Five years ago this week, I ran my first marathon. I’ve shared before how I’m built with short, stocky legs and a stout body—not exactly a runner’s physique, less like a gazelle galloping through the woods and more like a pig on a treadmill.
Nonetheless, I completed my first marathon, which, to this day, remains the only marathon I’ve run.
The Dallas Marathon is generally a great experience. It usually enjoys favorable weather, has very few hills, and runs through beautiful neighborhoods, starting and ending downtown. The halfway mark wraps around White Rock Lake, which evokes a love/hate response among runners. The crowds have cleared out, it’s lonely, and you’re the at the furthest point out in the race.
Right after you curve around the lake, there’s a slight elevation that provides a clear view of downtown Dallas—13.1 miles away…and you have to run to get there.
For me, in that moment, in the middle of the race, I thought to myself,
“Maybe I could just collapse, and they’d carry me across the finish line. But would I still get the medal?”
We spent Thanksgiving in Missouri. We got to see family and long time friends. Our trip began with sunny warm weather where we were throwing the football around outside in shorts and t-shirts…let’s be honest, my kids only wear shorts…so this doesn’t seem to properly express the beauty and warmth of a Kansas City fall day…and then not many days later, our trip ended with 3 inches of snow in St. Louis. It was a beautiful time with people we love.
Between that first and last day, there were a lot of dark overcast days. It is inevitable this time of year, especially in the midwest.
Years ago I was a youth pastor in Kansas City and I had a commercial drivers license…yep…hard to believe. We were taking a group of students to a retreat weekend at a conference in Nebraska and as I was pulling into Omaha there was a strange sound from the engine. The bus didn’t stop, but there was a slight change in the power and a check engine light came on. I pulled up to the event, dropped off the students and leaders, and then parked the bus. I was sure when I would get back after the opening session it wouldn’t start…but to my surprise it started up just fine.
That night, I didn’t sleep because I was busy trying to diagnose what was the problem online. Now, I know I look like a mechanic…this may come as a shocker…but I am not.
The other day my son Keating came home from school and asked,
“Dad, who is your favorite prisoner held at Alcatraz?”
You know…I don’t know. I have not once in my life given any meaningful thought about the prisoners once held there, let alone which one is my favorite. I know vaguely that a few escaped and may have drowned…maybe…or may have lived the rest of their lives in secrecy and hiding…but I couldn’t tell you their names.
I knew that likely some infamous people in history ended up serving time there…but who they are, and who my favorite is out of all of them? Zero idea.
