Friends are God's Way of Taking Care of Us

My Mom sent this to me and I thought it was really awesome. The following was written by a Metro Denver Hospice Physician:

I was driving home from a meeting this evening about 5, stuck in traffic on Colorado Blvd., and the car started to choke and splutter and die - I barely managed to coast, cursing, into a gas station, glad only that I would not be blocking traffic and would have a somewhat warm spot to wait for the tow truck. It wouldn't even turn over. Before I could make the call, I saw a woman walking out of the 'quickie mart building', and it looked like she slipped on some ice and fell into a Gas pump, so I got out to see if she was okay.

When I got there, it looked more like she had been overcome by sobs than that she had fallen; she was a young woman who looked really haggard with dark circles under her eyes. She dropped something as I helped her up, and I picked it up to give it to her. It was a nickel.

At that moment, everything came into focus for me: the crying woman, the ancient Suburban crammed full of stuff with 3 kids in the back (1 in a car seat), and the gas pump readin g $4.95.

I asked her if she was okay and if she needed help, and she just kept saying 'I don't want my kids to see me crying,' so we stood on the other side of the pump from her car. She said she was driving to California and that things were very hard for her right now. So I asked, 'And you were praying?' That made her back away from me a little, but I assured her I was not a crazy person and said, 'He heard you, and He sent me. '

I took out my card and swiped it through the card reader on the pump so she could fill up her car completely, and while it was fueling, walked to the next door McDonald's and bought 2 big bags of food, some gift certificates for more, and a big cup of coffee. She gave the food to the kids in the Car, who atta cked it like wolves, and we stood by the pump eating fries and talking a little.

She told me her name, and that she lived in Kansas City Her boyfriend left 2 months ago and she had not been able to make ends meet. She knew she wouldn't have money to pay rent Jan 1, and finally in desperation had finally called her parents, with whom she had not spoken in about 5 years. They lived in California and said she could come live with them and try to get on her feet there.

So she packed up everything she owned in the car. She told the kids they were going to California for Christmas, but not that they were going to live there.

I gave her my gloves, a little hug and said a quick prayer with her for safety on the road. As I was walking over to my car, she said, 'So, are you like an angel or something?'

This definitely made me cry. I said, 'Sweetie, at this time of year angels are really busy, so sometimes God uses regular people.'

It was so incredible to be a part of someone else's miracle. And of course, you guessed it, when I got in my car it started right away and got me home with no problem. I'll put it in the shop tomorrow to check, but I suspect the mechanic won't find anything wrong.

Sometimes the angels fly close enough to you that you can hear the flutter of their wings.

Maine to Florida Run for Ronald McDonald House

It was brought to my attention that tomorrow (August 27, 2008), a runner from Virginia Beach will be starting his run from Bangor, ME to Miami, FL. He is doing this in support of Ronald McDonald House (RMH). Below is a clip from his website that pretty much explains Tommy's passion for this and the RMH. It is very personally emotional for him.

http://runnerssociety.com/4millionsteps.html

Below from Tommy's website.

In The Beginning

Around about 2004 I got an idea about running from Maine to Florida and visiting as many Ronald McDonald Houses as I could along the way. The hope is to not only raise some much needed funds for such an outstanding cause, but to raise the awareness as well. See, I know just what a place like this means . . . unfortunately.

Back in 1998, my youngest daughter, Randi, was diagnosed with brain cancer a few weeks before she was to turn two. Randi's battle lasted 6 1/2 months before it over took her life. In that time my family was able to stay at the Ronald McDonald House in NYC.

Life spins seemingly out of control in these times and when things like having your family together, instead of being split apart, are times when you can breath and feel relaxed. With my wife staying with Randi in the hospital during the week and I staying with her on the weekend, things got stressful. However, when we learned that we could be together by staying at the Ronald McDonald House, believe it or not, there were moments where we had great memories.

You see, the doctors, nurses and the medications were there to treat Randi, the Ronald McDonald House was there to treat the whole family. That in the end is what motivates me to run 30 miles a day for weeks on end down the east coast.

There is an Chinese Proverb that goes:
If you want happiness for an hour, take a nap.
If you want happiness for a day, go fishing.
If you want happiness for a year, inherit a fortune.
If you want happiness for a lifetime, help somebody.

What are you doing for happiness? Me, I'm going for a run.

Art Monk Hall of Fame Induction Speech

If you didn't catch this a few weeks ago - take the time to view this. Probably one of the best acceptance speeches I have ever heard and an awesome use of "the world's stage" to speak the truth. I never knew much about Art Monk before his National Football League Hall of Fame induction but now I am a fan.

www.truveo.com/Art-Monk-HOF-speech/id/3630945818

A Teenager's View of Heaven

Although this is not running related, I wanted to add this to the blog as it is truly awesome. My Mom sent me this story via e-mail a few weeks ago. This is really worth the read when you have the time.

17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. 'I wowed 'em, ' he later told his father, Bruce. 'It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote..' It also was the last.

Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole.. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted

The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. 'I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it,' Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. 'I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him.'

Brian's Essay: The Room...

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order.. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read 'Girls I have liked.' I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named 'Friends' was next to one marked 'Friends I have betrayed.' The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird 'Books I Have Read,' 'Lies I Have Told,' 'Comfort I have Given,' 'Jokes I Have Laughed at .' Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: 'Things I've yelled at my brothers.' Others I couldn't laugh at: 'Things I Have Done in My Anger', 'Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents.' I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.

Often there were many more cards than I expected Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked 'TV Shows I have watched', I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked 'Lustful Thoughts,' I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content..

I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!' In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it.. The title bore 'People I Have Shared the Gospel With.' The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here.. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.

He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. 'No!' I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was 'No, no,' as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.

He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, 'It is finished.' I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

Badwater 2008

I went out to Death Valley last month to help my friend David Goggins race at the Badwater Ultramarathon. This race starts at the lowest point in the western hemisphere (Badwater Basin in Death Valley, CA) and runs to the highest point in the western hemisphere (Mt. Whitney).

David finished this race the last two years (3rd place in 2007 and 5th place in 2006). There is a really cool video of his 2007 race at: www.youtube.com/watch?v=LbwyEVb3hSo

Anyways - things don't always work out the way one wants. There is always a lesson to learn at any race - at any distance. Just like every day we live...there is always something to learn.

All the Best -

Ryan

McNaughton Park 150 Miler - April 10, 2009

I'm going back for a third time to finish the 150 mile course at McNaughton next year. My intentions are clear - I'm going back to win. After next year's race, we will have covered 600 miles during races on that course. I say "we" because I never go out there alone. I have a great crew and it looks like I will have most of them back in 2009 as well.

My friend David Goggins said that if I go back he will have to go back. I am glad to hear that and encourage anyone and everyone to sign up to run 15 ten mile loops on that course. I wouldn't do it if it wasn't fun.