Holiday season blues

Rough going during the holiday season... I was on a running roll until the Christmas festivities got under way. Looks like I'll be hurtin' something mighty next week. Alas, such is life.

An old coach and some new motivation

I ran in to one of my high school cross-country coaches at Costco this weekend. Technically, he wasn't my coach since I didn't go to his school and instead just trained with them during the summer months, but I considered him one then and I consider him one today.

Despite recurring shin splints and an incredibly lazy approach to pain, Coach took me under his wing and encouraged me to win. He taught me hard work through morning summer runs in the desert followed by two hours swimming laps in the city pool. He also taught me a thing or too about relaxation: giving me cheese and crackers after 30-mile bike rides and ice cream when I swam the length of the pool without taking a breath.

Coach was more than a coach to me, he was like a dad.

I'll never forget the time he got lost during one of our weekend bike rides and the look of relief when he finally discovered me at Village Inn chowing down with the bike group.

****For the record: that's right, HE got lost. I was with the group, so therefore I was right where I was supposed to be. But that's a story for another day.****

There was the time I called him old in the pool and managed to get away unscathed because swimming wasn't his strongest sport. Or the time I thought he would strangle me for talking back to the race coordinators right before the gun went off.

That's why it felt so awful when I gave up at State my junior year and ended up finishing fifth from last. I'll never forget that face. The disappointment and sadness he must have felt from watching so much invested time and energy swirl down the toilet. I had no good excuse, no real reason; I had simply quit.

I still can't think about that race without feeling slightly guilty, and to be honest, it's one of the driving forces behind this blog, this fundraising. I know my tendencies towards laziness, Coach is one of the many who are also aware, and this has served as a good way to break that cycle. It was unfortunately too easy for me to throw aside Coach's investment that November I botched the race. I knew him well, I knew he would continue to like me despite a failure here and there.

It's a wee-bit harder to throw away the financial investment and support of acquaintances.

Granted, there's also the fact that I have grown-up and have come to equate life to a long distance run (it's a marathon, not a sprint). I've also learned to run, not for myself or anyone else, but as a form of worship to my Lord and Saviour. I mean, hell, if He's gonna give me two legs that work and a ridiculous ability to run no matter what, I may as well do something with it, right? What good that worship may be, or what it might actually be doing for the world, I'm not sure. I suppose the efforts to raise funds for the beautiful babies in Chuka is a start. What I do know is that nothing is a mistake and if I can make my body do this, why should I not?

Eight years ago I stood in front of Coach at that finish line feeling discouraged and silly. Sunday, I got to stand in front of him feeling older, wiser and proud of what I was setting out to accomplish.

I love it when that happens.

3.72 Miles and counting

Went for a nice run yesterday afternoon and managed to bust out 3.72 miles! Bam! I definitely didn't realize that's how far I was going and to be honest, I'm kind of glad. It made it easier to enjoy myself. I was running for time and time I did - 36 minutes. I feel accomplished.

I had tried to get out of the house for a run all weekend and it kept not happening - too much else going on.  When I finally did, I was determined to make the most of it. I focused on the fact that it was a beautiful day and I was lucky enough to be out and using my legs. I repeated all manner of silly mumbo jumbo encouragement to myself throughout and ended up finishing with a solid pace for the home stretch.

I love runs like that!

On a side note, it's incredible how much easier a run becomes when I focus on doing my best for my Savior and quit thinking about how much it hurts...

In case you were curious, here were the exact details from mapmyrun.com. 

That website (and app) rocks my socks off...

Hiking it up

Thanksgiving weekend is over and it has been a busy, productive one in the Whitchurch household.   I cooked my very first Thanksgiving dinner, Nathan finished remodeling the bedroom and I got three good workouts in! That's a pretty awesome weekend if you ask me.

The first was a 34 minute run around the neighborhood on Wednesday afternoon. I had gotten home from work a little earlier than usual and decided to take advantage of the sunshine and cool weather. The run itself was perfectly lovely, my motivation high and I managed to go about 2-ish miles non-stop. That is a good start to any weekend, but it only gets better from there!

Now, I know this blog is primarily dedicated to all things outdoors and athletic, but I would like to take a moment and discuss Thanksgiving day itself. That glorious day consisted of nothing but eating and laying around and eating some more and laying some more. Oh what pure joy! Below you will see how delicious it all was. Please note that I cooked everything on that plate except for the turkey. Not gonna lie, I was very, very proud.

After the deliciousness that was Thanksgiving and a Friday spent working on things inside, Nathan and I chose to take advantage of another stunning day on Saturday and go for a hike. It was good to get outside, stretch and walk off some of those potatoes and gravy. We hiked the mountain preserves east of Squaw Peak and rocked it, only stopping once to chit chat with some friends that happend to be on the mountain at the same time. After making it to the top of our peak, we celebrated by taking a few quick pictures before heading back down. Take a look, we seem very pleased with ourselves, no?

And that brings us to Sunday! Today I was lucky enough to escort little Bill again on a run, this time sticking to the mountains instead of city streets. We thought it might be good to get a few action shots and demonstrate to you all what our training is like. And by we, I of course mean me.

Here is Billy's action shot:

Here is mine:

There you have it boys and girls! Thanksgiving weekend is over and it has been a beautiful, wonderful, enjoyable one. I got to spend time with my family: learning my mother's cooking secrets, running with my favorite little brother. I got to spend quality time with my beloved husband: remodeling our room, hiking, sitting on the sofa. But most importantly, I had a few good quality minutes with my own thoughts and very happily was able to refocus on my Savior. I now feel rested, rejuvenated and ready to hit the ground running. 

It's going to be a good week. 

Coolest running story of the week: my brother's edition

This week's awesome running story, alas, does not belong to me. Instead, it comes direct from the luckiest human being alive: my brother Billy.

As I have previously mentioned, Bill is in the process of training for a 100-mile run on New Years Eve. He has been running in the north Phoenix desert at progressively longer distances, yesterday hitting the 30+ mile mark. Ouchy. This week though, he hit a different kind of milestone: the holy cow, you're still alive mile mark?!

It happened near the end an 80 minute run. Billy had gone out on Tuesday night for his jaunt without water, his Camelback or his phone. As he described it, the distance was so short, why did he need water or his phone? *Sigh*

He was running through the desert about 20 minutes from home as it was starting to get dark. The light was casting dappled shadows through the mesquite trees and up ahead he spied a crack in the trail. He continued to run towards the crack, keeping his eyes ten feet in front and zoning in and out in a runner's day dream.

At the moment he was about to step on that dry crack in the desert landscape, he looked down. His eyes registered the diamond pattern at the same time his foot registered the feeling of "squish" underneath. My baby brother had just planted his foot squarely on the back of a western diamondback rattlesnake. (More details on how bad a choice this was available at the hyperlink).

What I wouldn't give to have a YouTube video of what happened next!

Billy simultaneously jumped ten feet high, twenty feet long, screamed like a five year old girl and uttered a line of curse words that would make a sailor blush. He glanced back in time to see the full three and a half feet of rattlesnake still in the trail and looking slightly more thin in the middle. He ran the remaining distance home at a fairly decent, and slightly paranoid, pace.

As best we can figure, Billy is still with us today because that snake was too cold and trying to lick up the last remaining drops of sunlight. It's getting to be that time of year... At the point when he shmooshed it, his snake friend was almost comatose and unable to react. Thank God. Otherwise I might have been an only child.

And there you have it! Remember friends, when running through the desert always carry water, a phone, and keep your eyes on the trail in front of you.


Courtesy of Wikipedia, here is how Billy's friend may have looked had he been awake:

Weekend Running

Yesterday I was lucky enough to escort my little baby brother Billy on a thirty minute run. And by little baby brother, I of course mean my 20 year old, stud of a brother who is currently in the process of training for a 100-mile run.

Yeah, it was painful.

Dinner the night before hadn't sat with me too well (shame on you jambalaya!) and my stomach was churning the entire few miles. Add to that the fact that I'm woefully out of shape again courtesy of three months spent traveling and you get a recipe for ouch.

Billy very graciously allowed me to walk, twice, and then proceeded to encourage me the final sprint to my driveway whereupon I mumbled about water and stumbled into a heap on my living room floor.

Despite all that, it was a truly enjoyable morning. The run hurt but was short enough not to make me sore for days, plus, I got to enjoy a cloudy, overcast day with my truly hilarious brother. All in all, it was a pretty good start to my Saturday.

5k- Done!

Well, its five days later and I have finally recovered from last Sunday's 5K. Turns out that running 3.1 miles for the first time in two months can be fairly painful, both during and after. But, with that said, the sense of accomplishment is totally worth it. Here's how it went down:

Woke up excited on Sunday morning, gearing to go and trying to distract Nathan from the fact that this was his first ever race. The poor guy was tired and nervous and slightly grouchy about having to run. I remember my first 5K and I can't say I blamed him.

Thirty minutes later, we arrived at Tempe Diablo stadium, checked in with Tali and our team and got ourselves registered. Another thirty minutes after that, we were decked out in team shirts, the timers were on our ankles and the numbers across our chests - it was time to run. I was fidgeting with nerves at the start line during the entire 10 minute opening ceremony (don't get me started) and fought to maintain a normal pace when the gun went off and it was time to go.

For the first quarter mile Nathan and I stayed together, fighting our way through the pack and laughing slightly at the grade school boys who sprinted to the front. I felt great! The wind was in my hair, I was picking people off left and right and all I could think of was my recent dream in which I could run for forever. Besides that, it was a beautiful, sunny Fall morning and I was taking part in one of my favorite pastimes with one of my favorite people. There it was, the familiar feeling: I wanted to win.

I turned around to blow a kiss to Nathan and quickly sped away. Bam!, I passed a runner. Shazam!, there went one more. I was a machine and I had my eye on the folks in front. My goal was to do the race under 29 minutes but heck, I wasn't going to complain if it could be faster! I continued to focus on maintaining my pace and how great I was feeling. And then, like it always does, reality set in.

My legs became slightly heavier and my breathing slightly more laboured. Dang! Turns out I couldn't run forever... Now, it was down to the mental race. I refused to let myself think negative. Too many times I've learned that the only thing that stands between a good race and a poor race is a few bad thoughts. Instead, I focused on the fact that I had already made it one mile, one and a half miles, two miles, all on practically no practice at all! This was my gift, my ability given straight from my Creator and I sure wasn't going to squander it away. Running like this, choosing to push rather than to give in to the pain, recognizing that I had been given an ability and that it was being used to help the children I cared about in Chuka, was wonderful and exciting. So I ran.

I ran past water station's one and two with hardly . I ran past two or three more runners, one of which was a twelve year old boy with no concept for pacing oneself. After watching him sprint and walk, sprint and walk, sprint and walk, and passing him two times only to have him overtake me again with all the sprinting, I finally made him run next to me for a half mile. No walking, no overly fast, just a nice, slow pace. I was proud of the little fella.

And still I ran.

Just when I was starting to feel as if the finish line would be something I crossed walking, there it was, right in front of me. I gathered whatever remaining strength I had, dropped a few swear words to let the ground know that it had better move quickly under me and proceeded to work into sprint mode. There were three gentlemen right behind me and while I had already given up on trying to catch the lady in front, there was no way I was letting them pass me.

At 28 minutes and 15 seconds, I crossed the finish line. I had done it!

Five days later, my muscles are finally beginning to recover and I feel more encouraged and excited about this hike than ever. I remember why I enjoy doing this and how excited I am to be doing it for Chuka. I remember how truly blessed I am to be spending a Sunday racing and as long as Jesus allows me the ability, I will continue to run.

There you have it! The story of Team Whitchurch's first 5K - I hope you've enjoyed it!

PS - Nathan did a wonderful job too! His first race and he did it without stopping and in decent time. And see the below, smiling afterward:

Go Team Whitchurch (a subsidiary of Team Planet Heart)!

5K: One Day

Nathan and I will be doing a 5K tomorrow! Wish us luck. And look out for pictures!

Home improvements

Does helping Nathan carry seven slabs of drywall from the car into the house count as weight lifting?

Na, I didn't think so either. Though they were heavy and they did hurt when knocked against my shins.

On an unrelated note, I have officially downloaded the Blogger app on my mobile devices. You know what that means? More posts! I can now talk about this journey of mine from lazy girl to accomplished hiker, all while on the go. Gotta love the 21st century.

Ps- looks like I will be doing a 5k this weekend. :) Go team!

It's Finally Cooling Down!

It's finally cooling down and that means... afternoon running again! I. So. Can't. Wait.

Now, if only I could start getting home at a reasonable enough hour to run.

The last two months

Whoa! Where does the time fly?! I can't believe we're already approaching October. I think if there's one thing I've learned over the last few months, it's to not start a blog in the summertime! Not good for the motivation. That and we just haven't been here AT ALL. Let's see....In the last two months I have:

* Moved offices
* Visited Zion
* Planned a three-day work event in Prescott
* Returned from said office moving and work event only to finish co-planning trade delegation to China
* Changed responsibilities at work
* Been in China for 10 days

And that puts us at today.

Oye.

With all of that said though, the training has been lacking, especially considering the fact that I have a high-ankle sprain courtesy of an unfortunate jump over a Honda dealership fence. That's what I get for trying to take a shortcut between the Toyota dealership where my car was being worked on and Ikea. Dang... It's now looking like Grand Canyon Fall 2011 might be pushed back to Spring 2012.

Stay tuned!

Day 30: 16 Miles

Back in early July, Nathan and I went on a 16 mile hike through the Trinity Alps in Northern California. It was one of the best groomed and nicely slopped trails I've ever been on.

It didn't hurt that it looked like everything beautiful and rugged and glorious in the world.

 The trail we took first meandered over a river and through the woods (no joke), following a glacier carved canyon up to the granite, alpine meadows and lakes. For the first leg of the hike, we skirted a steep cliff with a raging river fed by snow-melt at it's bottom. Achingly tall conifers shaded the path while the glowing red skin of the madrones added a burst of colour to the mix. 

The poison oak added the danger. And the anxiety. Darn poison oak.

From the gentle slope of the canyon wall, we next made our way through a series of switchbacks over smaller streams and runoff from the fast melting snow above. By the time we reached our first eye level encounter with the river, we were ready for what it would hold: massive, angry torrents of water; frigid and desperate to get down the mountain. 

We ate our mid-hike snack of oranges and trail mix at the foot of a waterfall and after four miles of hiking, basked in the cool mist spraying our faces and clothes. We also tried desperately to maintain solid footing. I am pleased to report that we did indeed succeed. 

After that, we wandered through soggy meadows full of thigh-high grass, soggy earth full of ankle high mud and more soggy, little creeks and water ways then I could possibly count. All the while, we chattered and laughed, enjoying the incredible sights and beauty that God had laid before us and praising Him for mercifully providing hiking poles because without them, we would never have managed. Most especially when it came to the river. 

That glorious, raging beast that we had seen the entire way (and managed to avoid), suddenly rose up to meet us in manner we couldn't escape. She had crossed our path and risen so high that the pine that once laid across her width, now only covered 3/4 of the way. Now, the only way to our destination was to throw on the water shoes and skedaddle across. At this point, the poles, though with a tendency to not stay where I wanted to if I didn't manhandle them to the river bed, were instrumental in getting me across. Don't misunderstand me, they didn't get me across very quickly and by the time I did get there my feet were very cold and very asleep, but they kept my little blonde self from getting caught with a wave and flowing back down to the car - 7.5 miles below us.

Once we had made it across the creek/river/Mississippi/Nile that stood in our way, it was a short half mile jaunt across alpine terrain. And straight, exposed granite.

In an effort to let our feet dry, Nathan and I had kept our water shoes on. Which in my case, with  slippery, wet feet in sandals made for a sometimes interesting climb. Or scary. You take your pick.

Nathan on the other hand was loving life in his.....

[Insert commercial break]

....Vibram Five Fingers. For over a mile (when you factor in there and back), he hiked in those silly looking shoes, but never once did they hurt, even across the rock, and his grip on things was stellar! He said it was like being barefoot and comfortable. Thank you Vibram!

[Back to your regularly scheduled blog post]

Then, almost as soon as we had started we were at the end and a cerulean blue lake smiled at us, framed by the craggy mountains covered in snow and a thin smattering of trees. Never has a pepperoni/swiss cheese/honey wheat bagel tasted so divine. We inhaled our lunches with the ferocity of two 20-somethings hungry after an 8 mile hike and proceeded on quickly to picture taking and memory making. It was a good lunch.

The hike back, well, that wasn't quite so merry.

Having never hiked such a long distance before I had sustained myself through the first eight miles with hardly any bad attitude at all. Any fear I may have had at completing the hike had been dampered by the intense beauty and commitment to the challenge. I could see the Grand Canyon, I could see the kids in Chuka, and I knew I wanted it bad. Aaaand... it had only been eight miles.

Through the remaining few miles, I experienced the following:

• Realization of what I had committed to.
• Extreme anxiety about my general athletic ability.
• Bitterness about having to walk so far.
• Pain from every, single, bloody part of my body.
• A strong desire to smack Nathan in the back of his leg with my hiking poles.

You know, the usual things people think.

It wasn't until mile 14.5 when I started singing Amazing Grace to myself through my big, fatty tears that the urge to berate my kind, helpful, encouraging husband and generally quit the hike altogether, left me. 

After 16 miles, thousands of calories. a few bajillion blisters and some incredible sights later, Nathan and I walked across the finish line together. It had truly been an incredible day. We were well aware of the many miles that still lay ahead before we could crawl up the south side of the canyon, but it was a good first step. 

And did I mention that it was beautiful?!

Day ???: I am lazy and Phoenix is hot

This, this right here is why I'm raising money for Chuka. The fact that without any sort of higher motivation or purpose, I would no sooner dream of waking up early to run. The fact that it's been a few days since I've written, and to be honest, my workouts in between (with the exception of one or two), haven't been all that swell. Why?

I hate working out in the summer.

You see, I'm an afternoon worker-outer. I enjoy sleeping in, going to work rested, and then coming home to a solid workout before dinner. That, to me, is athletic perfection. It's the perfect close to a productive day. The cherry on top of motivated excellence.

You know what's not? 100 degrees at 7:00 a.m., 150 million degrees at 5:30 p.m. Uuughh...

And beyond it being warm, I am a horrendously cranky person for the first 10 minutes after waking up. My alarm goes off, I could punch a small child. It's terrible, I know, I'm just so horrendously bitter about the whole experience!! And poor Nathan tries to make me happy, he really does, but then we start running and the guy can't figure out if I'm just motivated to finish or still angry (usually it's the first), it just makes for an unpleasant experience.

Say a prayer everyone. If we're going to get this thing done this fall, I've got to put my big girl panties on and actually get me out of bed in the morning. More importantly, and the underlying problem with my morning crankiness, I've got to get my head in tip-top mental shape. Of all the things I struggle with, this is the biggest root cause: I'm mentally lazy when it comes to pain, discomfort and general motivation through such things.

This week wasn't so good.

I believe that out of the last seven days, we've run/hiked three of them? Ouch. At this rate, the Grand Canyon is going to come out of nowhere and kick our butts! I don't know if it was all of the traveling we did on vacation, or the fact that I simply didn't get to bed early enough this week, but for whatever reason, I could not, simply COULD NOT manage to get going this week. Today was better.

We woke up much later than we had originally intended (totally my bad - didn't set the alarm), and once we got out there it was blazing. Our workout was a mixture of walking up our street / hiking up the hill by our house / running downhill back to la casa. I thought I had a solid lead on Nathan going in to the home stretch, but unfortunately it wasn't enough and his long legs beat out my little guys in the finishing sprint. Dang. I've got to work on those fast twitch muscles. The good news though was that we actually ran! Progress.

Well, that concludes my story for the day. I am lazy, Phoenix is hot, and I need your prayers (and support) to crank this party out in the Fall. If you haven't done so already, I encourage you to follow the link at the top of the blog and consider donating to the Chuka Children's Home. You can also learn more about Mars Hill and the folks that are keeping the Home running. Also, look for more information on them in upcoming posts.

Hey! Remind me tomorrow to tell you the story of our 16 mile hike on vacation, I think you'll really like it...

Day 3: Rest

Currently, Weather.com says it's a cool 109 degrees outside. Granted, it's just after 6:00 p.m. and if you're looking for a more accurate reading for the day, my car registered in at a balmy 117 degrees leaving work.

Not sure about you, but I'm feeling fairly confident that we picked a good day to relax.

Except that, we can't rest forever and my hopes aren't high for a cooler day tomorrow. Alas, so goes the life of an athlete training in Phoenix. In June. In late morning because she doesn't like to wake up early. For a marathon (of sorts).

But since you don't read this blog to hear me complain about the weather (or maybe you do, in which case we'll need to chat about your priorities), I thought I would use today to show you some pictures of Chuka.

These all came from February 2009. If you're interested in seeing more recent pictures, I would encourage you for the time being to visit the Mission Trip 2011 blog: http://www.mhchurch.com/kenya/mission_trip_2011. Once this thing gets up and running a bit, I'll be hoping to upload my own, recent pictures sent from the Home. In the meantime...

The full group a few days before I headed home.

My Kenyan momma, papa and brother. These are the folks that kept me safe for eight days.

They even prepared a special goat stew for their new American daughter.

Look at these precious little faces. How could I not fall in love for forever?!

Again I say, how could I not fall in love?! Those are elephants. Just crossing the street!

Kenya is awesome isn't it?

Day 2: Why Chuka

Per my earlier promise, a brief statement on why I hike for Chuka:

In February 2009, I had the glorious opportunity to spend eight days with Humphrey and the gang at the Chuka Children's Home in Kenya. I got to tour Chuka, meet wonderful people, see the excellent work being done with the children and be treated as near royalty by all of the loving and generous people that I met.

Except it wasn't glorious and in spite of the out-pouring of love and respect that I received, I was miserable, sad and lonely.

You see, in my journey to Kenya, via London, I managed to pick up a little friend who I later "affectionately" named Paco but who happened to be a particularly nasty parasite. Prior to actually making it to the airport in Nairobi, I: threw up on myself on the way to Heathrow airport after a 20 hour layover; was forced to throw out my two jackets and only extra pair of carryon clothes; spent two hours shivering in a cold, February airport, only to finally board my flight and be promptly removed again; spent an extra night, sick in a hotel room in the UK; finally got to Nairobi a day late to find that my luggage had wanted to spend even more time in Heathrow and wouldn't be arriving for a few days still.

And I just couldn't get better. What should have been a magnificent adventure half-way across the world was instead a struggle for, what felt like, my life. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I lost 10-ish lbs. in 12 days and I was convinced, CONVINCED, that I was dying. My poor mother and boyfriend (Nathan) received weepy call after weepy call in which I lamented my state and attested to the fact over and over that I was dying and would never make it home.

Sidenote: My particular parasite causes feelings of imminent doom and depression. Add that to normal homesickness and you have a recipe for a very sad girl. Continue.

That isn't to say that it was all terrible. Kenya is a beautiful country and her people are tremendous. I was treated with respect and a brotherly love that you don't often see in the all too comfortable America. In spite of the horrendous poverty and suffering, she is a country of hope and faith and love. And my heart aches for her.

While there I experienced wonder at God's creation; it's not everyday you see elephants cross a highway or view Mount Kenya towering over the plains in the distance. I witnessed firsthand the change that a heart on fire for the Lord can make in the lives of 15 children. I saw true love and respect displayed on the faces of those who pulled out all the stops to ensure that I saw and experienced the best that Kenya had to offer. And I learned humility in a way that I had never intended to when I, the girl who had come to help, became the one borrowing clothes from my hosts.

Believe you me, when you walk into a Children's Home and ask if there are clothes you can borrow, you get a big, fat heaping pile of humility.

It took months after I had arrived back in the United States for me to feel fully recovered, both emotionally and physically. Paco and the shock of truly experiencing poverty for the first-time outside of a text book, had worn me down to the point of breaking. I didn't unpack for a month after returning, I couldn't smell a smell that reminded me of Kenya without a shock of fear; wherever I went, Kenya was right behind me, refusing to be forgotten, refusing to give up without a fight.

To this day, I still feel as a if a part of my heart wanders around that small town three hours north of Nairobi, still as in shock at what she sees as the very first day. I haven't forgotten Chuka and I never could.

I have kept in touch with Humphrey and Daniel, receiving semi-regular updates on the status of things and always keeping them in my prayers. Now, it's time to take the next step.

When Nathan suggested the idea in late-May that we hike the Grand Canyon rim-to-rim, I agreed semi-heartedly. It sounded like a great idea and watching those folks finish up the Bright Angel Trail on the South Rim, I knew that I, too, wanted to experience that sense of accomplishment that I could see written across their faces. I wanted to know that I, too, could start on the North Rim and in a grueling, 5 - 10 hour process, climb to the bottom, wade across the Colorado (or meander across the bridge) and then conquer a ridiculously long climb up the other side. I wanted it. But I'm lazy.

Every other day I'm struck by a grand idea of sorts. I get a wave of energy, a sense of purpose, a way to change the world for Christ and then my head gets involved, I get weighed down by logistics and I end up moving on to the more mundane things of life. When I agreed to hike the Canyon, I was half expecting this to be the same. Except, it wasn't.

Three or four days after agreeing to train, I was struck by the idea that I could use this as an opportunity to help my friends in Kenya. It wouldn't be too hard. I still had connections at the Children's Home and Kenya Connection and I felt reasonably confident that if I explained my idea, they would jump on board to help. Granted, I had to overcome the fear of rejection. I recognize that my trip wasn't a waste - if anything, I made life-long friends and was able to leave my fancy water filter and malaria medicine with people who needed it most. I know that even though I had planned on three months in Africa, God had had different plans and there should be no regrets in following Christ's plan. But still, I felt as if I disappointed the very people I had so much respect for, and I was afraid my plans would be rejected as another pipe dream.

By the grace of God and his mercy, they weren't and after only 24 hours, Mars Hill had created a paypal site and directions on how to send money. It made me love them and my Kenyan family even more.

And that, my friends is where we find ourselves now. On Day 2 of my "Official" training for the Hike For Chuka.

I hope that you will keep up to date with our training (aka - suffering through summer running in Phoenix) and the work of the Chuka Children's Home. If so led, I would ask for your donations. You will find a link to do so at the top of this blog. My goal is to raise $10,000. Will you help? Already we have received $100 from the generosity of near strangers.

Promise me one thing: think and pray about it....

In the meantime, I'm going to go and continue to cool down after our 3 mile run this morning through Reach 11 in north east Phoenix. I think I've finally hit my first maintenance level where 2 miles is a breeze, 3 miles in definitely do-able and if pushed, I could eek out 4. Time to move on to the next level!

Day 1: Kinda...

Well, seeing as this is the first day I'll be posting on here, we'll effectively call this Day 1 of training for our grand, Grand Canyon hike this fall. Woke up this morning perhaps a little later than we should have (for training in late June in Phoenix) and headed over to the mountain preserves at the end of 40th Street for a little jaunt through the hills. At 102 degrees it was warmish, but we still managed to squeeze out a 5+ mile loop around Squaw Peak and about half way up at an average speed of 3 miles an hour. All in all, I would say it was a fairly good workout, with only a few pauses here and there.

Not bad for Day 1...

Tomorrow, our workout will feature a run through the neighborhood and a few reasons why I'm hiking for Chuka. Stay tuned.

Note for future training: when running/hiking in early Summer, remember to bring along a change of clothes so you don't have put your shirt on backwards to dry by car air conditioning on your way to an appointment. *Sigh*