Morning Run as Lesson in Humility

A long-time t-ball and softball player, my career was curtailed in 8th grade when I suffered what we thought was a severely sprained right knee.  I found out 20 years later that I had been misdiagnosed and really suffered from Osgood Schlatters syndrome, a tendon tracking condition in which the knee-cap will slip out of the groove created for it by the junction of the thigh and shin bones.  This condition is not correctable, though there are precautionary measures that can control symptoms.

In my 20's, I was in a physical altercation, and a hard shove resulted in my thigh bone slamming hard against my shin bone, causing the shin bone to split down the middle about 3/4" and crushing cartilage ~ in my left knee.

With 2 bum knees, it has been recommended by more than one physician that I give up running.  Combine this with the fact that I have rotated hips, and running is probably not the best choice of aerobic activity for me.

Yet, I stubbornly keep running.

And here's why.

Our very old, hand-me-down treadmill gave up the ghost this weekend, so until we can afford to replace it we run outside.  This morning, I went to the Westerville Athletic Complex, which has a 1.3(ish) mile paved multi-purpose trail.  One rule I adhere to without fail is that I CANNOT run on concrete, as this will totally blow out my knees, so I look for paved or dirt paths. 

My goal this morning was 3 laps, putting me close to the 4 mile mark.  Very early on in my trek, I made a mental note that this path receives full sun before the evening hours, and was grateful that the day's weather was very mild for June.  Next mental note to self ~ choose direction wisely.  One leg of the loop is tucked against a tree line, which blocks wind.  The leg directly opposite parallels one of Westerville's main drags, making it a virtual wind tunnel.  This morning, I was against the wind.  No worries, I thought, I could use the challenge.

The first 2 laps were great!  I was parched by that point, so I stopped momentarily at the car for a hydration break, and set back to the last loop, feeling already accomplished and determined to finish strong.  By the time I rounded the corner to the aforementioned "wind tunnel", my throat was dry and I was fighting to keep my breathing even.  The knees were holding up great, thanks in part to the Kinesio tape holding the caps in place, but the hip was starting to catch, and the discomfort was doing its best to convince me to slow down and walk the homestretch.

Let the self-pep-talks commence.  "Girl, you did not just run 3+ miles to WALK across the finish line!  You have a strong, healthy body and you can do this.  Just make it to that marker.  Now just make it to THAT marker.  See, you're almost there!"  Finally, I rounded the last turn and convinced myself that this last leg was the shortest.  I had probably done 3.5 miles by that point, so I could walk to the car from here.  NO!  I had not come this far to give up with the finish in sight.

Then I saw him.  In a grassy patch in front of my car, so I couldn't help but see him.  A man in a recumbent bike that was being safety checked by another older man.  I knew immediately that the man in the bike was a paraplegic, and the older man was more than likely his father, helping him set up for a morning ride. 

There I was, feeling the need to convince myself that my legs were strong enough to finish this race, and this man was beginning his own race without the use of legs at all.  As I was arguing with myself to finish strong, the look on this man's face told me that for him, there was no other option.  This man unknowingly was my inspiration to stop the self-pity party and "git r done".

I finished 3.7 miles in 38 minutes, albeit huffing and puffing and with an ache in my hip, but so much stronger and thoroughly blessed for it.  God slammed into me like a ton of bricks this morning, using this man to remind me that in spite of my own very real physical limitations, He has blessed me with a strong body that is really only limited by my state of mind.  Just being on the path this morning, doing something he probably does often enough that it is nothing extraordinary, this man truly blessed me, and had he not looked so determined in his purpose and been wearing ear-buds I would have told him so.  I love it when God uses people without them even knowing it to remind me that as His child I can finish the race.

Intro to Self ~ A Potential Essay Assignment

The following is a potential essay assignment posted for constructive critical review.  We are asked to describe ourselves as readers/writers.  Please comment if there are any language or grammatical errors, or, if you know me well enough, any suggestions.  Yes, this is for a college English course and my OCD is taking over.

Ariel Boyer:  Author and Random Book Enthusiast

I am a schizophrenic reader.  Topics of interest are often inconsistent and based solely on the mood of the day.  At times, the entire focus of reading is for the gain of knowledge, such as when my son was diagnosed with an obscure endocrine condition and I researched as much information as was available.   When reading is for pleasure, I cover a broad spectrum, from Dan Brown to Janet Evanovich, Christianity to Buddhism, irreverent fiction to snarky autobiographies.  In the last year, my book list has included “Pagan Christianity”, “Arguing with Myselves” (an autobiography by a ventriloquist), and “Assassination Vacation”.  My nightly devotion is often immediately followed by mindless comic strip collection books.

As a young reader, and life-long insomniac, I could stay awake all night devouring a good book.  High school reading, on the other hand, was torture due to a mild case of dyslexia.  Required reading never went well because of the strict timeline and the fact that more often than not the chosen book was of little to no interest to me.  Not a fan of the classics, “Watership Down”, for example, was particularly difficult as I simply could not get into a book that used a group of bunnies to illustrate the hardships of communism.  As an adult college student, required reading is still difficult, but I have usually chosen the subject, making task less painful.

The chaos that is my life does not easily lend itself to quiet time for reading or writing.  Time dedicated to such activities is usually restricted to times of waiting for the next demand of schedule – waiting rooms at doctors’ offices, waiting for my children to finish practice, waiting to fall asleep during an insomniac attack – or when anticipated and planned, such as a long bath or on the deck by the fire.

As a writer, I stick to the adage “write what you know”.  I do not so much journal as vent, not so much memoir as decompress.  Most of my writing is personal interpretation of life events, composed with a dash of humor and a pinch of wit.  Though, sometimes I shake up the recipe by substituting a dash of frustration and pinch of spite.  I do not consider myself to be especially creative or unique in idea, so fictional writing has never been of interest.  Life, however, fascinates me, and provides more than ample stranger-than-fiction material.

 Blogging is the outlet for my observations, vents and frustrations, and revelations to be unleashed to the curious reading world.  It is also incredibly therapeutic, as it lets me work through and organize the thoughts swimming around in my head.  When a situation seems to be getting the better of me, constantly nagging and refusing to quiet in my thoughts, blogging lets my mind sort through the jumble and reach some semblance of closure.

Generally, I enjoy reading on my own terms, and writing provides therapy more versatile and less costly than seeing a psychiatrist.

Revelation: Healing Hands

I believe in miracles.  Not just the ones that occur everyday ~ the creation of new life, the survival of teenagers, and the like ~ but the more magnificent as well ~ the terminal cancer patient's spontaneous recovery, the survival of teenagers, and the like.

Hand in hand with this, I believe in the spiritual gifts as made known in 1 Corinthians.  Admittedly, it has taken quite some time to accept the existence of these supernatural gifts, and even more time to move beyond being freaked out by the witnessing of some of the more extraordinary gifts (speaking in tongues, for example.)  But I have no doubt that believers have been endowed with individual spiritual gifting.  I do, however, doubt my own endowment.

As a massage therapist, I touch and facilitate the betterment and well-being of people every day.  I believe that I have been gifted with the innate ability to encourage a body to release stress, be comforted, and move toward healing itself through truly caring touch.  This is not the spiritual gift of healing.  My husband, by contrast, believes wholeheartedly that God had bestowed on me the gift of healing, but I have yet to fully embrace it.

Always, I have shrugged off my husband's conviction, claiming that I don't work miracles, I only do the best I can with what I'm given.  I do believe that on occasion, God has used me to administer a miraculous healing, but that does not prove possession of the spiritual gift ~ it only means that in that moment and for that body, He saw fit to work His miracle through me.  According to my husband, these are glimpses of the grander gift that I, for whatever reason, refuse to fully unwrap and recognize.

And then, I had an epiphany.

At Bible study, one of our group was dealing with serious hip pain, and it was suggested that the group pray over her for healing.  I put one hand on her hip, but said nothing audible as far as prayer.  As I sat there, hand on hip, silently praying, my mind began to wander (a common occurrence for this ADHD girl), and though the thoughts that came to mind had nothing to do with the immediate situation, they were enlightening, nonetheless.  When outward prayer concluded, and our "patient" was asked how she was feeling, she commented on how hot my hand had become.  I explained that heat exchange is a normal occurrence in body work, but she claimed that my hand had gotten much hotter than the others touching her during prayer.  This opened the door to my husband's soap box and led to discussion of my untapped spiritual gift.  When the group dispersed, I explained to my husband my revelation.

God has indeed blessed me with the spiritual gift of healing.  But I am unable to let the supernatural gift work through me.

And here's why.

Head knowledge.

Yes, academic, scholastic learning has hindered my ability to recognize the possibility of the miraculous.

Here is a perfect example.  During a recent women's conference, a video was shown of a women with an obviously short leg.  The shot was of her feet, one visibly higher than then other, being held by a small group leader who prayed only that she would know Christ's love ~ he hadn't specifically prayed for healing of any kind, only that she would know and feel Him.  Over a period of several seconds, we watched in awe as the higher foot dropped and eventually came even with the other.  Everyone in the video, and in the room with me, gasped and applauded the goodness of God's miraculous, healing grace...as I sat there physiologically analyzing and justifying what had happened.  "Maybe he was applying enough of a pull to her leg to release the soft tissue that had caused her hips to rotate and give the illusion that one leg was shorter."

Really?

This is what I do all the time.  The acquired book knowledge has me searching for a logical, anatomical, physiological explanation ~ and when one can't be found, I chalk it up to my own insufficient worldly knowledge.  I simply do not consider that the seemingly unexplainable connections could possibly be the divine at work.  What's worse is that even though I now recognize the stumbling block, I have no idea how to remove it.  How does one, to quote Yoda, "unlearn what you have learned"?

Thus, the battle for control of my healing ability rages.  And for the time being, academia has the stronger footing.  Reliance on book knowledge has served well over the years and, out of habit, is my first resource.  Unfortunately, it remains the only resource as I struggle to remember to consider that there is another greater resource more immediately available.

A Particular Person

There are some things in life that I will never understand.  Politics, for example.  The workings of teenage male brains.  My own mood shifts.  But most of what I am convinced I will never understand this side of heaven is the thought patterns of certain individuals.

There is a certain person in particular who has me perplexed at present.  This particular person is known to have mental problems right out of the gate, but that doesn't always mean the worst.  I've had my own run with mental illnesses, specifically PTS and depression.  This particular person's conditions are more deeply rooted than these, but again, never judge.  On the other hand, these conditions make this particular person harder to read (not the same as judge) and therefore more difficult understand at times.  Recently, I have needed to let go of my relationship with this particular person.

This particular person believes that I have had a hand in ruining their life.  This particular person's parents believe the same, but for different reasons.  Through the grapevine it has come to light that both this particular person and the parent have been voicing in no uncertain terms their discontent with me.  Yet, this particular person contacted my husband to ask his opinion of whether they should ask me to get together, they really miss me.  Really?

First of all, what part of "I'm done" was unclear?  Second, if this particular person believes so strongly, as do other people in their life, that I am even partly responsible for several months of trauma, why on earth would they want to be anywhere near me?  So I can continue to be the blame for the after effects of recent events?  Do they really miss me or do they miss someone paying attention to them, having someone they know will be available to drag into the drama of life?

For better or worse, I have stopped trying to figure this particular person out.  I am at peace with the fact that I will never understand this particular person, and perhaps I'm not meant to.  I would love to see this particular person happy in life, but obviously any happiness we may have shared along the way has been shoved to the side to make room for blame.  I do not presume to guess what would make this particular person happy, since I simply don't understand.

Revelation: Ironic Blasphemy

Most people who associate with my husband and myself at his point in our lives know that we are believers and followers of Christ, and that we are working toward planting a church in our community.  People who knew us years ago and have fallen out of touch will most certainly stare slack-jawed in disbelief.  Though we were both raised in faith, we both turned away as teenagers ~ Josh doing a complete about-face/forward-sprint.

I first met Josh at the Ohio State Fair (insert hillbilly remark here) as part of the Youth Choir.  Anyone who has ever been in a high school choir can attest that religious songs are inescapable.  Being the jaded, spiteful teenager he was, Josh played a fun little game with these songs.  Whenever the name of God appeared in the lyrics, he would insert his own name.  "Shout to God"  became "Shout to Josh", "How Great Thou Art" was parodied to "How Great I Am".  I may have turned my back on church, but I still believed in God, and though I did giggle when I first heard this, I then asked if he realized he was going to hell.  In his young life, he could have cared less.

Very recently, Josh was given the opportunity to preach at a friend's church.  To illustrate a point, he recounted this little story.  More than 15 years have passed since were members of the Youth Choir, and we have told this story hundreds of times.  I'd even heard it in the car on our hour drive as Josh reviewed the sermon.  But for whatever reason, as I was halfheartedly listening to my husband preach (remember, I had already heard this an hour earlier) I was struck by the irony of this story.

My husband's name is Joshua.  The Hebrew translation of this name is Yeshua.  The Greek translation of Yeshua is Jesus.  "Shout to God" ~ "Shout to Josh(ua)" ~ "Shout to Jesus".  Without even realizing it, what was intended as blatant unbridled blasphemy suddenly became an ironic acknowledgement of the greatest truth.  The names of God the father and God the son were being used interchangeably, making the profession no act of blasphemy at all.

In hindsight, I'm bummed that I was not mature enough in my spiritual walk to see this at that age.  I would have enjoyed pointing this little tidbit out to him.  I'm also bummed that it has taken more than 15 years to become mature enough in my spiritual walk to see this.  Though Josh appreciated the irony when we talked after the sermon, it would have been much more satisfying to point this out to the atheist.

A Study in Job ~ Personal Reflection 1

Is it possible to love God for God's sake, and not merely for the benefits of being faithful, even when there are benefits?  What if these benefits are all removed and one is left with no benefit but God alone?

Though I am certain that I have not yet reached this point in my faith journey, I have to believe it is possible.  People who are not raised in faith, or who turn away down the road, oftentimes need to sink in the muck and the mire at the rock bottom of their lives to turn to God for what they will get out of the relationship.  Even those raised in faith are essentially bribed with the benefits of serving the Lord.  A person could live a completely selfless, God-centered life with the self-centered underlying intent of his own eternal reward.

Yet, personal experience leans toward the possibility of loving for loving's sake.  I have warred with both of my siblings over the years.  At points, neither of them have been people I would have willingly invited to share my life.  I have not liked them, harbored anger and animosity toward them, but I have always loved them, for no other reason than they are my siblings.  In this way, I believe it is possible to love God simply because He is God.  The benefits then become icing on the cake.

Energy Vampires

People are often amazed at how much training massage therapists have in the state of Ohio.  Here we are regulated by the state medical board, and I'm told the requirements to sit for the Ohio massage board exam are some of the highest in the country.  I have somewhere around 300 clock hours of anatomy and physiology training, over 200 hours of massage theory ~ which includes physical and emotional benefits of massage as well as the techniques ~ and 40 hours of hands-on experience in a student clinic.  Several classes were dedicated to introducing students to the many different massage modalities and complimentary treatments, like Reiki, reflexology, infant and prenatal massage, and spa treatments.  These were the general requirements when I went to school 10 years ago.  I hear it told that now the number of hours required for graduation has increased and courses like pathology and advanced techniques have been added.  I feel a little gypped.  Pathology would have come in handy.

But, I'm not complaining. The ergonomics training has come in very handy.  Learning how to properly position and utilize our bodies for the physical work of massage so as not to burn out was one of the least interesting but most useful classes.  I want to say, but can't say for certain, that it was in this class that we discussed "energy vampires".  This is exactly what it sounds like ~ people who suck the life out of you.  I have been incredibly fortunate that in 9 years of practice I have come across remarkably few of these patients.  Some of them are unrealistically demanding in what they expect from their session and the drain comes from trying to accommodatingly fit it all in.  A few of them are never going to be happy with your work no matter what you do for them because you are not the person who does it the only way they like it.  More of them are just so unhappy with life in general that they spend the entire session voicing their discontent, seeming to attempt to drag you down with them.  Sound like anyone in your life?

It never ceases to surprise me where my massage training will end up being useful.  When our oldest son was 6 and diagnosed with an endocrine condition, it was my anatomy training that helped me to understand the dr's explanations.  In discussing medical symptoms with friends I can sometimes point them in a direction to look for answers, even when I don't have them.  And every now and then, I can teach someone a technique to help their or a loved one's pain pattern.  But I never would have guessed how much the "energy vampire" discussion would carry over.

Ordinarily, I am a high energy person.  I put out quite a bit of energy all on my own without needing anyone around to suck it up.  So when I have a drain on my already fast-depleting stores, the toll can be large if I am not vigilant.  And when multiple drains are swallowing at once, the toll can be devastating.  This is why we are taught how to put up an energy force-field, so to speak ~ a semipermeable wall that lets our energy work but prevents the negative energy from hitting too hard.  The double-edge to this sword is the amount of energy required to keep up the barrier.  In 9 years, I have become accustomed to handling this shield for the length of a session.  However, in life, this shield has the potential to buckle under the weight of several negative energy influences, and eventually implodes on itself as a result of the constant bombardment of energy parasites.  Welcome to my current state.

Unfortunately, the only recovery from this exhaustion is rest and reprieve, which are ever elusive in my life.  In my work, one positive, or at least neutral, energy session is enough to clear out negativity and allow rest for the next high-energy demand.  In my life, however, recovery is not so quick or simple.  Depending on the severity of the bombardment, it takes time to push the negativity out of my space, more time to recharge positively, and more time still to rebuild the wall.  This is often prolonged by the fact that the energy drains often refuse to be removed entirely during this process.  It's like a baby nursing from an exhausted, malnourished mother.  The baby will take what it needs without regard to the mother's own physical requirements, and gives the mother's body no time to rest and replenish, to restock the stores to the point of sustaining them both. It is usually here that the mother turns to other means of nourishing her child (formula supplementation) so that her body can heal.  When she is well, she can then fully care for herself and her child. 

I am now exhausted and malnourished, physically, mentally, and even spiritually.  It is here that I need to relinquish the draining relationships to others who can sustain them and allow myself to replenish and rebuild, to heal and become well again.