicare card is in the cabinet (though it’s not good until June).

 

But by contrast, I was also reminded that this week seven years ago I ran my first and only half marathon through the streets of my hometown of Oceanport, New Jersey, and neighboring Long Branch in the Long Branch Half Marathon on Team Move For Hunger.

What a difference seven years can make.

In 2014 I was fifty-seven about to turn fifty-eight.  This year I am sixty-four about to turn sixty-five.

And I have a Medicare card in the cabinet.

Half marathons I am afraid might now be just a thing of my past, serving only to make for nice Facebook memories.

I remember running over the Pleasure Bay Bridge, leaving Oceanport and entering Long Branch and catching up to this young lady who was running even slower than I was.  I remember thinking wow good for her to be out there doing this event, she didn’t have your typical runner’s body, in fact you could say she was a bit overweight and not someone you might expect to be out running a 5K, let alone a half marathon.

So we struck up a little conversation as we began the incline that was the Oceanport side of the bridge and I explained to her that this was my first half marathon and I expected her response to be the same.

But it wasn’t.

No, she said, “I try to run one of these a week. Yeah, last week I was in (someplace I don’t remember where she said) and the week before that I was in (someplace else).”

“Wow”, I said “Good for you!” and with that, I took advantage of the downhill Long Branch side of the bridge and increased my pace.

As I left her behind, I felt silly for my assumption and a little humbled as well.

I judged her.

And that was unfair and I was totally incorrect in my assumption.

 

 

Believe it or not, Kim and I still have our Christmas tree set up in the living room.

No, we didn’t forget to take it down.

I am not that far gone yet.

Apparently, I purchased such a cool-looking artificial tree that this year,  once we took the ornaments off, it kind of blended in with the rest of the forestry in my living room and became kind of fun to have.

And this week is also special to me because Saturday is the running of the Kentucky Derby, therefore this week is “Derby Week.”

So since I had the tree already up I decided to decorate it for the occasion.

I even made my meatballs already.

 

And finally, this week, after eleven years of non-production, The Little Chickens Winery fired up what will be the next vintage of Little Chickens Cabernet Sauvignon 2021.  Hopefully no snowstorms on bottling day this time.

 

 

So, for the most part, I am enjoying this week.

I am not running any half marathons but I am moving around as much as my aches and pains allow me to.  I will at least want to wait until my Medicare becomes active should I ever attempt to run another half marathon, I might need the hospitalization.

And as for you Grasshopper, my new soon-to-be son-in-law, patience.  You too will learn that with age comes wisdom…but also the need to hit the lock button multiple times.

And it is also true that with age and wisdom, more people come to God in their older years.  Maybe it is the desire to not fear death, maybe it is the desire to just accept the Grace of God and enjoy the happiness of inner peace…finally.

I hope that is true.

Because like my humbling experience of unfairly judging someone for the way that she looked, whether you are already in Hell in this world or not, nowadays, we still seem to do a lot of that.

Judging that is.

 

And so, I hope you watch the race on Saturday.

I hope you enjoy this nice weather.

I hope you relax with your beverage of choice and maybe eat a meatball.

I hope you get your vaccine and take your mask off while dining outside at a restaurant.

I hope you remember that you already washed your feet and lock your car only once.

 

But most of all, I hope you find grace.

 

 

Postscript:

The photo above is from April 27, 2014 before the start of the New Jersey Marathon and the Long Branch Half Marathon and includes the Move For Hunger Team including Coach Emily Cebulski in the center.

It’s hard to believe it has been 59 weeks since the pandemic officially kicked off.  Get your vaccine!