This entire blog was a discovery and a commitment that the things that pass through my mind as I train for and reflect upon big-deal events shouldn’t be kept to myself and the family and friends close enough to hear my stories. Sharing here refines me as a person as I transcribe them, and it keeps me humble.
The concept of a race report has evolved. If you google “triathlon race reports,” you can find lots of places where folks dump their “Here is what I did. Here is what happened. Here is what I learned.” commentary. These writings now are a mini-part of history, and based on feedback I have received over the years, they make a difference to you.
Media tries to pull competition reports out of athletes during post event interviews, often before the athlete has processed what happened. When the camera is running, the athlete defaults to a script of, “we played a great team today,” or “We were able to maintain our focus,” comments, knowing good and well that whatever they say would be held against them. Truth be told, the athletes themselves have yet to formulate a coherent thought about what just happened. How can they? They haven’t debriefed in a safe environment with their peers and coaches.
When I watch my TV interview after my first World Championships, I see that I had no idea what I was saying. The only thing I remember was committing to return one day, with my wife in tow, as I know she would love Portugal and Spain. Hopefully, I will be able to honor that promise in 2019.
My race reports started when I got to participate on stages that I never dreamed of being allowed to stand on. The primary reason I put them to pen was to address the fact that I was telling different parts of the same story to many different people. And, my propensity to let my 2-foot-long fish to grow into a 3-foot-long fish by the end of the story’s third telling gets royally squashed when I put the details to pen.
A short and sweet race report often happens to my wife via text message after the event. “Race is over. Alex and/or I won our age groups. Going to Waffle house.” Sometimes, it takes the social form of a post on FB or Instagram. I like stupid poses the best-reflects my own blend of silliness and discipline. See above.
And yes, we really like Waffle House. And yes, we know that you just fired us.
However, it is over that meal at Waffle House when we discover what happened and what we can perhaps do differently next time, to get better. Amazing thing how such low-quality food cooked behind the counter can really change our thinking. I’ll take another hot tea, please.
I get asked, just like you do, ¨what did you do last weekend?”
As an endurance athlete at heart, my one sentence answers of distances traveled on bike and on foot can be viewed as prideful boasting or attempts to make a point. Indeed, many people don’t know what to do with my answers and often respond with something that parallels, “that sounds uncomfortable,” or “why would anyone ever do that?” Since I have had a couple of those responses in the last few months, I am writing this blog. You see, my answers are a part of my faith.
At the core of the question, “what did you do with your free time?” lies the fundamental assumption that we all are striving for either more comfort or to maintain the joy that which we have found. When they hear 100 miles of cycling or 50 miles of running, there is an unspoken conclusion that these events were NOT comfortable. Some normal people conclude that these events are a form of lunacy and create an outcome opposite of what would have happened if I had stayed with family at home. Dead wrong.
I have not built my definition of comfort on those worldly premises. Comfort is not a big house or an ever growing 401(k). Comfort is not safe physical spaces filled with people you love and wholove you back. As a Christian, I have a promise that following Christ will not be “comfortable” in the world’s definition. Indeed, Christ tells us that the act of following him will result in suffering, and sacrifice is an inseparable part of Christian identity.
I find “comfort” when I am stripped down to raw emotion, unfettered with my thoughts or current events. When my spirit and emotions are rubbed down to their barest of levels, I get insight into my own identity that doesn’t happen if I am going out to eat with family or working on yard projects. In my Christianity, this is called faith “like a child,” because it is unencumbered by the world’s opinion. I intentionally push myself to places that require heroic effort to reach. Women with children understand this journey. Women are quick and confident when they share how becoming a mother changed them more than any other life event. I have spoken to female endurance athletes who say the act of childbirth has much in common with endurance racing. The act of completing these tasks is cleansing and full of renewal. Unfortunately, more people see endurance racing like going to funeral rather than childbirth.
Like all endurance athletes, though, there is baggage associated with these extremes. There always is a “what’s next,” side to conversation with family, friends and peers, and it is nearly always assumed that there is a next one on the list. My wife is sure that I will never have enough of a challenge. She hears me say, ¨”I will NEVER run the Badwater 135,” and hears, “maybe he will one day.” It disturbs her. She gets upset that I will get hurt. She fears having a disabled husband who could have prevented the entire incident if he had just a bit more self-control.
Like most wives, she is right. But there is more to it.
For those of you who seek traditionally defined comfort, you are normal. But, do you really think that leaving behind an untested, well-preserved body is how God made you, or were his parables in the bible attempts at humor?
God tells a story in the book of Matthew called the parable of the talents. In this story, talents are coins, but meant to serve as an analogy for God given gifts. In the story, a master entrusts each of three different servants with a fixed amount of coins. Two of the servants invest their talents and yield a return. When the master returns and seeks accountability for the gifts, they show what they did with their talents. They are well received and respected by their master. However, one servant fears failure and the risk associated with a bad outcome. He chooses not to use his talent but instead hides them awaiting his master’s return.
These talents are symbolic of the gifts that God gives us, and our bodies are one of them. Using your body as God intended includes sacrifice and risking the unknown. The obesity rate in our country shows how far Christian sacrifice has been replaced with Worldly comfort for modern Christians. Using your body as it is intended to be used means that you must risk the unknown, and sometimes, that includes suffering. In addition to the childbirth analogy, the adage quoted in nearly every gym of “no pain, no gain,” is an indication that in the world of fitness, suffering is a pre-requisite to achieving growth.
I cannot find comfort by hiding my gift under the rock of safety. My faith calls me to find comfort in expanding my talents, and this necessarily includes using my body.
Risk aversion as a Christian is also problematic. If we look at the servant who took no risk, the master responds to him, calling him, “lazy and evil.” I have no interest in hearing that label applied to me on judgement day, considering who will be speaking it. Just like sacrifice and suffering, help minimize the risk of heart disease and diabetes, I have the ability to control the outcome by saying, “yes,” when others say, “no,” and “no,” when others say, “yes.”
I want to die knowing I challenged the shallow definition of comfort and took my commitment to my faith as intended. Last year, I feared both the Badwater Cape Fear and the Annapurna 100 Ultra Marathons. This year, I am doing two World Championships with my son watching me. Yes, I am scared, but that is a part of the reason I am doing it.
There is not enough space to write about the importance of asking what scares you and how it is impacting your choices to play it safe. The enemy wants you to play it safe. The enemy is looking forward to you putting your “you” under a rock and awaiting Jesus to return in glory. I, for one, am not going to listen to the enemy in this matter.
I can’t count the number of times I meet people in association with reading. As a traveler, I am keen to see the differences of a changing geography as it passes in front of me: new mountains, beautiful blue rivers, new coastlines, etc. Yet, a person reading a book in public seems to always get my attention. Indeed, starting a safe conversation about the contents of a book leads me to accidental introductions. Other readers whom I met unexpectedly often trigger my next reading project.
The unspoken story that is a part of seeing someone absorbed in a book, inspire me to do what I am doing, right now. People love a story. They love ideas to make them think, and they love the comfort of the idea be presented in the threat free environment of the book that they can set aside without offending anyone.
We live in a time when not offending people is perceived as nearly paramount. It stinks that challenging people is now confused and even equated to offending them. We are losing our culture.
Let me challenge you, though.
You feel an itch to write. Yes, you love reading. Yes, you love curling up with a book. Yet, you KNOW that there are barriers to writing that you can’t wrap your head around. The time required. The focus. The money. Did I mention the time?
Yet, the desire, however muted, lingers. Eines Tages. That is a German phrase I learned in college and use when I travel in Europe. It translates as “once upon a time,” or “maybe one of these days,” in colloquial English. I use it when someone presents me with a call to action that currently no place in my life to fit without me changing how I spend my day.
Before I started to write, Eines Tages was my phrase to handle the thought that perhaps one day I would write, once I got around to it. I would get around to writing that book..that blog…that story…that tale. So I told myself.
I had an unexpected and unpredicted athletic occurrence that started this blog. At first, writing was difficult, but I had a passion for it. After 60+ blogs, that passion remains. That, too, was an unexpected as the events that lead up to thoughts in training.
What do you have going on right now that has the ability to impact the future like a piece of your mind in the form of written words? That question hit not just my heart, but it provoked action. And you, my follower, are reading the result of that action.
Like all writers, I had to sacrifice to make writing a part of my lifestyle. My choice isn´t for everyone. I chose to work less. I decided to take a smaller paycheck in order to free up the time needed to write.
As I ask the question, “What is it that I like about the writers whose work I appreciate?” Is it THEIR story, or is it how they tell it? More often than not, I am drawn in by the story and not the words used. Looking into a mirror, I see that with my own writing. I like my stories more than the words I choose. I seldom write to get out a esoteric thought. I write to get out a story of a real event that impacted me. My stories seems to include bikes and running shoes for odd reasons.
The ultimate “why write” resides in writer´s ability to pass meaning from our current culture to the next one. I get a sense of responsibility when I see that my writings represent a part of our future’s history. God knows I don’t want MSNBC or FOX News to be the main entities who detail what the next generation thinks happened in the world or what was of interest.
Go pass it on. Go write something. Use paper or a computer and get the idea out. Even a rough draft can become a masterpiece.
Athletically, 2017 ended on a high note. My son attempted AND completed his first Ultra Marathon, as the last race of the year. I have so much gratitude as I review last year.
I didn’t get injured! Thank you, Pilates!
I attempted two difficult Ultra Marathons: Bad Water and Annapurna, and I was successful at both! I completed 5 Ultras in 2017-three years ago, I couldn’t run down the driveway without pain.
I PR’d a standard distance duathlon that just so happened to be a World Championships (WCH), after age 50! Yahoo!
I qualified for and signed up for a double World Championship in Denmark next year with my son. Two WCH in 2 days is exciting and requires a whole new sort of racing fitness that I have not ever tried to develop.
Success in 2018 will require a plan that addresses shortcomings and a plan to get better.
No one progresses in life without a deep dive into what could be improved upon and executing on a plan to get better. This year, I want to inject some of those philosophies into my daily plan.
To run faster, I need to incorporate not just more running, but more speedwork into my running. Too often, I train as if the next race is a marathon, and I head out for long, slow runs. Those long runs benefit a lot of body systems, but they aren’t enough, if the plan is to get faster. Starting in 2018, my 10-day training cycle includes 2 speed days, up from just 1. As I get closer to competition, I will increase that to 3 speed days.
To bike faster, I decided I needed a disk rear wheel, hopefully to grant me about 2 mph. I am already training hard and often on the bike, and the incremental increase with additional training would require more time than I invest today. That 2 mph may not seem like much, but it is a nearly 10% increase, and all it cost me was a pair of shoes. Long Story-I sold a pair of shoes in 2015 for some bitcoin. I sold the bitcoin in December 2017 and bought a Reynolds Rear disk with the proceeds. Yes, non-criminals are making money on bitcoin, too.
My weaknesses are flexibility and late-night eating. I am certainly doing nightly stretching, but I am also taking time during the day to do some basic stretching, as well. As a minor change, there is a part of Pilates class when I conveniently get up to go to the bathroom, as I hate rollovers. I have decided that I can’t become more flexible if I keep avoiding that which I do not like. I have since committed to staying in the class during rollovers. Sounds silly but doing what you don’t like is part of growing up. Isn’t that what we ask of others when we expect them to change their behavior? Can’t lead if you don’t practice what you are preaching, right?
As I have repeatedly blogged, we all need “why” behind what we are doing that isn’t about us, if it is to have an impact on others. My wife and I are down to one kid at home, our son Alex. Next year, the “A” event is the World Championships, followed by 3 days of serious trail running with my son in the mountains of Jotenheimen in central Norway. That will give me a period of 7 days when I engage in 2 WCH, then run 20 miles a day for 3 consecutive days. I am calling this my “A Week.” With this being my son’s last summer at the house before heading to college, this trip to Norway represents his high school graduation gift. I can’t express how grateful I am that he has embraced and even helped plan the events associated with our choice to go to Norway and see the home of Thor, Odin and the like.
I put off until last that which I am the least capable of doing something about, namely, late night eating. We eat an early dinner, then, something “happens” between dinner and bed and I get a serious case of the munchies. Sometimes, it includes wine, and that makes this worse! I have a couple of ideas:
Pre-portion out the late-night snacks, so as to prevent spontaneous binge eating.
Just say, “no.”
Give myself a couple of “free” days each week, say, on Saturday and Wednesday, when I can feel less constrained and restrain myself on the other days.
I am going with the first one…
What is you plan for 2018? What does it look like? Have you vetted it with someone you either trust or has shown evidence that they have overcome what you haven’t been able to?
More importantly, why are you doing it?
Good reasons, good plans, good feelings, good citizenship-they go together. Plan 2018 before Jan1, when the rest of the world attempts this task.
There is both art and science to reviewing and critiquing your work. Without question, I must (and you should, too) start with the measurable parts. These numbers come from trainingpeaks. If I did a some exercise and didn’t log it in trainingpeaks, it doesn’t count.
Running : 790 miles, covered in ~124 hours. There are some 5 minute miles in there, and some 20 minute miles. Should finish at 850 miles, as I have one more 50K Ultra to run.
Cycling: 3050 miles, covered in 166 hours. There are some 3 mph moments in there, as well as some 50+ mph moments. Should finish at 3200.
Pilates and Strength Training: 49 hours, 45 minutes worth of equipment and Pilates matt classes. This will finish at 54 hours (+/-)
Hiking with scout troop: 120 miles. That will get another 6 to 8 miles added this weekend. This hikes are pure fun, and I don’t include these efforts in my total time spent performance
Total investment: ~360 hours, not counting travel time, recovery or rest.
2017, by the Body. I get body fat analyzed most months. Between January and August, I watched my weight go from 173 to 176. However, my body fat started at 11% and ended at 8%. Even though I got bigger, I had less fat. I started with 19 lbs. of fat and ended with 14 lbs. of fat.
By the Events:
Duathlons: 4 (1 local, 2 nationals, 1 world). I love these events, but conflicts with other areas of my life prevented me from average more than one a quarter. I am an athlete, but I am also a scoutmaster, parent, husband, church leader and president of a company. Those all have a place, and, in general, duathlon took a back seat when compared to previous years.
Runs: 7 (4 Ultra Marathons, 2 half marathons, 1 10 miler). At the start of the year, the idea of 4 Ultras seemed crazy and painful. In retrospect, I learned more from doing these events than any other event this year. They challenged me and help me understand parts of me that I used to be far from my definition of self. OK, they can be painful….sometimes. My greatest achievements and fulfillment came from completing Ultras this year: Badwater and Annapurna. Uniquely difficult (running in the sand for 34 hours vs. running in the Himalaya for a day)
Cycling Events: 8. North Carolina is a great state to participate in organized cycling events. We have mountain rides that challenge your climbing and descending skills, and there is very little traffic where I live, making the idea of getting on your bike and heading out for a day of riding simple and comparatively safe to my peers in Europe or other parts of the US. Every time I get in the mountains and ride in the crisp cool air, I get a sense of gratitude that I pray I never loose. My backyard rides to Morrow Mountain and Albemarle are as good as any that I have done in the Pyrenees…even if not as long.
By the checkbook:
Total cost: $5114. After sponsorship, final out of pocket was $461. I include in my numbers gasoline, hotels, food and nutrition, cycling components, running shoes, bike shipping costs, parking, rental cars and any food I buy at the race venues. I use my credit card perks from frequent business spending to purchase airline tickets, so my airfare costs to travel to Bend, OR and Penticton, CA, were less than parking fees at the airport.
Many peers my age have, as their greatest non-work/family/community investment time spent watching TV. For comparison’s sake, my DirecTV bill for the year was $1300, about triple my fitness bill.
Let me share one sentence to ground it all.
I invested, on average, less than an hour a day in my fitness.
Sure, there were several 4+ hour days, and even one that exceeded to 12 hours. But the average investment was less than 60 minutes.
The return on investment: I am fit. I get all the benefits of being fit and having a broad combination of strength, power, and endurance. I get credibility when I speak about health and fitness, as I demonstrate and practice what I preach. I CAN act youthful, if not a bit silly, since my body let’s me. I stay healthy. I avoid injury that plague many my age. I don’t have to talk about doctor visits and prescriptions when I gather with friends. The high point of my day isn’t what I am eating for dinner. When I get together with family and friends, I don’t have downgrade the experience to playing board games and eating together. I can go outside and play/work/bask in God’s creation. I can touch my toes (sort of) and can let off steam by putting on a pair of running shoes and just going. I can eat a lot of calories without concern.
And, I have a resting heart rate of 32. It is worth an hour a day to get all this reward.
Next Year’s plan, as it sits today, is for 5 runs (a 3 day Ultra experience and 4 others), 8 duathlons and 6 mountain rides (that cost money). There will be some last minute additions. The current budget for this is $7300, as it includes taking my son to Denmark, as he gets to participate in his first world championship. I would like to see sponsorship make that go to $0.
And, I will continue to invest an hour a day and build my tall tales, places seen and races conquered, at age 52. I hope to have another 40 years of this in me, so I can be like Sister Madonna, and just keep going.
This is an old-fashioned race report, on a not so old-fashioned race. Indeed, it was the most unique race I have ever done. This was and is a bucket list event for any endurance athlete, and it deserves to be treated as such.
The race options were 50km and 100km. The 100k race uses all of the 50 km race, plus some extra running on the streets/flat of Pokhara and some additional running after reaching the 50k finish. I registered for the 50k. I will break it up into thirds, as that is how my mind perceives it, in retrospect.
To begin, the race director operated this race on Nepali time, meaning we didn’t start the event until 5:22 am, even though it was scheduled to start at 5:00. The first part of the race (15k or so), traversed a relatively flat section of the country before turning North and heading uphill into the foothills of the Himalaya. I would compare the “scene” to be similar to many other Ultra-marathons, in that there was variable scenery and terrain, lots of conversation and anticipation regarding the next check point/aid station (CP). As the sun rose over the south Asian valleys, we were treated to some crazy sights and sounds not to be found in the USA. Water Buffalo were making early morning cud chewing sounds, and random cows walked unobstructed on the trails and roads that we ran on. As we ran though villages on the sides of the valleys, children would step out from their houses and see what all the fuss was about, and sometimes, I would talk to them, and they would occasionally run with us. They were very much NOT ready to hear a white guy speaking to them in their native tongue, and I loved watching their faces as they go from mild shock to a big smile as they felt that they were participating in the race with us. There were several watering holes on the trail, and we watched women draw water from them, wearing their saris with tika on their foreheads. It was surreal.
There were two limiting factors that I unsuccessfully addressed in my choice as to how to run this first third. First of all, the roads were dirt based and intermittently covered in stones and not gravel. My feet alternated between landing on just dirt, just stone or a blend. The stones were of all sizes and shapes, and within an hour, the bottom of my feet were beginning to fatigue, as I had foolishly chosen to run without looking as to where my foot landed, thinking we would be off this terrain soon. Second, the course routed us through small tribal villages, but none of these villages had the Western equivalent of street lights. The paths were unlit, and there is no moon shining down the light the way this time of year, as layers of fog descend after sunset, and they don’t burn off until sometime after 9 am. By the end of this first section, my legs and lungs were strong, but by feet weren’t.
I had arranged with the race director to have three drop bags on the race, as I knew that I would need to change clothing a lot as a result of my prolific sweating-this was perhaps the only time that knowing how to speak the language made a difference, as no other competitor on the 50k had three drop bags. When we did arrive at CP4, I changed out of my soaked shorts and shirt, put on some new ones and downed a PBJ made with bread and PB that I had brought from home. It tasted so flipping good! As a treat, I also took my iPod from my drop bag, put it on, and started running with a woman from Slovakia.
That started the second section of the course. Within a minute or two, we were introduced to the steepness of the Himalayan foothills. During the first section, my pace had been between 8 and 9 1/2 minute miles; however, once we started on the first climb and I had to resort to run/walk, I could tell that my final pace would be a lot higher. Once we reached to top of the first climb, we were met with a 20%+ downhill walk to the valley floor where we crossed the river on a footbridge. We ended up using footbridges like the ones you see in pictures at least half a dozen times. This first descent made me acknowledge that I hadn’t adequately trained for descending. My knees began to ache before we hit the bottom and I was relegated to walking thoughtfully down slick rocks as we gave back a 1000+ feet of vertical over the course of a quarter of a km. When I hit the bottom, the effects of the fatigue were obvious in a way that concerned me, as I couldn’t run faster than a 9 minute mile on the flats.
Once we crossed a footbridge over a major tributary of the Ganges River, the climb was on! We climbed steadily for 7 km, and my pace never was faster than 20 minute miles. The surreal side of the race continued to impact me, as we would go through tribal villages occupied by Gurungs. Everyone in the village would have a cell phone with a data plan. I stopped at a woman’s house with another Nepali runner, and we struck up a conversation about meat as she filled my water bottles and offered me some buffalo yogurt to relieve my boredom and fill my stomach with some variety. Alas there were no bathroom to be found. Development in the third world takes so many forms…both good and bad.
There were a few moments that I was sure a old man in a walker could have passed me. Himalayan trails were not built with switchbacks in mind. When the trails require elevation change, they just go straight up or straight down. There is no way to train for this in the states, unless you live in the basement of the Empire State Building. That said, the Nepali nationals had an advantage over the Westerners in this section, and those guys whom I passed during the first third passed me and never looked back. The uphills were very manageable, but the straight downhill sections wore me out. The stairs that the villagers had put in were often slippery that time of day, and I watched many people fall down both during the climbs and the descents.
When we hit the final third, flat sections were not to be seen. Ben Looney and I were in the front of the American contingent from our group. I changed clothes one last time, and I felt great. However, with two climbs and one descent remaining, the weather took a change for the worse. The temperature dropped and rain started coming down. I was not equipped for being cold and wet. Ben had a raincoat with him, but I did not. I felt dumb and considered turning in my Eagle Scout badge, as I was anything but prepared. Instead, I improvised by going off the trail and entered a Gurung house, where Ben and I rested and waited for the rain to pass. Fortunately for us, no one was home, I didn’t have to explain what we were doing and drink a cup of tea. Within 15 minutes, the rain had stopped and the sun had come out. The temperatures quickly warmed and our spirits were again high. The climb to the final aid station was tough, but I knew that Ben and I were going to finish strong. I said a prayer of gratitude before having a bowl of soup at the last CP and starting the final descent.
We stopped to get some photos, as we could see the town of Sikles in the distance, and knowing that it was the finish line gave us lots of inspiration for the final push.
We “knew” that the final climb was labeled as the 7000 steps. I didn’t count, but it seemed like it was 70,000 steps. With about 3 km to the finish line, we concluded that we had already gone 50k, as we had gone off course a few times. It took us over an hour and half to cover the final distance to the finish line, and we were ‘escorted” into the town by young boys running ahead of us wearing only flip flops. We were were within 5 minutes on the finish line, I consulted with Ben, and we agreed to run to the finish line, whatever the trail was like. Crossing the line to a crowd of cheers and clapping made our day.
At the finish line, we were aware that the temperature had dropped. We gladly accepted our medals and certificates before changing our clothes and sitting down for a couple of bowls of hot soup before heading to bed.
My final ranking was 44th out of 106 competitors. I came in 20 in my category. My time of 12 hours 22 minutes translates to an average of more than 14 minutes per mile. Prior to this race, the longest that I had ever run was 9 hours, and my longest bike ride was 7 hours. The following day, I celebrated my 52nd birthday, and I couldn’t be prouder of this accomplishment. Slow but steady won the day. Only Ben and I out of a group of 6 runners were able to complete our races.
There are stories of people and places that will come later (maybe next?), for now, though, I can’t recommend this race for those who want to see what they are worth. It tests more than your strength and endurance. It tests your ability to focus as well as your capacity to overcome difficult moments that are an inevitable part of an Ultra.
Will I do this race again? Probably not-it is a lot like the Badwater. Then again, now that I had done something more difficult than Badwater Cape Fear, maybe I will do it again.
As I prepared to leave for Nepal to run the Annapurna100 Ultra-marathon, I was excited to have negotiated an entire row of 4 seats, all to myself, for the flight. I knew that having 4 adjacent seats would make it easy to sleep as we crossed both the Atlantic and Europe, en route to the Middle East. There is no amount of training or nutrition that can substitute for rest, and there is no chance that I will do well on an Ultra-marathon, at altitude, in a land known for the Earth’s largest mountain range, without good rest leading up the event.
Three hours after lift off, I found that the combination of movie watching and eating had made me sleepy. I stood up and headed to the bathroom before settling into my row of seats to get what I thought would be 8 hours of sleep. I was grateful that Etihad Airlines had agreed to allocate an entire row of seats for me with no one else sitting in them, and I was quick to share on Facebook using the hashtag #iloveetihad. It felt like I was flying first class.
The map showed that we were about to leave Canadian airspace and would be over Greenland within a hour. I visualized that I would wake up somewhere over Russia. I was so excited to be travelling to the land of world tallest mountains to run an epic race.
Unexpectedly, I woman in Middle Eastern garb approached me and started a conversation that mandated I come to terms with some malformed opinions from my past. This woman was a Syrian Refugee who was flying to the Middle East for back surgery. She was having difficulty walking, let alone sleeping, and she asked if she could have my 4 seats so she could rest and offered me her one seat up at the front of the cabin.
It would have been culturally easy to tell her, “no.” After all, had just negotiated for all those seats and had paid the price of the ticket. In that moment, I felt righteous in claiming that those seats were mine, and I had the full-support of Etihad, company that owned the transportation service. Instead, I found myself agreeing with the contents of a recent blog that all but connected the dots that to be a Christian is to be pro-Refugee.
“Yes, Ma’am, you can have my row of seats.” I picked up my headphones and water bottle and headed to my new single seat up front. I was feeling upset and self-righteous that my faith was mandating that I suffer, without any joy, when I did nothing wrong. For sure, this outcome wasn’t anywhere close to my expectations when i negotiated that row of seats just a few hours earlier.
“Thank you, kind sir!” I only sleep few hours, then I come find you and you sleep some hours. Is that item OK?” I knew she was translating from her native tongue into English, and she was expressing a plan that she thought was equitable.
“It must be OK,” I said with a giggle, knowing darn well that God uses moments like these to change people’s hearts.
I have had multiple bad experiences working with the local refugee community in Charlotte. I have found them to be more demanding than newborns In addition, they are unequaled in their inability to share gratitude with those who are trying to help. Lastly, they have demonstrated insensitivity to adjust to meet the demands of Charlotte’s culture. They have shown to me that they are OK not fitting in nor taking steps to improve their lot, no matter how much it hurts them to resist the change. To be succinct, I found it a waste of time to help them.
In Sunday school, we are discussing pro-life. Sure, it is nearly always associated with abortion rights, but leaving it only in that context is like saying food shopping is about buying desserts. The Pro-life position includes a stance with regard to special needs children, the incarcerated, the handicapped and even includes conversations on racism. God loves all life and has never shown any one group greater or lesser favor based on who they are.
In that moment, I didn’t want to give up my seats to a refugee. I didn’t know her circumstance or anything about the choices that she made that got her to the place where she needed back surgery. I made me question how the Good Samaritan felt when he, too, stopped and spent both time and money helping someone who had no ability to return the favor. I wonder if the Samaritan “wanted” to stop and help the guy who lay dying in the ditch that day.
She kept her word and came to trade back with me a few hours later. I slept for a few hours before we traded again. When we arrived in Abu Dhabi, neither of us were rested, but we were both better off than if we had regular seats on the flight. I knew that the only want to overcome any sense of resentment for the moment was to talk to her and get to know her a bit. I learned that she had one family member on the plane (sister, maybe), but she had “no more husband,” and based on her body language, it meant he was no longer living.
As we left the plane to go our separate ways, I lifted her up and prayer and thanked God for using that moment to change my heart, even if only a little. It wasn’t an accident that I read that NY Times article and had a real world refugee experience in the same month.
As I prepared to board the plane for my final leg of the trip from Abu Dhabi to Kathmandu (another 5 hour flight), I was met by a representative from the airlines who took my boarding pass from me and replaced it with a first class service, saying, “Thank you for your advertising.”
It is very tempting and certainly easy to think that this was coincidence based on worldly events. I know better. I walked down the Jetway crying like a boy saying, “good bye” to his mother as he left for military boot camp. I was just used by God…and I got to see it in near real-time. I got a moment in time when I made the world a better place, and it altered my heart, in the process.
I slept like a baby in a big seat that I didn’t have to share with anyone else on the final flight, and I arrived in Kathmandu, refreshed. My boys greeted me at the airport with flowers and hugs as we headed into town. We talked and joked until it was time for bed.
I am nowhere close to pro-refugee, but God is. And I see that now.
I am running the race of my life in three days. It is the high point and my “A” race of my athletic year. Yet, I am already sure that the greatest growth moment of this trip has already passed.