All Called to Be Saints

Here is the first contribution of Rev. Mr. David Wells to this blog.  I have adapted slightly, with his permission, the homily that he gave on the Feast of All Saints, about two weeks ago.  Before long, his posts will appear with his own signature.  Enjoy!

The Marine Corps Marathon on a recent Sunday in D.C. and I know a few people who ran in the race.  One was a priest who used to be where I currently serve as deacon, at St. Jude’s, Rockville, Maryland; he goes by the name of Fr. Rob Walsh.  From what I hear, Fr. Walsh finished the marathon but it was not beautiful to behold.  Even with months of training, running a marathon is no easy feat.  Everyone who runs a marathon follows a training regimen, more or less strictly, so that when race day comes, they don’t get to mile seven and start looking for the nearest metro stop.  In other words, they have a goal—finishing the marathon—and a plan for how they will carry that out—their training regimen.

"My uncle was fond of saying that the goal of life is heaven.  “The goal of life is heaven.”  One spiritual writer puts it this way: “The ultimate failure in life is not to be a saint.”   Recently, the Church celebrated the Feast of All Saints.  We honor those who have reached that goal of heaven and we ask for their help and prayers to rally us on to the finish line.  The saints are like those people who cheer us on after they’ve finished the race, because they know that the award is well worth the struggle.  But even if we have the goal firmly established, how do we reach that goal?  The last thing we want is to be like that person who decides to run a marathon and has no plan for running it.

"Now the plan for going about reaching our goal of heaven is unique for each of us.  God has a distinct plan, a distinct mission, for each one of us.  But that being said, there are some things we all share in common.  There are certain things that if we keep them in mind and carry them out, will aid all of us in reaching our goal of heaven.  I’ve come up with three suggestions, but the Lord knows there are many other things.

"The first piece of advice I have is “keep your eye fixed on the prize.”  When you first begin training for the marathon and you’re sore and out of breath after a half mile; when it’s 95 degrees out and not a bit of shade on the route; and when those shoes everyone says you have to buy cost more than your last suit.  When you encounter all of these setbacks, if your goal is not fixed firmly in place—to run a marathon—you’ll soon give up and head back for the air conditioning.

"The saints recognized and always kept at the forefront that the goal of life is union with God in heaven.  This motivated not just their big decisions but was the motivating factor behind their small decisions as well.  We should think about heaven . . . a lot.  It should fascinate us.  The first reading from the Book of Revelation powerfully and symbolically illustrates the glory of the saints in heaven.  St. John asks who the persons wearing white robes and holding palm branches are.  He is told that these are the saints who suffered great tribulations on earth but whose robes have been washed by Christ’s blood and now glorify God forever.

"In the second reading, St. John reminds the community to whom he writes that they are God’s children now.  This great saint and mystic admits next, “What we shall be hasn’t been revealed.”  It’s beyond our wildest imagination and surpasses our greatest hopes what we shall be like in heaven.  And finally, in the Gospel, Jesus encourages his disciples to undergo suffering and face difficulties during this life, because they will enjoy great glory in heaven.  “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”  “Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”  The saints greatly look forward to heaven and to being with God forever.  We, too, must keep our eye fixed on the prize, and not get too distracted by our everyday problems.  This world is short, eternity is forever.

"The second thing we should keep in mind to reach our goal of heaven is that it’s possible.  It’s possible to be a saint.  No, this is too weak a statement.  It’s expected of us, it’s normal in God’s eyes.  Not only that, but God wants us to be saints and will give us every aid necessary in order to reach our goal.  Sometimes it feels like God is working against us, but this is never the case.  He’s our number one fan and supporter.   Pope John Paul II canonized more saints in his 25 years as pope than were canonized in the previous 450 years.  In doing this, he wanted to show us that not only is it possible to be a saint, it should be thought of as normal to be one.  We’re all called to be one.

"One of the things that makes this difficult is that we think the saints were superhuman and we could never equal their feats.  We don’t read souls, pray all day, talk with God in mystical prayer, or appear in two places at once.  Well, don’t worry, because the saints, apart from Mary, were far from perfect.  St. Padre Pio, an Italian, was known for being short-tempered.  St. John Marie Vianney failed out of seminary and was sent to the middle-of-nowhere city of Ars, France because it was thought there he could do the least damage.  St. Teresa of Avila got so mad at God once, she shouted at him, “if this is the way you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few!”  The saints weren’t great because they were superhuman or perfect, but because they realized they were sinners and relied totally on God.  Reaching our goal is possible, because God desires it, the saints root us on, and the Church is like our mother, giving us the spiritual nourishment to accomplish it.

"The third thing to keep in mind as we strive toward our goal is that we fail daily, but we should persevere nonetheless.  Discouragement is one of the most debilitating things for us as faithful Christians.  Scripture says that even the just man falls seven times a day.  Mother Teresa wisely said that she received so much grace because she was such a great sinner.  The great St. Paul tells us that he is the foremost of sinners.  But this doesn’t get him down.  He recognizes his sin, and then abandons himself to god’s infinite mercy.  After a century of two World Wars, countless other massacres, and many other evils, humanity is tempted to reflect and concentrate on its own sinfulness.  This couldn’t be any more false.  The message Christ gives us is that of mercy.  His mercy completely swallows up the worst of our sins if we turn to him with true contrition.  If we are faithful to the sacrament of confession, we are well on our way to reaching our goal.

"If we keep our eyes fixed on the prize of heaven, realize that it is not only possible but it’s expected of us, and if in spite of our failings we persevere in the race, we shall surely be among those who are with God forever in heaven.  This is our hope and this drives us on.  My brothers and sisters, let us enter the race, so that one day we may share the joy of the communion of saints in heaven.  My all the angels and saints pray for us and intercede for us."

Awesome, Deacon Dave! Thanks!

First News on the Marathon

Here are some initial pictures that I raided from the Facebook of my friend Dave Brewster.  He and I met last year during the marathon.  One of the womenfolk (thanks, ladies!) of his family that came to cheer for him took these.  I owe his dad a huge debt of gratitude for carrying my during the run because I arrived too late to check my bag in.  Here's me at the start.  Dave is in the dayglo yellow shirt a few paces ahead of me.

I got up earlier than last year, but took a wrong turn on the crowded metro system and ended up at the Smithsonian station, getting off with all the 10k-ers.  Realizing my blunder, I reboarded and went the correct way, but the wrong turn cost me about 15 minutes worth of pre-race time.

When I got there, I was confronted by crowds that looked like this.

Now, I wasn't as far back as it appears.  To put it in scale, the red triangle at the lower left is part of the inflatable arch that marked the starting line.  It took me four minutes to cross the starting line from the time of canon blast that started the race.  My roommate, Tom, who got separated from Dave and me, took twenty minutes to cross the starting line.

I felt NO excitement.  ZERO.  That is, until about two days before the race, when I went to pick up my packet.  I grabbed my roommate's too, and seeing our tee shirts and racing numbers, the big "Run for Vocations" posters, I began to get excited.  Going from my team headquarters to the Marine Corps Marathon Expo at the Washington Convention Center to get my free swag only made things worse!  In fact, whereas last year it had been hard to sleep the night before the marathon, this year, it was the night before the night before the marathon where I barely slept a wink.  Now, I am not a terribly jittery person, but this year, about 10 minutes before the race, I couldn't get my fingers to put the goo packs into my little spandex racing belt.  Dave's wife calmly took it from me, loaded the packs in the belt, and handed it back so I could fasten it around my waste.  Erin, thanks!

Around the fifteenth mile I encountered my first acquaintance to cheer for me by name.  I had no clue that Annie was going to be there, but there she was, screaming "Go, Ryan Haber!"  That was a very happy and unexpected meeting.  During the race the Run for Vocations team was out cheering - the organizers, designated cheerers, and those who had already finished the 10k.  Carol Flannery, the team organizer, was among them.  I think we met around the sixteenth mile.  Thanks, guys!  My mom met me at the twenty mile mark.  We hugged, and I spent a few minutes stretching.  She gave me some water to swallow my ibuprofen, which I had kept forgetting to take.  Seeing her was a real morale boost!  She hustled all over the Mall and Rosslyn to see and cheer for me.  Thanks, Ma!  What a sight for sore eyes.  A few meters later I encountered another Run for Vocations crew, led by Msgr. Rob Panke, all of whom went wild cheering.  Thanks, guys!  They told me later that my ma heard them cheering and went over to thank them, as she hustled by to get to the next cheering point.  They also told me that it looked like I was flying.  Lol.  I sure didn't feel like it at that point.

The 14th Street Bridge stunk again this year.  It will always stink.  The MCM Champion, who won the race in 2:21 hrs, said that it stank.  It is about a mile long, including the launch and landing, but it stinks.  It is arched, so it is the second hill of the race, and it stinks.  It is exposed to the sun, without shade, and with a brisk wind off the river, it stinks.  There are very few cheerers because it is inaccessible by car, and it stinks.  LOTS of people start walking at that point, creating obstacles for those still running, and it stinks.  It stinks.  It stinks.  At the start of the bridge, a runner has only 10k left in the 42k race.  But let me tell you what, no 10k I have ever run has stunk that much.  Cramping picks up, dehydration feels more acute, and frankly, jumping to certain death in the chilling Potomac must seem like a plausible option to some of the racers, because it stinks.  About halfway across the bridge, at my second stop on the bridge to stretch for 30 seconds or so, I started sobbing.  It just happened.  No tears came out, but I just shook and sobbed for another 30 seconds or so.  Then I prayed, "Eternal Father, please give me strength.  Help me to accomplish this thing for me and for you and for priests for our Church.  Help me to encourage others whose hearts are wavering.  Please, Father.  Amen."  I breathed deep and looked up.  A spectator was leaning against the Jersey barrier, resting his arms on his bike and looking at me, and at the crowds.  Unashamed, I started to run again.

Like all unpleasantries, it passes if we persevere.  Landing in Crystal City is a bit of a morale boost - tons of crowds cheering, more live music.

On the metro ride home I met a man who was wearing his medal, and proud.  He had a tummy and told me it was his first marathon.  I smiled and congratulated him.  Very much like the Christian life - it is freaking difficult, but surprisingly doable by anyone with a heart to do it, with some friends to help him along, and with some grace and power from God.

Ok, so my stats, from the MCM website, are above at the right.  When I get more pictures in, I will post them.  Thanks for your support throughout my training.  I am grateful to you all, and offered up miles on this race for many of you.  I'm also grateful to my other roommate for meeting Tom and me after the race to carry our bags and celebrate with us.  You have all been in my prayers.  This time around, I think I will try to avoid getting out of shape by signing up for a spring marathon.

A Thought During a Long Run

During my distance run with my roommate tonight, I had a thought at some point. But I'll share that in a minute.  At the start, we offered our run for different intentions.  In the last miles, we started offering particular miles for different people and different intentions. That helps me, and perhaps him, to stay tough during my runs. Running is largely mental, and so is toughness. People whose first contribution to a conversation about long-distance running is, "I could never do that," probably won't. But they could, even in a wheelchair. During the Marine Corps Marathon last year one of the things that inspired me most and made me most emotional during the run was to see how men in racing wheelchairs, and without functioning legs, could keep up with the runners. Some of them were born without legs. Some of them lost their legs in the war. They tended to get passed on the uphills, but man, did they compensate on the way down! And ten dollars says that not one of them spent the race saying, "I could never do that."

So here's the though that occurred to me: "Toughness and gentleness are not at odds with each other, but in fact are complementary virtues." When we say someone is tough, we usually mean that he or she can take a beating, can get knocked around, and still get back up. "Tough" is a very different thing than "violent," or "aggressive," or "harsh," and its contrary opposite is not gentleness, I think, but weakness or cowardice. "Tough" might be a modern word for something like "having perseverance," or "having fortitude."

Now, someone who is tough knows how to take a knock and not get knocked down, or at least how to get back up. A tough person knows what it is to suffer in the way that a coward does not. A coward goes to any length in order to avoid suffering, perhaps because of fear that it will break him, or perhaps out of simple decadent complacency in comfort. This evasion of suffering can obviously lead very quickly into all sorts of sins. The coward refuses to suffer, never learns of what mettle he's made, never knows triumph, what the Bible calls glory, what we are all made for - perhaps because he cannot conceive even the hope of glory. When we reject weakness and suffering, we will begin to reject it, resent it, in others as well.

On the other hand, the tough person knows what it is to suffer. He has quite likely suffered amply, suffered in a way that a coward preempts by saying, "I could never do that." It is no coincidence that children come to birth before they come to the point of hurting their mothers' hearts. The woman's soul is prepared for suffering by the suffering her body has already learned to endure. This capacity can make them seem amazingly hard to a soul more repelled by pain. "How can she kick her own daughter out of the house, just for doing drugs, or bringing strange boys home overnight?" The tougher person knows that there is a good out there, worth attaining, and greater in goodness than the intervening suffering is in badness. So the tougher soul hardens itself to push through pain and suffering, and wins the prize. (Think of Rom 5:3 or 8:18.)

Precisely because these tougher souls, women in pangs and men in racing wheelchairs, know what it is to suffer, I believe they have a greater capacity to accept it in others. They may not choose to do so, but I think they have a greater capacity to be genuinely patient with others' weakness, suffering, and sorrow. They certainly have a greater ability to help others endure their own difficulties. In an unexpected way, the spiritually tough person is much better at being spiritually gentle. And precisely because our bodies and souls are so thoroughly interconnected, a lesson we learn in one can help us to live better in the other.

So many modern "solutions" to problems come from a rejection of suffering. "I could never carry my child to term, having it remind me of the man that raped me," and others, accustomed to similar thinking, ignore the child's humanity and innocence and concede abortion in cases of rape. It's easier. Less suffering. I-could-never thinking. "But grandma is so old and weak, and tired, surely this disease will torture her to death if we do not put her out of her pain," and others, accustomed to similar thinking, ignore the fact that rather than comforting and loving her, they will only do the work of the disease. It's easier. Less suffering. I-could-never thinking.

The insanity is here: the coward who betrays his comrades to avoid being shot in battle might very well be shot after the battle, and if he isn't, will probably wish he had been, so great will be his interior agony, his self-loathing, his division. For it is a plain truth that we are either at war with sin or at war with ourselves. We can never be at peace with sin because peace is contrary to the nature of sin. The part of our soul that wants goodness will then wage war against the part of our soul that has made a pact with sin, agreed to rationalize and protect it. And the agony of a house divided, of a war within one's soul, of doing evil and hating evil at the same time, is far worse than simply dying. But we often select it because it seems easier, more pleasant, better, especially in the short term. But in the long term, it is a worse sort of death. It is disintegration of the self, the death that does not die, and in the very end, it is hell. Likewise, after the glamor of sin has lost its luster, the couple that have divorced rather than dig into their problems are rarely happier, even if their daily lives seem more manageable. The father who has rejected his homosexually-inclined son "as a matter of scriptural principle," is not at peace.  Nor is the mother who tells the same son that such abnormalities are normal, in order to be nice.  They have successfully split Solomon's baby in two by choosing either to hate the sinner or to love the sin, but they have not successfully saved their son as both of them have intend.

And let's face it: our culture hates suffering. According to Yoda (in Star Wars - you know, the little green dude), suffering is the worst evil. So it is in Buddhism. But in Christianity it was suffering on a cross that saved the world. Aside from the purely natural benefits of enduring suffering to attain a great good on the other side of pain, we who are baptized into and united with Christ have an amazing opportunity; we can offer our suffering in union with His to help Him to redeem the world (Eph 3:13; Phil 3:10-11; Col 1:24; 2 Thes 1:5). That is amazing. And we must remember that people are not the enemy, nor is even suffering, but the I-could-never thinking is. Just as a physically tough person can help a physically weaker person to attain new heights, we Christians, who know that Christ is the Helpmate of us all, should help others to attain new height by persevering through the more profound difficulties that are spiritual and moral.

We not only have to fight for laws that outlaw bad "solutions" to very real problems, but we also have to help those who are spiritually weaker, more vulnerable, more afraid, to learn to endure the difficulties of life by enduring them together. That is what "compassion" means in Latin, "to suffer with," not "to magically make suffering go away." It is what our Lord did by becoming human, and it is how we humans are to serve the Lord. Right now, crisis pregnancy centers and old folks' homes seem especially the places to be - the front lines of our spiritual warfare against I-could-never thinking. The reply to such thinking that arises everywhere and especially in such places must always be, "Ah, but you can do all things with Him who strengthens you," (Phil 4:13). And it must be followed by, "And I'll help you do it."

Tying it all together, in those last miles of the run, my roommate and I prayed for the grace to be made tougher, and we offered our little, voluntary sufferings in union with Jesus' for people about whom we care a great deal especially some people that Jesus is currently asking to voluntarily endure involuntary sufferings. Because running is largely mental, and the mental is half of how we engage in the spiritual, the devil can certainly try to slip in, to break morale, entice us to sin. When a pain the hip or in the glutes interpreted itself as, "Wouldn't it be best to stop now?" I grit my teeth, prayed for Jesus' help, and said, "F*@# you, devil. Go to hell! This mile's for so-and-so. They need it and you're not going to get it," and I pushed into the pain a little. And like the pangs of childbearing, these littler pains pass too. Now, the devil defeated - at least for a few minutes - and the post-run milkshake-and-burger-dinner inhaled and the endorphins making my heart happy in spite of stiff legs, because of stiff legs, I am starting to feel a little sleepy.

Here's what I will pray, I think, before I sleep:

Heavenly Father, please make me tough, so that I can run this race of life the way you want me to, with a gentle heart filled with love for you and those you give me. And now as I lay me down to sleep, please refresh me for another day of service to you, and grant me in my service whatever joys are necessary to sustain me in it, and to bring others to you by it. I ask these things in Jesus' Name. Amen.

Sorry for rambling so long.  It was a long run - there was lots of time to think.  In case you're curious, there's just

I'm weak and liable to spend lots of the next nineteen days thinking, "I could never do that," rather than "I can do all things through Him who strengthens me."  So let's keep praying, OK?

Eunice Kennedy Shriver Would Be Very Proud

Sometimes our "culture" can seem more homogeneous than it is, here in the U.S., because of our national media, which tends to project just a few key images. Those images are necessarily a bit stereotypical. Since we all watch the same shows, we tend to absorb, I think, the same national self-image.

But in reality, travel throughout the U.S. shows that even aside from superficial similarities and differences, there are really profoundly different cultures speckling our country.

When I was in Omaha for a summer, I noted something different there, as surely as I did when I lived for a semester in the forests of Westchester County, outside New York City. I note differences in Ohio and Michigan from Nebraska or Virginia. In reality, the very ways of thinking vary across the fifty states as surely as the landscapes.

The Catholic Key Blog posted this article, describing something different going on in the area around Kansas City, MO. One wonders how such a phenomenon starts in a given locality. There must be a story there. In any event, it is a beautiful thing to read about: a local community that somehow came to decide, without voting it seems, but just by knowing, that it would be accepting of people with handicaps. To be fair, America as a whole has come a long way in basic tolerance of people who are weird, unusual, burdened, or struggling. I can see it with my own sister Keelin. When we take her out nowadays, it seems to me that people are much more likely to be understanding (or at least tactfully quiet) of her funny noises or mannerisms than a decade or two ago. Very rarely do others mock her, as was common back then. That is a good thing. Still, something special seems to be happening in the KC-MO culture.

Running Intensity

I am sitting at my dining room table typing this, chowing down on a burger, fries, and yes, a post-run milkshake. Twenty miles tonight. I'm really happy. I always am after a good workout. For the distance runs, a good workout is one that I finish. My friend and marathon-teammate David came up and ran with me, but he's recovering from an injury, or staving one off, so he didn't run the last eight miles as a precaution. Running with others is always easier for me mentally. Running solo, my mind starts playing games with me, and at some point, my body almost always launches psychological warfare against my will. Here are some highlights from tonight's run.

Off the doorstep: I noticed two things. Firstly, it was chilly out. Secondly, my ankles were stiff. This could be unpleasant, I thought.

Mile 1: My ankles felt better, but within a hundred yards of starting, I realized that my perennial friend (whatever I ate last, no matter how long ago it was) intended to visit me on this run. There are 35,200 yards in a twenty mile run.

Mile 3: I noticed again that my friend/running partner, Dave, is a good conversationalist. He works on Capitol Hill and always has interesting anecdotes from his office, and knows a lot more about who did what in Congress than I ever will, so I like hearing about those things from him. He also asks me about my time in seminary, and has questions about the Church. He's a new Catholic, and so it is especially fun to answer those questions for him. New Catholics, I thought, have such a beautiful joy and excitement about everything Catholic, and everything is new to them, and so they are very often joyful and excited. Those of us raised in Holy Church take much more for granted, and are perhaps harder to shock with Church shenanigans - but that is probably less for our stronger consciences and more because of our deeper cynicism or boredom.

Mile 8: We finished our second four-mile loop. It was about 8:30 p.m. and starting to get positively chilly out. It's a new moon tonight, I think, and very dark away from the larger roads. Summer's back is definitely broken, I thought, and whatever else comes this month will be a last hurrah.

Mile 10: I noted that I still felt fine. Excellent. Last year, during the 26.2 mile marathon, I felt great at the halfway point. That I should feel fine at the halfway point of this long training run struck me as a good sign.

Mile 12: David had to stop at the end of twelve miles. He waited at my place, icing his hip and reading, while I finished the last eight miles.

Mile 13: The first mile I ran on my own. I felt great. By now, it was getting quieter out as traffic died down. Provided one has slept enough, if one has to run in the city, or at least my neck of the woods, it seems like late at night is the best time to run. Running after midnight is best, even, because many of the signs turn off, and the traffic lights blink, and the cars tuck into their garages for the night as their owners tuck into bed. The world becomes quiet, and still, and even this most densely populated part of the busiest stretch of road in my county, next to the nation's very busy capital, settles down for the night, and it feels like it did when it was a small town and I was a small child.

Mile 14: The first mile where it occurred to me that I might stop. I decided to offer the mile up instead, but I forget for whom I offered it. Well, God and the Blessed Virgin remember.

Mile 16: I offered this mile up for a friend who recently surprised with with a very kind gift. Both the gift itself and the surprise were immensely encouraging to me. A mile for him and his family seemed the least I could do.

Mile 18: This mile was the first where it started to hurt. My legs felt a bit like logs - and I don't mean the sturdy sort of logs, but the heavy sort. I was pushing myself, and please with my splits, but afraid to slow down, to take it easy. The danger with taking it easy is very much the same as the danger with pushing oneself too hard: one might just stop either way. No, a nice, regulated pace is the way to go, and I was having a hard time regulating myself. I offered this mile for Keelin, my youngest sister, who is autistic, and who is always a great source of joy and sorrow bundled together. This mile hurt more as it went along, and I take that - now as I sit here stretching and slurping a milkshake - as a sign that God was pleased with my little sacrifice for her. I found myself rationalizing slowing down, slowing more, slowing to a st... NO! Alone, in the dark, I felt sobs welling up in my chest: love; regret; physical pain; intense, intense determination like I rarely feel. I ground my teeth together, cursed, and growled, "This one's for KEELIN!" and I pushed myself, or maybe my Father in heaven pushed me, back closer to the right pace, even past the pace, I think.

The mile ended and I was very sorely tempted to stop. I was in front of my house. I was taking a brief and dangerous break to stretch. My legs didn't want to bend or straighten, tense or relax, but just wobble. I bent over to touch my toes and stretch my back. Standing next to my roommate's car, all I could see was his car's tire and my legs and toes. I almost stopped. After all, it was more than I had run last week. It was enough that I was closer to being back on schedule. Who would blame me? I was very tired, and it was getting late, and even cold, after all. I started to pray, "Father, give me strength, please. Father, strengthen my legs and my heart. I am so weak and tired, Father." I tried to say, "Amen," and straighten up. I muttered something far less pious, but much more honest, and maybe in that sense, more pious after all: "Sh*t. Let's just do this &%@#%^$ thing." Not the best way to end a prayer, but probably better than ending the run, and so I hope you will see why I think there may have been a grace bundled up with my mutterings.

Mile 19: I offered for my running parter and his wife, who are expecting their first child. I passed a man walking his dog.

Mile 20: These miles were for my sister Megan, her husband, and their babies. They have two under two years old - talk about studs! I passed the man and his dog again, from the opposite direction. He called out to ask how I was doing. I called back, "Finishing up twenty, and I'm feeling fine." The second part was an exaggeration more than a lie. Oddly enough, as in my days back in school running cross country, my last miles were as good as my first.

The whole twenty miles took me 2 hrs, 58 min, 57 second. That puts me at a pace of 8:55 min/mile, which is fast enough to break a 4 hr marathon by a minute or two. That's OK, but I didn't count the stretch breaks into the time, so I'll need to cut those down, as well as pick up the pace a bit.

That's for tomorrow, though. For tonight, I am going to pop a few ibuprofens, say my prayers, and hit the hay. I've got a few things to do in the morning before I can even think of a nap, so I'll definitely need some z's tonight.

A couple other random thoughts:

(1) A couple with whom I am friends ran their first half-marathon today up in Philly. I'm pretty pumped for them, and hope it went really well. They're really cool people and they have a nice little boy, and are a brother and sister in Christ. They've trained long and hard, and, well, it's cool... no, beautiful, to see such things unfold. More studs.

(2) A good friend of mine is a deacon-seminarian. I posted his first homily back in May because I was so moved by it. He is in residence on weekends at a parish near me, and tomorrow will be preaching the midday Mass. The Archbishop has asked every clergyman in the diocese who preaches tomorrow to preach about same-sex marriage. The issue is really coming to the fore here locally. My friend was sharing some of his thoughts for a homily with me on the phone the other night. Golly, what a hard thing to preach about: both the Church's teaching and the Church's love must shine forth, both are doubted by much of the world and many sitting in the pews, and only words can be used. I want to go hear him preach because he will do a good job. Another stud.

16.24 miles

So it was a rough run, and since last week, I crapped out at 8 on a 16 mile run, 16.24 on an 18 doesn't seem so bad. The biggest single reason was because it was getting late and my roommate (with whom I frequently run) had to get to work. That was a nice excuse, er... press release, for the both of us.

It's called rebuilding from some sloth.

Look out, 20-miler, here I come! And oh, yeah... look out milkshake, I'm headed right for ya!

How Far Today?

(That's how far I ran this morning with my childhood friend, Dave. I took a 12 min break before the last 3 miles, and felt depleted... the natural consequence of running during the warming morning rather than the cooling evening, and not having eaten in eight or nine hours... but I ran 'em. While I rested, my comrade being in my better condition than I, he banged out two miles. We finished together. And like the workers in Jesus' parable (Mt 20), got the same reward in the end - achievement.)

Ooooh...

5.45 mi loop x 3 loops = 16.35 miles
Start time: 10:32 p.m., Sun Aug 23, 2009
Finish time: 01:06 a.m., Mon Aug 24, 2009
Elapsed: 2:33:41 (hr:min:sec)
Pace: 9:23 min/mi

Cramped, hungry, and feelin' fine.
Off to get dinner at the 24 hr McDonald's.
Mmmmm... Milkshake...

'Nuff Said.

14.47

You may have seen car stickers that read 26.2, a reference to the distance of a marathon, in miles. Tonight Tom and I ran 14.47 miles - something over half the distance. It took us about 2:10 min, which is a pace of 9:00 min/mi. That's about 11 seconds faster than we need to run in the marathon in order to run the whole thing in under 4 hours.


It's hard to tell from the map, but we ran a portion of the course several times (the one mile stretch from our house to the corner of Keswick and Strathmore Ave). We did that to avoid running the lower loop twice, since the last time we ran that section at night, as Tom observed, "You could get a full meal by opening your mouth," the gnats were so thick.

Yes, it was warmish out when we started, a bit under 90*, but it cooled down to about 80* as we finished. Yes, our legs hurt, we both shared with each other - calves and quads, especially. I will confide in you dear reader, that my... how do I put it delicately?... my glutes (let us say) hurt as well. Both of them.

Before the run, we offered our efforts, persistence, and pain for a number of intentions, including all those supporting our efforts to raise awareness, money, and prayers for seminarians and for vocations to the priesthood. Your continued prayers and support have been a great encouragement. I KNOW how much some of the intentions you've given me need prayers and sacrifices. All that kept me going when I felt a new pain in my right thigh at mile 11.5 or so. It's gone now, which is nice. In any event, I have every confidence and reason to believe that my sufferings this evening have sprung holy souls from Purgatory - at least two of them.

Another thing that kept me going was a memory. I remembered, as we polished off the first 7 miles or so, how good I felt physically, how easy, uncramped, and unexhausted, I felt last year at the marathon's halfway point. I thought, in just 10 weeks, I'll be there again if it please God and I keep putting in the miles.

Thanks for your continued support and prayers. God bless.

Gettin' Back in the Swing

So I just 15 minutes ago finished my 12 mile run. Actually, it was 12.76 miles because that was the most convenient route I could find that would bring me by my house at the halfway point so I could make a pit stop. It took me 1 hour, 59 min, 35 seconds. That's 9:22 min/mi, about 11 sec slowly than my minimum goal for the marathon. I've got 10 or 11 weeks to work on that. Should be doable.

At 80*, the temperature was cooler than the daytime high of nearly 100*. Over the course of this run, I burned approximately 1441 calories. To give you an idea of what that means, somebody my size and weight, with a desk job and not much exercise, should consume 1824 calories in a day to maintain weight.

You wouldn't think that running is a team sport. Oddly enough, though, high schools and colleges do have running teams. My roommate and I couldn't run together tonight, but he will run tomorrow night the same pain and accomplishment that I ran tonight. We encourage each other. That is a real motivation. Two other things motivated me. Firstly, I offered up the run as a whole, and with it each hill, each creaky joint, and each impulse to stop and hitchhike home. Tonight's cause was a close friend, a brother really, who is undergoing some pretty excruciating spiritual turmoil. The other motivating incentive was a chocolate milkshake at the end. (Hey, bro, ya know I love ya, man.)

I am going to the 24-hour McDonald's for a milkshake, to buy some ice at the 7-11 next door, and then to take a cool shower and hit the hay. It's 1:00 a.m. right now.

Also, when I started the run I asked my guardian angel (who is so cool) to remind me when things got rough, especially in the last 4 miles or so, what this is all for. As always, he came through. (Thanks, Father, for giving me such an awesome guardian.) While I was running this song I recently downloaded, "We Are Gonna Be Friends", came up on my iPod and then stayed in my mind. I didn't mind because it's a nice song.

The song led me to reflect on the amazing things my Heavenly Father has given me, how He has lavished blessing upon blessing, and grace upon grace: good weather, legs that work, family that love, good friends, faith and hope, beautiful cool breezes, baseball games and juicy hamburgers. God is so merciful. Please, friends, let's always take opportunities that present themselves to remind each other of our Father's great love for us.

We're all in this together now.

Staring Each Other Down

So training season is underway for the Marine Corps Marathon, and for the first month of it, I've been a bit of a slacker. I mean, I've been running, but I've been shoving workouts around, putting them off, and letting them fall back. I am not dramatically behind on my training, but I want to do better this year than last, so my attitude has to change.

Well, on my runs in Omaha, these two hills knocked the wind out of my sail a number of times. One of them is a long, medium grade hill (1/2 mile at 6% or so). The other is shorter, just 100m or so, but probably at over twice that grade. On top of all that, the Marine Corps Marathon (MCM) has two major hill factors - the beginning and the end. The beginning has two big hills, one a gain of about 200 ft over about 2.25 miles, and the second has a gain of about 100 ft over about 1 mile. They didn't cause me any trouble. I hardly noticed them for the all the excitement and adrenaline. But at the end there is an hill that puts on about 100 ft over a mile and half, and of course, there is the infamous finish. At mile 26 or so, one must ascend an exit ramp (I kid you not) off of VA-110 to the finish line at the top of the ramp. I suppose if you run on a highway, you have to run on exit ramps. But what a place to put an exit ramp!

So I have decided to go on the offense against hills. Here's the one that I will be using as my proving grounds. My roommate (also training for the MCM) and I have a not so affectionate name for her, but in public, I will let it suffice to call her the Hill Monster.


Some things to note about the Hill Monster. She is located exactly 1 mile from our house. So there is a nice warmup to get to the workout, and a nice cooldown to get back. And the distance run on the Hill Monster can be pretty nicely estimated because she is so perfectly 1/4 mile long. At 79 ft (almost 8 stories), the Hill Monster is a pretty big girl. She is graded as steeply as 17% (!), about 3x as steep as the nastier hills on the marathon. It's all too perfect for a hill work out. I couldn't make this up.

So tonight we did battle for the first time. It was epic. I felt like Bard of Laketown doing battle with Smaug the Dragon. Like Beowulf fighting Grendel. Roland versus the Moors. I mean, this is David and Goliath stuff. The plan was to run up down her at an easy, recovery pace 8 times. After each descent, turn around, and run back up like I was chasin' a rabbit. Specifically, I wanted to run each up-and-down lap Kenyan-style. That means doing the second part (in this case, the uphill) faster than the first part. It gets hard after a while. So that I wouldn't miscount, I set 8 pennies on a ledge, and removed one as I finished each ascent.

Well, the results are mixed. The pennies did prevent miscounts, but they didn't prevent all the mind games that runners (or at least I) can pull. I started the workout somewhat late (8:40-ish) and had a 10 p.m. appointment with Jesus in my parish adoration chapel. I am gonna put that down as the official reason for my strategic withdrawal after 4 laps. I do know that not having brought water, and it being still warmish out, and not having really eaten since 2 p.m. or so, and... excuses, excuses, excuses... lol. But as I mentioned before, it wasn't a failure. I did successfully Kenyan it, and even with the lazy downhills and the nasty uphills, my average pace was 7:53 min/mi, well faster than what I need to run for my marathon goal. So I am basically gonna say I had the firepower to beat her, but not the supply lines or time. Next time I'll make sure I start earlier and do at least 6 laps.

In any event, the Hill Monster and I have not done battle for the last time.

That makes me think of something I've heard in the confessional over and over again, and very truly, I think. Like battling my dear Hill Monster, the Christian life does not require perfection, but persistence, in the journey with Jesus wherever He may lead. I feel like that requires having a will that is steel to the world, but play dough for Jesus. That's hard for a lot of reasons. That's probably one of the reasons I need Him.

My Retreat

So, as I mentioned before, I went on retreat from July 24 to Aug 1. It was a really beautiful experience, and I am especially appreciative of the community that hosted me, provided me meals, and a daily spiritual director. I feel like the lines of communication between me, myself, and God are more open than they've been in a long time, and that can only be a good thing.

That said, the retreat was not easy or, in one sense, pleasant. "There's a reason," my director said on Day 5, "that they are called spiritual exercises. A retreat is not a vacation." Holy freaking cow, was he dead right on the money! I forget where I read - I think St. Anselm - that the spiritual life is much more difficult than the natural life, and mental labor more difficult than physical. As an academic, he was perhaps biased and defending his lifestyle, except for a key rationale he provides: if it were easier, wouldn't spiritual development be sought and attained more frequently than the material? Yet we see the opposite. Additionally, St. Anselm himself was accustomed from his youth to working for his father, attaining some prosperity therein, hard toil (like walking from Italy to northeastern France to get to the monastery that he eventually joined!) and physical sacrifice, so one can hardly say that he simply hadn't tried the material life. My retreat was eight days long and silent - no talking, no books (except the Good one) or newspapers, certainly no iPod (!). I went to Mass each day, and met with my spiritual director for an hour or two each day. That was very nice. Then in was back into silence. I ran about every other day, and was encouraged to eat heartily and take naps. Lots of time with me, my Bible, and God.

It got intense.

Even when I wasn't in chapel praying, prayer just kinda popped in on its own without me looking for it. Sometimes it was like wrestling with Him. A friend asked me, "Lol. Who won that wrestling match?!"
I laughed, and thought for a minute. When we wrestle with God, we always win. That's because if we win, we win; and if we cry "uncle," (or more aptly, "Father!") and submit to God's will, then we win, too. And don't think that it's blasphemous to write about beating God in a wrestling match. There's precedent: don't forget Jacob and the angel (Gen 32:24-25).

The retreat also required a lot of perseverance. It helped that I flew to Omaha and was picked up at the airport, so I couldn't really go anywhere. But at points I was crawling out of my skin to get out and get it over with. Just like in a run, one might stop to breathe, stretch, or walk, I found myself a couple of times cheating: sneaking a look at an old newspaper, or having a quite, furtive conversation with another retreatant. But basically I stuck with it. I kinda thought - don't take this as dogma - that retreats have different durations, like races. A day retreat might be like a mile run, a weekend like a 5k, a week-long retreat like a 10k, and the 30-day retreat Jesuits make might be compared to a marathon. Maybe there's something there.

So it was good. There were some things that God and I needed to hash out together, kinda like our own little Beer Summit. Only happier, and nobody had to get arrested.

What's a Tempo Run?

I've modified this little blurb from an email to a friend who asked me what a tempo run is. Some of you who don't run might still find it interesting. People don't often realize how much thought goes into training for running. I'm hardly a running expert, but I am happy to tell you what little I've learned from my experience, and perhaps will do so periodically over the coming weeks, months, or years. As always, I'll try to put a spiritual spin on the whole thing.

When you run distance, there are two dimensions to your race - distance and speed. Your ability to go a distance is developed by those weekly long, steady distance (LSD) runs 8, 10, 20 miles at something below your race pace. Distance needs endurance, and that's what these runs build. Your ability to go fast (but sub-sprinting) is determined by your cardiovascular capacity. Speed workouts are what really push that - intervals on a track, etc. But in a long cross-country or road RACE, you need to go fast not just for a few hundred meters at a time, nor just to finish, but ideally to finish in a short time period, right? So tempo runs train the body and mind to sustain faster speeds over longer distances.

So a tempo run is faster than your target race pace, but NOT a dead sprint. It should be sustainable over the distance you are going to run (so it will be a slower pace for longer distances). And you should do it for farther than you would likely run an interval workout. So if your intended race pace for the marathon is 9:11 min/mile (4 hours for 26.2 miles), you will want to aim your tempo runs, once or twice weekly, for a pace at like 8:30 min/mi, and for a distance of say 3-5 miles. You might do 15 min warm-up at a pleasant pace, followed by 30 min at 8:30 or 8:45 (something that will work you hard, but that you can sustain for the time/distance), followed by 15 min cool down at a pace where you can catch your breath and relax a bit. And just like any workout, you gradually build toward goals.

In the spiritual life, we sometimes have periods of pleasantness and ease. When things get hard, lots of folks bail and go back to their old way of life. Sometimes we have sharp, painful periods, like the death of a loved one, that pass quickly and leave us to recoup over months or years. Other times, we have somewhat less intense but more prolonged trials, like the care of a sick spouse, or long periods of dryness in prayer. Trials that aren't as intense, but are much, much longer. It is best to train in the spiritual life not only to be able to go the distance, or with grace to be able to sustain hardship, but to be able to sustain hardship over a distance too.

I'm not sure how to do that. Your ideas (as comments, especially) will be greatly appreciated. Maybe this retreat I'm on (this email is pre-prepared and delay-published) will help me figure this whole thing called Christian life out. Lolol. Let's keep praying for each other, dear reader.

Blast from the Past

I ran the Rockville Twilight 8k Run tonight as a tempo run workout because I didn't do one yesterday. I decided to run it as a tempo run about 3/4 mile into it. A tempo run is a run at an uncomfortably brisk but manageable pace - working hard, you might say, but not quite racing. Tempo runs might be arranged so that different segments are at different paces. That's kinda like life. And originally, I thought, I'd just go out and do it at my marathon pace. But running 5 miles at marathon pace isn't going to help much. Running 5 miles at a tempo pace might just, though. Again, like life: sometimes you gotta push it because anything less won't do, or because, what the hell, why not? I don't want to settle into a least-common-denominator or a let's-not-make-waves sort of way of living. A higher sort of life is gonna require sacrificing a little comfort, that easier pace, and pushing against the forces, internal and external, natural and even supernatural, that push against us.


It was a fun race, always has been, and it was like a stroll down memory lane, since I have done it a number of times in high school and college, but I think only once since. Tonight the air was cool (unusually) and townsfolk were out in numbers to cheer (reliably). A number of my friends and I met up for it, and several of them new or baby runners. A good time was had by all.

The Longest Seven Miles

This morning I went for a run with a friend of mine, Dave, who I met during last year's Marine Corps Marathon. We ran 7.3 miles or so down by his neck of the woods in northern Virginia, starting about 7:30 a.m. Mental notes to self:

1) As I am not used to running early in the day, I need to be careful to eat heartily the night before so that I do not get hungry and depleted during the run;

2) Sunny, 85*F, and humid is normal in Maryland and Virginia during the summer, and 7:30 a.m. is no exception;

3) That's why I prefer to run at night, when even if the heat hasn't broken, the sun has at least set;

4) Walking a few hundred yards is better than giving up;

5) It would have been easier still, in a perverse way, just to have stayed in better shape.

These lessons are applicable in some ways to life in general. For instance, it is good to plan ahead, know what one is getting oneself into, and to show up with enough reserves to get the job done. Likewise, reality can be harsh and draining, not just during the summer; sometimes taking it easy on oneself is the most prudent thing to do. Just get back in there, and don't give up.

Running for Keelin

This is my sister, Keelin. She is 25 years old and lives in a group home in Columbia, Maryland, about 25-50 minutes from the various other members of our family. She lives in a group home because she is autistic.

She's not like the Rain Man, if you saw that movie. The movie, on its own merits, is good. It is a bit misleading though, because most people who are autistic aren't like the character that Dustin Hoffman played so well. Keelin certainly isn't, anyway. She cannot count matchsticks or play the piano like Mozart, or anything like that. In fact, she only learned to tie her shoes when she was fifteen (praise God!). She really doesn't talk very much, although she does understand - when she cares to - a great deal.

A couple years ago I saw a sign for a "Fourth of July Run for Autism 5k" on July 5th. Naturally, I was very disappointed. Last year, I forgot about it until too late. This year, I am already registered. The road race is sponsored by Autism Speaks, an organization dedicated to raising public awareness of autism. For myself, I am not hoping for a magical cure as much as I am hoping that our society will be able to identify and remove the causes of autism, while getting better at recognizing and incorporating those who experience it. The race is a fundraiser for Autism Speaks, and I am running in it to raise money for them because their work so closely matches my aspirations for my sister.

My sister Keelin likes to go for walks and car rides. She prefers classical music to contemporary. She likes horses (and better at a bit of a distance) and swimming. Really, I am running this race for Keelin. I am not in peak shape right now, to say the least, but I figure at least I can go out there and do it.

If anyone would like to make a donation to support my efforts for Autism Speaks and for my sister, I will be greatly obliged. To do so, click here. If you would prefer to write a check rather than make an electronic payment, click here for the form you need to print out and send in with your donation. I don't know that the organizers will tell me who's donated on my behalf, so let me thank you in advance. If anyone else wants to run it, I believe there are still entries available. Click here for their website.

Ok, So It Was REALLLLY Windy Out There

My roommate and I went for an eight-mile run this afternoon. It was in the low thirties (Fahrenheit) with gusts of wind that you cannot imagine. I saw the gusts pull off small branches from trees. It was fun to fly on the tailwinds, but the headwinds were almost impenetrable. It was a challenging, yet nonetheless a fun run.

I think that is very different from how God works. Grace, God's way of acting in the world, isn't on-again, off-again. No, rather it is constant. Nor is it overpowering or overwhelming. On the other hand, it is gentle and guiding. It prepares more than controls; coaxes but never coerces; woos and waits, but does not force or dominate. Without end or limits, His love (for lack of a better phrase) still respects our boundaries. What is inexorable about grace is God's horrible patience, how long He willingly suffers our neglect while he woos and waits, whispers and beckons. What is dominant in His love is that He will strip us of everything He has given us so that we can see our own naked neediness; but He will never compel us to come to Him to be filled. And His love is indeed a terrible thing: many have spent their lives squandering it in addictions, lusts, ambitions, and greeds. A lesser love, the less singular loves we mortals have, would walk away at some point from such wanton wretches as we. But even at the end of our life on earth, there He is, waiting patiently, to see if we will turn back to the gentle, implacable love that knows no end.

Make a New Year's Resolution. While not religious, it is one of the better contributions of our secular culture to our religious life. Maybe resolve that in the year of Our Lord 2009, you will make each Sunday a special, refreshing day for worshipping God and loving your neighbor without cost or profit. Maybe resolve to get back into better shape, not for yourself, but because your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor 6:19). Maybe resolve to confess your sins more frequently, say once a month, and bear in mind that each confession of our own sinfulness is also a confession of God's godliness, of Jesus' lordship.

And God bless you with a happy New Year.

Last Post on the Marine Corps Marathon

OK, folks, so my (unofficial) stats and photos are out. Click the pic at right to see the photo album sent to me by the marathon photographers. Remember that my chip didn't work, so it is a good thing that I kept my own split times. Using those, I was able to figure out where I finished (by fitting my finishing place between the ones immediately faster and slower than mine).

I finished:
585 / 1672 men aged 30-34 yrs old (50.9 percentile)
3562 / 11,129 men
4707 / 18,281 finishers

Some splits:
3 mi = 0:27:52.11
6 mi = 0:53:12.41 (25:20.30 from 3 mi mark)
8 mi = 1:10:10. (at this point my ave. was 8:30 min/mi, my training pace)
13 mi = 1:43:49. (1/2 way mark, pace is still 8:30 min/mi)

My pace slowed between mi 18 and 20 to about 10 min/mi, then to almost 11 min/mi at one point. At about mile 22, as the course crossed back into Virginia, I began to recover, and the last two miles of the race my average pace was 9:20 min/mi.

26.2 mi = 4:05:20 (9:21.8 min/mi)

I received a letter from the Vocations Office of the Archdiocese of Washington DC today, thanking me for the contributions donated on my behalf, which topped over $1200. The director of vocations pointed out that it was a high number, and that the money will be used for things like emergency funeral travel and other exigencies.

More recently, one of my roommates has decided to run a marathon in the spring. I think I've nearly convinced Tom, my roommate/running partner to run one, too. I'm looking for one in May, maybe, to apply some of the lessons I learned, gain some experience, and get ready for my next Marine Corps Marathon.

Thanks again, all, for your prayers, encouragement, and support.

How It All Went

Ok, so today I ran the Marine Corps Marathon, my first marathon and my longest run ever, by 6.2 miles (about 10K).

First, I want to thank all my supporters. A lot of people donated money to the Archdiocese on my behalf, prayed for me, bought me shoes and nutrition supplies, cheered me on, encouraged me, and prayed for me. A number of you have called to check in on me and have emailed me your best wishes. Without that support, I would have bailed out about two months ago.Y'all are the best. I want you to know that when the howitzer (no starter's pistol for the Marines!) was fired to start the race, I offered the entire run to our Eternal Father for your benefit, asking him to bless you all for how much you've blessed me. I believe it is exactly the sort of sacrifice that our Heavenly Father loves to accept and to multiply.

Second, the race went well. I did not run the times I had targetted, but am very happy with having finished, and well especially in the last 3-4 miles, and having come very close to my desired time. The first few miles were hard because the course was so congested. Miles 18-22 were especially hard - I don't think I hit the wall (I think I did that once) as much as just became fatigued, very fatigued in the legs. There were water and carbohydrate-gel stands every two miles or so - a real godsend. At mile 22, as fatigue was hitting its worst, another young man whose name turned out to be Dave called to me while I had stopped to stretch, "Hey, c'mon, you can do it! Let's run together." So we did run together, each encouraging the other for the last four miles. The race ends on a fairly steep hill, going up an exit ramp off of I-66 or some such road (maybe VA-110). I slowed to a trudge, and then began to walk, just 150 yards from the finish! A hand gently lay on my back and pushed, and I knew it was Dave, and we ran in to the end together. Talk about a grace! It's a metaphor for life in Christ - we can try it alone, but it's so much better to go at it with others. Dave just came into Mother Church's fold at the Easter Vigil this past spring; and this coming spring will marry his fiancee. During our four miles together, we prayed a few Hail Marys and encouraged other runners who were struggling. Please take a moment to pray for their marriage to be blessed with fruitfulness and joy.

I saw some cool quotes, and even moving anecdotes, written on the back of peoples shirts. One said, "Pain is just weakness leaving the body." I like that. As a Christian striving with St. Paul to be a coworker with Christ in the labor of redeeming the world, I thought of my own little rejoinder.

Pain is the sound of the world being redeemed.

At the finish line, a Marine greets each finisher and puts a medal around his or her neck, and offers congratulations. People bring the finishers fruit and vegetables, sports bars, and lots of liquids. The Marines think of everything, and handled everything with gracious hospitality and efficient thoroughness. They have my complete confidence in every matter from now on. People were crying; I cried too - the pain is pretty real, but the joy, the sense of accomplishment, the camaraderie of the runners, the enthusiasm of the tens of thousands of spectators who formed a veritable gauntlet of cheers for about 80% of the course - it's all so much realer than any pain. I type that, 11 hours after having finished, as I ice my weary joints and down tylenol like jelly beans. Another shirt said, "Pain is for now; glory is forever." I really like that one.

One big lesson I learned: don't eat lots of jelly beans, no matter whether they are advertised as "Energy Beans," at mile 18 of a marathon. Trust me.

After the race, I called my roommate, Ben, who had my bag and phone, and he came to meet me. My friend Tamara called my cell phone before he got to me, and he told her where I was. I expected him, and am so grateful; I got her to boot, an unexpected surprise, for which I am also grateful. They stood with me in line for an hour while I waited for a massage (yes, the Marines think of everything) and then, while I was getting massaged, went to a sub shop and got me the best tasting sub I have ever eaten.

Bad news is that bad spelling and a data entry glitch seem to have prevented my times from being recorded by the official electronic device. Sorry to y'all who logged in to track me. Happily, I recorded my own darn splits, and will put them up in a few days when I've had a chance to figure them out for sure and format them properly, and when the photos from the race come out.


For now, a few stats are in order, from the time I crossed the starting line, about 3 minutes after the howitzer blasted:

1st 5k = 27:52.11
2nd 5k = 25:20.3
1st 10k = 53:12.41

last 10k = 63:52.38

total (42k / 26.2 mi) = 4:05:20.--
average pace = 9:21 min/mi

Thank you, all of you. Now, my icing is done and I'm ready for some zzz's. I've got school in the morning, and the Tylenol-PMs are starting to kick in. Good night. And, did I mention, thank you?

Coming Up: Marine Corps Marathon

So, the big day is just the day after tomorrow. I am very grateful for all the support I have received. Over a $1000 million dollar bills were donated to the Archdiocese of Washington DC's vocations program on my behalf. That's awesome. About as many people have told me that they are and will be praying for me.

In case you're curious, the gun goes off at 8 a.m. on Sunday morning, in what look to be perfect racing conditions. My Greek professor has run the MCM around 28 times, and the Boston Marathon several times too, and (I believe) coaches the women's cross country team at CUA. He told me that 58* (the expected daytime high for Sunday) is the ideal weather for a marathon - the most records are set at that temperature. He would know.

I went with some friends from school who are also running down to the DC Armory to get our race packets, tee-shirts, and most importantly, bibs and timing microchips. The place was filled with vendors and charity organizations: lots of stuff for sale, tons of free handouts, information, and a generally very jubilant atmosphere. That bodes well.

My bib number is lucky number 29686. Lol. Click here if you'd like to see the map of the course. The microchip tied to your shoe allows their computer sensors to track runners during the race and to time us from the time we actually cross the starting line, which might be 10 or 15 minutes after the gun goes off, because of the number of runners. I am, after all, number 29686, even if there aren't exactly that many runners. On race day, you can check up and see how far I've run, by going to their website by clicking here. You'll probably need my lucky bib number. Just in the last few days, I've met a number of other MCM racers, and discovered that some friends are running though I hadn't know earlier. It's beautiful, the camaraderie between strangers. I am also heartened by how young it makes me feel to be engaged upon something so new and exciting, at once both intimidating and inviting.

I could use the prayers because last minute obstacles and hassles pop up, and have already started to pop up. Nothing too serious, but you know how easily we can get discouraged by the little things. Like miles. Lolol. I'm getting pretty pumped - pumped enough to spend every spare minute on Saturday doing on homework (especially Greek, especially principle parts), because I don't know how much I'll be good for Sunday after the race (as much as I love principle parts). I suppose I could use the prayers for that, too. Let's keep praying for each other.