My Bittersweet Long Walk

Enjoying Re:Train today. It's awesome to hear Justin Holcomb, Dave Bruskas, and Dave Helm.  They were very helpful.  I also had the privilege to give Peter and Amy a backstage tour of the Ballard Campus of Mars Hill.  They got to see how all the production gets done and the reason behind the way we do what we do.

But this week was an amazingly illuminating week:  I am selfish.

On Thursday, I officially handed off Church Cleanup to Skyler.  I have led the ministry since March of 2010.  Wow 18 months of leading the best group of servant leaders in Mars Hill.  I saw men and women go from shy first-timers to deacons, community group leaders, and Sunday team leaders.  Honestly discipleship was the best part of what I had the chance to participate in.  Pointing people to Jesus and seeing him transform them, it's the best.  People like Mike, Rod, Abby, Ginni, Woodstock, Red Bird, Fried Chicken, King Raven, Paper Crane, King Fisher, Blue Heron and all the rest (we used bird-based radio call signs).  They saw what worship looks like and they joined our little community to serve.  None of these volunteers will ever be put on stage and recognized for their selfless service, but they all deserve it.  I love these guys and gals and I was sad to leave them.  I desire for all of them to continue to make progress and grow in their faith. As much as I'd like to stick around, Skyler needs his space to own this ministry and serve these people.  I plan to be a consultant and serve him as needed, but now it's his baby. There were 33 people who came out to serve on my last night.  This is a great sign for our Fall push!
Every time I start a task, ministry, or friendship my goal is always to finish well.  I am so honored to have done just that in my conclusion to leading Church Cleanup (this is what my leadership told me, I'm not assessing myself).
I felt a desire to hold onto the ministry last night.  It's like I wanted to keep this role all for myself rather than giving it over to a great guy who loves these people.  I wanted to be selfish.

That same bittersweet night I also received a very gracious email from a friend who affirmed and redirected our friendship, yet again I felt a drive for selfishness.  What about me? To quote Pastor mark, "What about you?!"  I am really not that big of a deal.  God is a big deal, but I really think too much of myself. I mean who am I? Just another short brown kid from yet another broken home who grew up off food bank skim milk and the neighbors' extra peanut butter. God has brought Luke 22:1-23 to mind.  Pastor Dave Bruskas preached this section on August 28th.  Basically this section shows how Jesus' plan is better than my plans. Even if literal death (like the horrible death of Dave's little boy) or a figurative death is the next step.  His plan is better than mine. I am trying to believe this, but God will need to work more in my heart. I'm not saying that I am worthless and have no future.
I guess I'm just saying I need to be realistic and know my place.  After all, the definition of the word humility is literally "to know ones place".  Oh, but please don't think I'm in any way humble.  If I have ever come off as humble, just wipe that brief moment out of your mind; it was likely a deception designed to make me look pious.  Hmm, that might be the first and last time I ever use the word pious.

So with the misty feelings and fond memories being replayed in my heart, I walked all the way home to West Seattle. I put my trip into Google Earth and it said it was 11.8 miles.

I must have been walking slowly because it took me 4 hours 21 minutes to complete. I started at 11:03PM, after locking up Ballard for the last time. I just needed time to think.  Down near the Victoria Clipper, I stopped and watched a Great Blue Heron stealthily stalk fish and quickly swish in to make an amazing catch. Down past the China Shipping piers, I stopped again to chat idly to a feral cat with the foam of rabied maddness dripping from its mouth. I walked past no less than two dozen scattered homeless men and their assorted gunna. I watched a road crew clear out last year's collection of beer bottles and refuse from the little fishing spot on the Duamish River.  I walked around a gang of drunken men who had just come out of the bars and were starting to slur and sling arguments over whose motorcycle went faster.  My walk reminded me of a song by Atmosphere, Shhh:

This is for everyone around the planet
That wishes they were from somewhere other than where they standin'
Don't take it for granted, instead take a look around
Quit complaining and build something on that ground
Plant something on that ground, dance and sleep on that ground
Get on your hands and knees and watch the ants walk around

I love the patch of dirt that's mine, regardless of the hard stuff I need to wrestle with from time to time I've still got a hope and someone to talk it all out with.  But dang it! My selfishness is absolutely ridiculous.

So today I gave up the Church Cleanup set of keys to Mars Hill Ballard.  This ends my era. As I listen to some great Re:Train teaching, I must conclude that life sucks so hard and is really pretty fantastic at the same time.

The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments ['cause life goes quick, you blink and you'll miss it]

Mount Adams We meet Again...For the First Time

Miles: 598.6
Miles Hiked: 13.1
Miles Glissaded: 3.5
Group Size: 10

I apologize for interrupting the Alaska account, but I just got back from Mount Adams (the same one I summitted twice in a week last summer) and it was a whale of a time! Well, it was more of a large volcano covered in loose ash, pumice, basalt, and ice; kinda less like a blubbery mammal.
So with 5 days notice on Facebook and The City, I got 9 other folks to join me on a summit attempt. I just got back from Alaska, so I didn't promote very well.
Matt and I left Seattle at 10:30AM on Friday after packing up. We pounded a Monster and Code Red and plunged into Eastern Washington, stopping only to marvel at a Super Wal-Mart. We arrived at the Ranger Station for the Gifford Pinchot National Forest at 4:30PM and got our fancy Human Waste Bags (you must pack out all your "contributions" from the national forest) and paid the $15 fee for all 10 folks.
On the access road out to the trail head, we pulled over and performed conflict resolution tests on an unsuspecting tree. My ears rang until after we got back from the hike.

After getting turned around, we finally got to Cold Springs Camp Ground and setup the tents. We spent an hour-and-a-half gathering wood and had a massive pile ready for when the 2nd and 3rd wave of hikers arrived. We then wandered off and decided that we had better use the axe we brought. So we tried to fell a dead tree. We tried 4 different trees and failed four times. This forest is not a tall forest, but rather a tough forest that is buried under snow 9 months out of the year. Conditions like this ensure that only trees with superior toughness survive, thus the cellulose fiber composition is particularly dense...At least that is what I told myself when I failed to fell the fourth tree. I am kind of like a Corgi, my torso is average size (except not), but I have itty-bitty legs; not unlike Ray William Johnson. Those proportions don't lend themselves to logging.

 So after failing, Matt and I lit the fire with a little "cheating juice". We then laid on the ground and watched 4 satellites sail across the sky and 3 meteorites burn their way across the moonless night. Once I knew the 2nd wave and 3rd wave folks were close I started the bacon...We cooked 8 pounds of bacon (1/2 a pound was lost in a friendly-fire event) and enjoyed every severely or moderately scorched piece. Mad props to Michael Frank, he totally rocked his bacon. The grease fire raged, but his came out perfect.

We retired with a little wine, and I starred at the tent's ceiling for 5 hours until it was time to wake up, but the insomnia gave me a nice opportunity to pray through some stuff.
Saturday morning we hit the trail at 7:37AM (after pictures and my little overview of the route). We made great time up to Echo Bowl (with the non-existent wind the echos were particularly good) and shouted "Echo!, Are you ready to Rumble?!, 'Merica, A British Tar!" for a while.
Nick set his own pace and nine of us jumped ahead to rest at Lunch Counter (9025ft). Joel found a Tungsten wedding ring sitting in the wind shelter. Either some recently divorced dude chucked it or a raven snagged the shiny "Ring of Power" off a rock while someone was applying sunscreen.
Once we broke the break, I was the first one on the slog-slope. Now let me tell you about this slope. It is nasty. It is cruel and it is mean. In about 1.5 miles of travel, you gain about 1,950 feet on slippery compacted snow and ice. You are completely exposed to the wind and the glare off the pure china-white combined with the noon-day radiance usually come together to fry, freeze, and exhaust even the most avid hikers. For a sub-par hiking pretender like myself this slope destroyed me. Now let me brag on God, he totally hooked all nine of us up, there was NO WIND!. Seriously none, I cannot emphasize how rare that is especially at 11,000ft (3,352m for my British cousins).
So even though I left first, I arrived 3rd to last. I was wrecked by that slope. Greg and Melissa decided to enjoy a lovely nap at Piker's Peak instead of summitting, I can't blame them, the windless false summit at 11,657ft might be the most romantic place in North America to spend an hour-and-a-half visiting with your beloved.

The story with the name for the false summit is kinda like those demotivational posters you might have seen.  Nick's favorite is this one:

7 of use tried for the summit and we all made it. Matt gave me some kind encouragement as he passed, and I really needed it. On the last 900ft from the valley between the false summit and the true summit I became enraged. Some freakin' joke of a man was cussing out his wife (or girl friend, or sister).  He started swearing at here after they had passed me and were 300ft below and descending. Man I get so angry when a man rages at a woman. He was blatantly violating 1 Peter 3:7 (a verse I have been meditating for a few weeks), he showed no honor and was not understanding. I'm not gonna lie, I prayed that 1 Peter 3:7b come true for that piece of...  Imprecatory prayers, wow. Man, nothing gets my back up like violence (physical or verbal) directed at a woman.
Anyways, I was dead last up to the summit (and nearly dead). I was at least 10 minutes behind every onle else (my concept of time was skewed because I was totally focused on making the next step and trying to slow my heart-rate down). I prayed for God to give me the grace of reaching the summit, but more importantly for His will to be done.  But God came through and totally hooked me up (Oh, the Gatorage "GU" gell is a crock, it didn't have any noticeable effect on me). At the 12,281ft top there was a infinitesimal amount of wind, maybe 2 mph.  That is unheard of!  Both of my previous summit here were greeted with bone-chilling 20-35mph wind gusts with a minimum of 15mph sustained. Again it was an unparalleled day to summit.  There were NO clouds only haze on the horizon allowing an unrestricted 360 degree view of Rainier, St.Helens, Hood, and Jefferson peaks.
At the top, the other guys were crazy gracious waiting for me before taking THE summit pics.  Apparently, their tradition is the "Skin Shot" at the top of whatever they climb. It's not a bad tradition to start for Volcano Summits.

As soon as it was time to partake of the summit toast (1oz of Mango Rum, 1oz of Coconut Rum, 2oz of Courvoisier VSOP Cognac (my favorite was the cognac, mmm mmm)), Matt Behr led us in a rousing manly rendition of Doxology:

Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow!
Praise Him All Creatures Here Below,
Praise Him Above All Heavenly Hosts!
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost!

The tradition of the summit toast is longstanding for Nick and I. Man, I missed him up there. His knee was just not willing to let him summit. There is just something right about a little alcohol to celebrate the assent to a peak.
All 9 of us sledded down in record time.  I went from 11,657ft to 9,754ft traveling 1.2 miles in 8 minutes!!! All sliding down a 28% grade. It was a blast!

And here is my destroyed Sled:

We hustled down the mountain and we saw this beautiful sunset near the base.

I was feeling like crap from the False Summit all the way down.  I had vertigo, nausea (but I held it in), blurred vision, very little lung capacity (I was coughing like a chain smoker if I took too deep of a breath), and a plaguing cramp on the inside of my left quad.  I kept praying the formal and pietistic supplication "Dad Fix it!" Yeah, if you guys heard how I pray you'd totally roll your eyes and shake your heads. We got to the campsite after dark and quickly packed up for the return trip to Seattle. We all shook hands and agreed the hike totally kicked tail.
Matt, Nick, and I all hit up a truck stop for some food and Nick had to drive back to Seattle, I was in no condition to drive. For the second night in a row I didn't sleep only shut my eyes and lost myself in the morass of my mind and semi-stochastic musings of what God's will may be. Some kind words kept returning to mind, "Love God and do whatever you please" -Augustine. Yeah but you don't understand, if I actually trust that whatever God's will is will be accomplished when I delight in him first, then I don't have any control over the course of events....*wink... sarcasm and conviction go hand in hand*
So the three of us hit Seattle around 4:35AM, and I was showered and in bed by 6:20AM...only to get up at 7:35AM to get to church.  Right now it is 12:45AM the next day And I have slept 1.75 hours out of the last 66.25 hours.  I may be considered "sleep deprived". Pftt! That's nothing, my personal best was 87.5 hours of continuous consciousness, and the last 8 hours of that I drove from Oregon to Seattle along the Coast. Um bragging about not sleeping, now it should be obvious why the Bible has nothing positive to say about young men. Not one thing. But you say what about 1 John 2:14?!  Well young men are strong (well most of them are, the pictures above rule me out of this category). So the young men can be terrorists...that's not necessarily a complement.
Ooh one more thing to crowd this already sesquipedalian mess of a blog post.  In church the Holy Spirit totally used my fatigue by opening my mind/gut to this amazing little song my Kelsey Bernheisel. I don't even know the name of the song but here are some quotes excerpted: "We are broken, shipwrecked in the storm" "Father you set us free" "Father you are our hope" "Jesus you are all we have" "Father come and fill us up take our idols".  I know without the lyric sheet these seem pretty generic, but it meant something to me and broke me up inside.
Um I think that's all I want to type. Typos are all intentional. Yes even that one that's still bothering you.
Random Pictures Without Explanation:

 This spastic writer thanks Rodrigo Y Gabriel for their invaluable riffs and harmonies which contributed to the overall tempo of key strokes.

Miles Run:111.29

Miles Biked:85.99
Total Miles:197.28
Stadium Stairs Run*:2244
Steep Steps Run*:1340
Days to Rainier:121
Summit Team:9
Aspirin Tablets:42

You know you have a problem when after a run you studiously enter all the way points into Google Earth and click "Show Elevation Profile" and get this:
And then your like, "I ran 12.1 miles in three hours?" But I still had energy at the end, I could have run farther.
When that happens, you have problems. Running is what you do in war, when bullets fly and your ears scream with the deafening roar of jet planes and the enemy's whizzing tracers cut laser-lines into your friends. Running is what you do when your son is in grave danger and you must snatch him out from the path of a barreling truck. Running is what you do when you see death coming for you and you thirst, you yearn, you passionately utterly maddeningly want to live.
Running is not a fun...thing...to...do.
So here I sit, body still high from the adrenaline kick, waiting for the heightened state to diminish, so I can sleep. As a side note, I decided to fill two of my hip flasks with water (my conventional water bottles just aren't comfortable to run with) and carry them with me. When taking hits (is it a hit, or is their another term for drinking from a flask?) from them down on Alki, no one seemed to care. But after running up near the Junction, I noticed a cop approaching just as I had paused for some water. I immediately tucked the flask into my elbow and did my best impression of a runner with a leg cramp until he drove past. I'd rather not have to explain, "No officer I am not consuming alcohol out of a hip flask in public, here smell, it's water....No, I'm not trying to get an officer of the law drunk while on duty...Do you really need to handcuff me before searching me?...!!!...Hi Bob...Yep it's my first time in lockup...Really you end up here every Wednesday night?..." The flasks may get me into trouble, but they are probably a better idea than my last run of 9+ miles where I hit cotton mouth at mile 6 and had to sneak water from someone's hose at 11pm just to make it home.

So I might as well tell you about what I did on Saturday night. I went to the ShowBox in SoDo to see a band oddly named the Dismemberment Plan. Now before you think, okay we all knew it would happen eventually, and finally Josh has snapped and is going off to some sick satanic band to quell the demons within. No, allow me to explain. This band saw the movie Ground Hog Day. Remember the insurance salesman Phil meets over and over? Well Ned Reirson is trying to sell insurance policies with optional death and dismemberment plan. So the band found a name.
Flash 18 years forward the whole band is in their late 30s and decided to come back together to re-release their album Emergency & I purportedly one of the most influential albums in the late 90s early 2000s in the indie rock genre. To promote their release, they made one quick tour. Some shows in Japan, some shows in D.C. their home town, and ONE show on the west coast---Seattle. So I went. My buddy Joe introduced me to them back in college, and they have been with me ever since, rattling around my brain and popping out of my atonal mouth when I think no one is listening. TO YOU bearded muses! May you reign as indie rockers of indie rockers forever!

Travis Morrison D Plan's Frontman @ ShowBox SoDo:

Me on stage with 80 others and Travis Morrison:

Whistling, Running, and Dune

Miles Run:99.19

Miles Biked:85.99
Total Miles:185.18
Stadium Stairs Run*:2244
Steep Steps Run*:1340
Days to Rainier:126
Summit Team:9.55
Aspirin Tablets:42

8.65 mile run on Monday. Strained my lateral colateral ligament on my right knee. Running sux, yadda, yadda yadda.

Ok the running stuff is out of the way, cool.

So I am here at the Ballard Campus of Mars Hill Church listening to the eloquence of the systems-minded master Tim Beltz. Very cool guy. He is a salty retired Coast Guard Officer who knows a lot about how to build a church's administrative capabilities to allow a church to love people and steward resources well. I need to learn these aspects to reach my long-term goals.

I had the chance to attend the church's staff training on Tuesday and was greatly encouraged by seeing the passion and steadfastness of my leaders. Pastor Mark Driscoll spoke from his gut and gave all the staff a widened vision of what we all are doing. He even gave health recommendations geared to help avoid burn out in this busy season of Easter prep, and assist all to steward their time well.

Yesterday, I got to enjoy some time with my amazing friend Pavel. He is an awesome leader at the University of Washington Campus of Mars. I had the chance to see how his Campus Cleanup team works. As the leader of the Ballard Campus Cleanup, I have made plenty of mistakes and learned a thing or two about how to lead people to worship in a way that serves people instead of using them and focuses on worship. Also as a systems minded guy, I enjoy looking at organizational structures. For some bizzare reason, I see into them, can see how they can be improved, and the simplest way to execute the necessary changes.

....................

Dangit!

I guess the running stuff is not completely done for this post. It's just after midnight and I wanted to finish this confession before sleep carries my mind away.

I just ran 9.72 miles...my God. It has been about 65 days since I started any exercise geared toward my eventual semi-random grid search for the local maxima of Washington State. Prior to January 7th 2011, I had run the mandatory mile run in 6th grade in under 8 minutes (I believe my exact time according to my mustached gym teacher was 7:12 but that seems fast considering I was the shortest child in my 1,100 student middle school). In fact, an embarrassing set of stories revolves around my height, next time you see me ask about it.

Aside from that one run, I had never run any distance for any reason before the age of 24 years, 6 months. I am now 24 years and 8 months old. What a difference 2 months makes. Shoot, if I found some caffeine pills, chugged 4 full-sized energy drinks, ate a bag of French Truffles, and was being chased by half zombie invading Fremen from planet Arrakis, I might be able to run a half marathon tomorrow. Holy cow. I mean I still hate running, but I'm kinda sorta making progress. It's like that time when I was a little over 3-and-a-half years old, and I saw a man walking down the side walk whistling. I was blown away. You can make music without an instrument?! I asked my godmother Bernadyne, and she whistled too! I single-mindedly dedicated myself to the task of learning how to whistle. For the next week I experimented, revised, and finally achieved unaided noise from which my godmother had no escape. By the end of the month, I could whistle any tune I heard and did so often. I just collected information, synthesized it, executed as best I could, and achieved the desired outcome. I suppose this running thing is no different.

..............

Submitted an application today. Can an introvert like me get a job with the Development Group of a megachurch? IDK.

Ever been so tired you ask yourself, "Hey Josh, what are you feeling?" and you say, "Meh." back? Sleep. 8 hours. ZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz

Neurons and Necrobiosis

Miles Run:80.82

Miles Biked:85.99
Total Miles:166.81
Stadium Stairs Run*:2244
Steep Steps Run*:1340
Days to Rainier:131
Summit Team:9.55
Aspirin Tablets:42

Some philosophers have speculated that heaven is only the brains oxygen-deprived neurons firing and the mass release of serotonin resulting in euphoria and random visual free-associations allowing the soon-to-be deceased to accept the end of days. That's of course retarded[1]. But perhaps these scholars are partially right. Perhaps when the brain is dying it fires everything it's got, throws the rum and gunpowder and cannons and the livestock and the 2nd lieutenant[2] all overboard and runs the sails to the braces.

To me running is dying, at least it feels like that. Could be why I hate running... I have had an occasion or two in my life where death was certain yet failed to materialize and running brings those to mind.

So I just got back from my longest run yet (8.77 miles) and it came 40 hours after my previous longest run ever (8.61 miles). By sheer force of God, I managed one leg of continuous running that spanned 4.71 miles.

So in light of nearly two hours of an oh-so-lovely semi-hypoxic brain (where philosophers speculate our heaven-halucinations are manufactured), what did my 2.9 pound lump of spongy mush spit out?

• "The enemy's gate is down"
• "Will the real John Galt please stand up, please stand up, please stand up..."
• "Bonfire...with friends...that dude rocks...cheers mate, enjoy your beer"
• "I wonder if I could kick Benjamin Franklin's butt in a chess match?"
• "I always voted at my party's call, and I never thought of thinking for myself at all, I thought so little they rewarded me, by making me the ruler of the Queen's Navy!"
• "Where did Fermat's logic break down in his correct yet blind assertion that (a^n)+(b^n)=c^n for all integers greater than 2?"
• "If an arrogant man is humiliated in the forest, does someone somewhere laugh at him?"
• "Whatever doesn't kill you only makes you weaker, so the next thing can"
• "Is there a file on me with the USSS over that little Romney 22lr incident?"

Ain't neuron necrobiosis grand?

________

1 - Please forgive my crude insult to men educated beyond their own intelligence. They are making a blatant mistake by relying on blind faith that they own collection of neurons is a trustworthy tool for proper perception and analysis. It ain't.

2 - Often seen as the least desirable military officer by the enlisted, the 2nd Lieutenants know enough tactics to get their men into trouble, but haven't had the same level of field training as the average grunt. As such, they tend to be outcasts from both the enlisted and higher ranked officers.

Stairs

Miles Run:39.72
Miles Biked:85.99
Total Miles:125.71
Stadium Stairs Run*:1020
Steep Steps Run*:536
Days to Rainier:144
Summit Team:8.55
Aspirin Tablets:35
*for each round trip only the upward steps are counted

Dang, soon the stats alone will be their own blog post!
Wow! I really don't like running but I found something I like even less. Running stairs! Yeah it is pretty much the reason they invented Tylenol (Also known as the soldier's candy). Being a total rebel, I decided that Aspirin is the real non-conformist pain salve. (Actually I am just too cheap to buy the more powerful stuff to numb the achilles pain). The upside of the stair addition to my routine is that now I have a new stat. Since the progression of stats is denominated in miles, people, and pills, I will record my stair progress in ascended steps, so the number can look all cool and impressive.
So where do I run steps? Naturally I had to choose the most ridiculous place in three states. It is called "Rura Penthe". That is my name for it (ever seen Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country? In the movie, Captain Kirk and Dr. McCoy are sentenced to a life sentence to be served at the Klingon dilithium mines on a god-forsaken ice planetoid called Rura Penthe). The stair's official name is probably something like "the Thistle street pedestrian link." Regardless of my fanciful name or its official designation, it is factually the longest continuous set of stairs in Oregon, Idaho, or Washington State. It is horrible.
Pictures will come at some point.
That stair case kicked my butt. The first section is a set of 204 wide steps with a similar height and tred dept as a typical flight at UW's Husky Football Stadium. The average height of each step is about 6 inches. The upper section boasts 11.5 inch steps andan indeterminant number of steps. I tried to count them, but each time I decended from the top, I kept losing count! It seems my body had determined that death was iminent therefore blood no longer needed to be pumped to my brain. Apparently, my body was indignant at my brain for deciding to destroy the body and "turned off the tap" as it were.
That is the first time I have ever been so winded that I couldn't count.
Each step required a leap and delicate landing only to precariously teeter on the edge of oblivion, the only option was to launch myself toward the next towering step. Each of the four times I found myself at the antipenultimate step, my heart was a roaring jet engine deafening my ears; at the penultimate step, every fiber demanded a halt; at the ultimate step, my soul rallied, my imageo-dei was recalled, and I rejoiced. The culmination of each conquering trip toward heaven was my knife.
Carving another tally into the heart's wood of some long-since-dead pine tree, a cellulose Ebeneezer to God's gift of pain and expectation of my goal: Rainier.
Only 144 days left.
Also the cadre grows: Greg (who has beaten some 14,000+ Colorado peaks) and his bride-to-be Melissa (who has run the 26.2 tour de morts some strange folks associate with that beautiful and desolate plain in Greece).
We are men and women dedicated to a cause. Our espirit de corp is high, our passionate temporaires raison d'etre is a white rocky peak less than 200 miles from where I sit.

So why do I keep writing these awkward diatribes about pain and foolish self-abasement?
I really want to stop doing this whole training thing. I just want it to be over. But I am committed (not institutionally, though sometimes I wonder if I ought to be, :P). And I need to remind myself. I need to keep the goal in mind. I write these for the same reason that I sing the song All My Tears by Ex Nihilo; I need to be reminded that after this is finished there is a glorious End.

Pain and Road Signs

Miles Run:21.30
Miles Biked:65.75
Total Miles:87.05
Days to Rainier:161
Summit Team:5.55
Aspirin Tablets:15

Running today after biking. Obviously this is a bad idea. So I fatigued my right foot, then pushed through the pain until it failed. Now I'm on aspirin. Reminds me of a song by the White Stripes:

Well strip the bark right off a tree and just hand it this way,
Don't even need a drink of water to make the headache go away

In Europe, a common folk remedy was to chew Willow tree bark because it would reduce pain and reduce fevers. Later researchers discovered acetylsalicylic acid (yeah I had to look up the spelling, chemistry would have been my other major if I had more time, but with only two years of chemistry my memory failed me). The foot thing will be better soon, otherwise my exorcism...I mean exercise schedule will be shot.
Anyway, the best part of the day came this evening. I hung out with my community group, and talked with the guys about what we are all going through and what the gospel means in the midst of our circumstances. I shared just how much I have been seeing my arrogance, and the truth that I must repent of it otherwise why would God honor the proud, "Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted. Matt 23:12" I also have been not trusting that all I need to do is worship well and Jesus will take care of the little things, you know like life.
Next us men watched Payback (with Mel Gibson). It was sweet. Some notable quotes from the movie:

GSW: that's what the hospitals call it: gunshot wound. Doctor has to report it to the police. That makes it hard for guys in my line to get what I call, quality health care.

Not many people know what their life's worth is. I do. Seventy grand. That's what they took from me. And that's what I was going to get back.

We went for breakfast in Canada. We made a deal; if she'd stop hookin', I'd stop shooting people...Maybe we were aiming high.

It was a great story of betrayal, opposition, a cunning plan, and ultimately sweet toe-tapping redemption (the children's rhyme "this little Piggy went to market" will take on new meaning when you see this flick).
Good stuff.
So to close out this post, I'm announcing the launch of a new blog: "Josh's Road Signs". It will be dedicated to showcasing all of my collected notes and commentaries on sermons, good books, and scripture. These avenues for greater maturity are much like signs pointing me down one road but not another, telling me to slow and watch for falling rocks, to downshift on steep grades, to watch for crossing wildlife, and the like. We all should be looking for these indicators in our life. Keep your eyes open and if you want to see the signs along my road check our the NEW BLOG. Less than 170 days to Rainier...

New Developments and Old Recollections

I haven't posted here in a long time and I honestly can't give a reason why. I had many more adventures after my time at the Wolf Ski Resort yet I have not put the proverbial pen to paper.
Just to get myself going, I'll recount all the events since my triumphant return to Seattle.

1. I resumed serving at Mars Hill Church both on Sunday and during the week. As of right now I am responsible for leading a 16 member team that serves communion to about 900 people every Sunday during the 7:15pm service in Ballard. I am also responsible for running the Thursday night Campus Cleanup where I lead a variable size team (as few as 8 and occasionally as many as 20) in the task of cleaning a 50,000 sqft building, so that it is all ready for weekly events. These two tasks are immensely stretching for me. I am a quiet and self-absorbed anti-social guy who is totally at home in the corner of a coffee shop. Instead God has called me to lead people in a way that glorifies Christ. I feel like I don't do this very well (or as well as I should), but for whatever reason both those teams are doing rather well. I also serve on Security at the West Seattle Campus of Mars (I dig a church that has bouncers...so that all the little kids are safe and the body is protected).

2. I built a deck and now am finishing up by laying the decking material and railings. The project passed inspection so an underpaid overworked city of Seattle building inspector thinks I did a decent job (for whatever that's worth).

3. I house sat for my grand parents and enjoyed the resumption of my road trip's near constant isolation for a mere 7 days.

4. I have been training in earnest for an upcoming Mt. Rainier Hike and a Mt. Adams Summit. 20 mile sprints in the saddle out to Alki and back (420ft to 0ft and back up). Man I remember Dave's sweet bike and am filled with an envy as I chugg along with my 21 speed mountain bike. Calisthenics have help too and I'm in great shape as I look forward to summer.

5. I have geared up by buying an ice axe, new mountaineering boots, and gaiters.

6. I have played tour guide to some Mars Hillians from Albuquerque and my Buddy Andy from Portland.

7. I have read by the pound: Anathem by Neal Stephenson, Adventures with Charley by Steinbeck, Thinking Beyond Stage One by Thomas Sowell, Doctrine by Mark Driscoll, Luke (4 times) by Luke, On the Road by Kerouac, and the 9-part series by Orson Scott Card (Ender's Game, Ender's Shadow, Shadow of the Hegemon, Shadow Puppets, Shadow of the Giant, Ender in Exile, Speaker for the Dead, Xenocide, Children of the Mind)

So I have been busy, but I feel idle. That makes me feel uneasy. I can't rest. Sabbath is not my normal state.

Ok now I've shaken off the hesitation in writing so now I'll write about what happened after the Wolf. Excuse me let me turn on Mogwai, so my mind is clear...

Drawn and French Quartered

Miles: 5774.1
Gallons Burned: 198.2
Caffeinated Drinks: ??

I'm in Pensacola Florida sitting in the parking lot of the Naval Air Museum on naval Air Station Pensacola. I can hear Gulfstream jets and the occasional Trainer jet pass over head as I think back on my time in New Orleans...

On my way to that Restaurant with the Mango Margarita, I walked the perimeter of 34 city blocks in the French quarter, the full length of Bourbon Street 4 times, and Canal Street twice. Of course that was all done on my leg featuring the injured right calf. As mentioned before, Asprin = Win.
During this jaunt, I turned north from Jefferson Square to the rear of a Catholic Church. As I approached I saw the church's fenced-off garden and this statue.

I stopped to admire a statue of Jesus in the churchyard. The statue was lighted from beneath throwing its shadow onto a bare white wall. As I stood hands clasped about the cold wrought-iron bars, I heard familiar cords. "Eli, the Barrow boy", a song from the Decemberists, was being played by a man on the corner with his guitar. He sings the song of deep crushing sadness, brutal loss, and self destruction beautifully and brings tears to my eyes with his rendition.

Eli, the barrow boy, when they found him
Dressed all in corduroy, he had drowned in
The river down the way
They laid his body down in a church yard

This song is the song of the French Quarter for me:

These are some other sight of note (okay not the first one):
Aston Martin DB-9 ($180k) actually parked on the street!

BMW M6. I didn't even know they made one! ($102k) You may sense a pattern: cars.

These posts are scattered all over the French Quarter.

Sunday night in the Quarter: lights on, no one home.

Bourbon Street at 1am on a Saturday Night.

Each block in the French Quarter has a central courtyard. I took this in the courtyard of the Chartres House Cafe.

How many guys who are doing what I am doing actually pack an outfit like this with a long coat? (Yes I'm odd we've been over this)
Next time the run for Florida.