Triathlon Times

My mind is exploding with ideas and things that I want to communicate. I don't know where to start. My last post was in May and let's face it, it was depressing :) It's now October and there have been a lot of changes in my life over the past 5 months.

However, I must fight the urge to make this the catch all entry because this is "The Flicted Friend" and I want this space to remain more or less my space to reflect and learn and share poignant life lessons learned. So for now, here's a bit of what I've learned over the past 5 months and I'm calling it "Triathlon Times."

In May, I decided to train and participate in an Olympic distance a triathlon. Many of you are now asking yourself (and me) WHY? Well, for a lot of reasons, some of which I am still figuring out but mostly it's about healing after a great loss and gaining

control of my life in an otherwise chaotic world.

I chose to do this great thing with Team in Training, a fund raising and training program for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. TNT offers athletes a four-month comprehensive training program under the guidance of qualified coaches and in return, each athlete raises funds used in the fight against blood cancers. Blood cancer is what took my friend Roger Miller from this life and an endurance sport (rock climbing) is what took my friend Shelley. They died in the same week of November 2005 and in celebration of their lives, I chose to do something that I never thought I could to honor their great lives and to find some peace and solace from the loss.

Participating in a triathlon is a celebration of human spirit, physical ability and mental endurance. For me, it was also celebration of life!

We begun the process in early May. A training schedule was outlined and the weeks began to fly by. Daily training was necessary. If I wasn't running, I was biking or swimming and some days I was doing all three. So many times, I wanted to quit but after a few months, I had raised quite a bit of money towards the cause and not only did I need to finish for me, now I had an incredible support group of donors and friends that were cheering me on.

And then, like lightning, the summer was over and I was on a plane to Orlando, FL to compete in the Walt Disney World Triathlon. It was amazing and a moment that will most likely get better as I get older and all of my memories fade from good to better :) In all my life, I have to say that was my peak of fitness. I wasn't the fastest in the race but I was the fastest that I had ever been. I finished the one-mile swim when I thought I would surely drown. I rode the 25 miles on my bike with ease and enjoyment. I finished the 6 mile run upright, sprinting and could have gone at least another mile :)

My heart was so full in that moment, I don't know if I will ever be able to put words to it.

In moments of my own personal despair, Roger Miller had counseled me, "Anywhere worth going is always uphill." He was right.


Now, I know that without a doubt, along with a few other key points. I humbly submit these things that I learned in my journey and hope that they somehow make sense and reflect in some small way what I've begun to understand about my own purpose and the importance of embracing that purpose.

- Forest Gump was wrong. Life is not like a box of chocolates, life is like a triathlon, you never know if you are going to survive.

- A meaningful purpose pushes you beyond your perceived personal limits. When it's not about you, you can do so much more.

- Chaffing is going to happen, do what you can to prevent it but in the end, you will need to just accept it.

- Drowning is not an option. Neither is crashing or quitting.

- When you crawl out of the water, you still have to bike and when you get off your bike, you still have to run.

- There are always people in front and behind you in the progression of things. They aren't your competition, you are. Your place in the progression isn't as important as your progression.

- Even if you are last, at least you finished.

- Milestones are only markers, not finish lines.

- Sometimes water stations are really far apart, unbearably far apart!

- You can't control the weather.

- Transitions are hard. You want to stop but you know you have to keep going.

- Fans are the best invention ever. No matter how tired you are, encouragement along the way always helps.



- There is nothing like the finish line. It's worth it, every time. This point is the one that I hope you will take with you for now and always. I might be naive and silly about lots of things but I know about finish lines and trust me, it's worth it. If you haven't already, find a finish line and do whatever it takes to cross it. You will be amazed what it does for your heart and soul.

Love Wells

Loving someone is like digging a well. Day by day and moment by moment, I move the earth in my heart and soul, allowing a little more of me to be exposed every time. The more earth I move, the deeper love goes. Like all wells, the purpose in digging it is to eventually draw water, one of the basic needs for my very survival. Love is no different. I dig into my soul with the hope of eventually drawing love that will hopefully fill a basic need in my life.

Sadly, sometimes there is no water to be found, no matter how deep I dig. For whatever reason the expectation is not met and I am left severely wanting. Sometimes, I have continued to dig in hopes that eventually, I’ll find something that will satisfy my need. Unfortunately, no water is ever found and there remains a deep and painful cavern in my soul.

In my experience with digging love wells, there are a few ways to deal with these holes in my soul.

The first and easiest way is to cover it up. Put some boards or aluminum siding, maybe even some brush to disguise the gaping hole. These methods include lying to myself about how I really feel and lying to those around me about how things are great. Some folks try drugs and alcohol or other self damaging behaviors. I’ve taken up new hobbies and other things to cover up the hole. Those things work momentarily and have led to new friends and opportunities but the hole remains deep and dangerous.

The worst thing I’ve ever done in trying to cover up one well, is to start digging another. The saying about needing something like you need another hole in your head has all kinds of new meaning to me.

The problem with wells that are merely covered up is that I can easily fall into them if I'm not always careful. Falls like that are liable to kill me or at least maim me for life. Falls into love are no different. The fact remains that no mater how I fall into the hole, either by accident or head first on purpose, there will be just as much water there at the bottom of that well as there was when I tried to cover it up the first time – none.

No, empty love wells in my soul that are merely covered up are never a good idea.

The second way to deal with holes in my soul is to fill them in with all the dirt I excavated in the first place. It’s a painstaking process that takes a long time and so much effort. Grain by gritty grain, I have to take every moment the I ever had with that person and and relive it and then say, “no more.” Slowly but surely, I fill in that well like it was never there and my soul is hidden, once again, safe and protected. I can walk over that well like it had never been there. Heck, I can even dance and sing right over it as if I had never made the effort to love.

But the fact remains that I did try and I did love and no matter what, souls should be different once they have loved deeply, no matter the outcome. Once I fill in a well in my soul, the chances of me digging again become smaller. In fact, once I’ve spent the time and energy to dig and fill time after time, there will come a moment when my soul will be so hard because of all the packed dirt, I am likely to never be able to dig again and definitely not as deep.

No, empty love wells in my soul that are filled in are not a good idea either.

Some perplexing question arise in my mind and heart right about now, especially since it’s late at night and my eyes are puffy because I can’t figure out what to do with these empty wells in my soul. How do I go on with a bunch of useless holes in my soul? What about all I gave? Shouldn’t I at least try to fill them in and cover them up so everyone won’t be able to see how damaged my heart is? I could go on and on with those questions, and believe me, I have.

But to what avail?

Self pity and loathing are no more the vehicles to peace in this case then they have been at any other time.

So what then?

My only answer is this: empty love wells in my soul should never be empty in the first place.

“There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear.” (1 Jn. 4:18)

Even if at the bottom of the deepest love well I ever dug, I find that (for whatever reason) the love I had hoped for from the other person doesn’t exist or is different in any other way than I expected, if I loved without fear, that well should still be filled with love: the perfect love that God has for me and that other person.

In loving others the way that God loves us, without bounds or pride, I make room in my soul to feel His love for me. And in the end, if my soul is full of deep love wells full of perfect love from God, how can I ever be thirsty again?

Live fully or don't live at all

I hate goodbyes. I hate them. I don't hate much but I hate goodbyes. And no matter how people try to soften the blow by saying, "I'll see you later," or "Until next time," that doesn't matter. I hate goodbyes. It's an enmity grown out of my aversion to change but the fact remains that I hate goodbyes.

Those of you who have known me for awhile will agree that some of my strangest behaviors stem from not wanting to say goodbye. I'm usually the last to leave any place: home, work, church, parties, hanging out with friends and pretty much anywhere people are gathered. I get nervous and jittery and act like a stand-up comedian. I perpetuate crazy games that take forever like Life and Phase 10. I say stupid things at moments of departure. I give cheesy cards. I choke and tear up. I give really awkward hugs that catch people off balance. I've even been known to mess up a kiss on the cheek by planting my lips on some random place on the other's face, like the corner of their lips, their nose, their forehead or even their eyelid. It's truly a disaster.

Let's be totally honest, though. All of this is another way to say, I'm selfish. In so many ways, I like my life the way it is, status quo. I like to have my friends and loved ones close by, not more than an arms length or a short drive away. Mainly because I need every one of them so much. In my mind, I don't exist in this world without them. My relationships with others are what has brought me here and what will help me tomorrow and in the future. Without my friends and family, I would be nothing. My love for each one of the people in my life is one of the things I treasure most. I feel so blessed to be able to love so many people. Sometimes I think my heart will burst because I love people so much but it never does, it just keeps stretching, making infinite room for as many as will accept my care and concern.

Departures really throw me for a loop. And I mean departures in the general sense, whether someone has moved across the street or the country, or someone has branched out to other relationships that I am not a part of, or even those that die. It's hard for many reasons but one of the main reasons I am saddened by these changes is that I have a hard time showing these people how much I love them. A day or a week or a year goes by, and I haven't called or emailed. I haven't gone to visit. I haven't sent Christmas cards. I haven't sent birthday cards to them or to their kids. I haven't hugged them and said, "I love you." When people are in close proximity, it's easy. I don't love those that go any less, in fact, I think I love them more because our relationship is perpetuated in my memory and usually, those memories are good, whether or not they are completely accurate.

But according to the Counting Crows (one of my favorite bands), "The price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings." I have to agree. Love and all similar connections require a hefty price. M. Scott Peck, in his book, The Road Less traveled, calls these things, "love's risks." He says of these risks:

If you move out to another human being, there is always the risk that that person will move away from you, leaving you more painfully alone than you were before. Love anything that lives and it will die. Trust anybody and you may be hurt; depend on anyone and that one may let you down. The price of (love) is pain. If someone is determined not to risk pain, then such a person must do without many things; having children, getting married, the hope of ambition, friendship - all that makes life alive, meaningful and significant. Move out or grow in any dimension and pain as well as joy will be your reward. A full life will be full of pain. But the only alternative is not to live fully or not to live at all.

During the first week of November, two very important people in my life passed away. On November 5, one of my friends and former college roommate, Shelley Windsor, fell while rock climbing in Arizona and died. Then the next day, Roger Miller, the bishop of my church congregation, passed away after a brief battle with lymphoma. Both lives were vibrant, brilliant and well lived.

Shelley was a loyal friend, a true outdoorswoman, full of energy, never quitting, always frugal, dedicated to the gospel of Jesus Christ, humble, patient and kind. The short year we lived together at BYU was full of college drama and fun times. She was the even keel that many of us, like myself, needed. She was always reasonable, fair, open and honest. Even though that moment in my life is long past, it remains part of my favorite times for many reasons and Shelley was a part of that. I was fortunate enough to know her and I feel very blessed.

Her death was sudden and unexpected. Attending her viewing and funeral was painful and surreal but because I know she lived a full and faithful life, the pain is certainly lessened. Yet, I have regrets about the sparse contact I had with Shelley over the past few years. I kept up with her through others and the occasional mass emailing. I am saddened that there are things that I didn't get to share with her or say to her. I hope we can catch up someday.

Bishop Miler has had an awesome impact in my life over the three years I have known him. I remember a certain point in my recent past when I got very caught up in my own inadequacies and heartache. Although I spent many moments in prayer, I felt as if the heavens were shut for some reason and I was left to bear those burdens alone.

One Sunday morning, Bishop Miller shook my hand and asked me how I was doing. I told him "fine." He then asked if I would come and talk with him some time that week and I agreed. At the appointed time, I went to his office and he invited me in. We began the meeting with a prayer and then he sat back in his chair and asked me how I was doing. In that moment, the doors of my broken heart were thrown opened and I was able to share with him the heavy burdens I had been carrying for so long. He reminded me that any place worth going was always uphill and that I was loved and appreciated by many, including my Heavenly Father. Never once was he too busy to listen or treated my burdens as if they were too small to worry with.

And while I know with all of my heart that I will see both of these dear friends again, their absence makes me sad. I feel like this life will be less enjoyable because they are not here to enjoy it with me. I briefly mention these two loved ones here because their absence has been felt so recently and yet there are others whose absence is just as stark and painful. I ask myself often, "What am I going to do? How will I ever survive? How do I show them that I love them now and always?"

Again from The Road Less traveled:

The essence of life is change, a panoply of growth and decay. Elect life and growth, and you elect change and the prospect of death. If we can live with the knowledge that death is our constant companion, traveling on our "left shoulder," then death can become . . . our "ally," still fearsome but continually a source of wise counsel. With death's counsel, the constant awareness of the limit of our time to live and love, we can always be guided to make the best use of our time and live life to the fullest. But if we are unwilling to fully face the fearsome presence of death on our left shoulder, we deprive ourselves of its counsel and cannot possibly live or love with clarity. When we shy away from death, the ever-changing nature of things, we inevitably shy away from life.

In some ways, words have never rung more true to me. In my aversion to change and goodbyes, I have to ask, am I shying away from life? In all honesty, I have to admit that yes, I am. I have more than once allowed a precious opportunity to show love and grow closer to someone to pass because of my fear of the unknown, but perceived painful, ending.

Of course I believe this situation in my life can be remedied. But what sweet irony! The way to remedy my situation is to bear the full brunt of the thing I hate. And in doing so, I must embrace the poignant lessons that endings teach. I have to love more people, more fully, more readily, more often and when I'm faced with the inevitable good-bye, I have to be willing to push onward and look heavenward for the comfort and understanding that only a Parent with an Eternal Perspective can give.

My resolve is strong today and yet I know that there will be moments in the future when, in the throws of a painful good-bye, I will have my doubts about the prudence of my decision to love so much. But I have to exercise my faith in the eternal beauty and purposes of love. It is worth it, it is.

Journeys

As you can tell, it's about time "The Flicted Friend" returned to publication. I have taken quite the hiatus: my apologies to you faithful readers! I guess after that last entry I figured I had said everything that I wanted to say but as we all know, I've always got something else to say :) Plus, as the picture tells, I am certainly still flicted!

I would like to reflect on the miracle of journeys. I've taken a few journeys over the past six months and I've taken a moment or two to pull out some commonalities that made these experiences meaningful and unique. (I hope the pictures will help and add a little color to the "musings")

What is a journey anyway? Mr. Webster says it's "travel from one place to another" but in all honesty, that's just too simple. I believe that journeys are more than that. In my experience, every journey has five phases: the dreaming, the advent, the heart, the close and the reflection. Everyone enjoys a different part of the journey and all of us could probably do a better job learning from and contributing to each of the phases. I'll have to explore each of the phases in more depth in that book I keep promising to write :) But in general, at any given moment during a journey, there is the potential for learning and growth and it's up to the journeyman (or person to be politically correct :) to take it all in.

In April, I went to Nashville with a group of friends to run a half marathon. However, as the picture shows, I did not run the half marathon. I made a fatal error in the dreaming phase of this journey, assuming that my body would be completely healed three months after major surgery. I was wrong. Until the very end, I tried to convince myself that I could do it but my body and a close friend finally won out and I did not compete in the race.

I was very disappointed but the trip was fun and the satisfaction that I felt as each of my friends crossed the finish line was sufficient to abate my sadness. In fact, it was awesome how easy it was to forget my own disappointment and be completely swallowed up in the joy of their accomplishments. I definitely learned that my own journeys in life aren't made alone and what others gain from the experience is just as valuable to me as it is to them. Victory comes in many ways, even in defeat.

In late May, I found myself (literally and figuratively) on a cruise to Alaska. Even now, as I reflect, it is hard to find any moment that wasn't completely wonderful and full of fun and adventure. We dreamed big in our plans and spent plenty of time beforehand deciding what we wanted to do and see. We left early enough to spend a day in Seattle with good friends and attend church before the boat left port.

Then, every day on the trip there was something beautiful to see or amazing to do. From whale watching, to canoeing and horseback riding in the Yukon, to the high ropes course challenge in the cedar canopy of Ketchikan, I couldn't have loved it more.

I was humbled everyday at the power and majesty of the Creation and found myself so thankful that God loved me enough to provide such a beautiful place to live and learn. There were constant reminders of how perfectly prepared and put together this earth is and of how much love and tenderness God placed in every detail. I came away refreshed and excited to see more of this world and appreciate those miracles all around me.

The other main factor that made this journey such a complete success was the company of some of the best people I have ever met. The trip was made so much sweeter because I was able to share it with good friends, old and new. It was meaningful to me to share new experiences with people who were kind, fun, supportive, understanding and just out right terrific! I was reminded of the importance of sharing this life with others and of the impact that my fellow travelers can have on me and my experience. I don't find meaning in this life inspite of others; I find meaning in this life because of others. Relationships with others, no matter how difficult they seem at times, are one of the tender mercies of the Lord.

As if that wasn't enough, I was able to spend a week at the beach with my family in June. At one point, I think there were 14 or 15 people sleeping at our beach house! I thought about the "trip" that we had all made to get to that moment in our lives. In particular, my youngest brother had recently returned home from Iraq. I can't imagine the lonely road he has traveled over the past year. Similarly, his wife had spent the first year and a half of their marriage mostly alone, raising their daughter. But they had made the trip to the beach to spend time with us and my heart was so full of gratitude that we were all there.

As our family has aged, we have all taken different roads and made many different decisions in our lives. But somehow, through many small miracles, we were all there at that moment together. It also occurred to me that the sacrifices we had all made previously allowed us to come to that moment together. No matter how large or small those sacrifices had been, in that moment, it was all worth it. Whether it was time from work or money that could have been saved or spent on something else, it was well worth what was given up to have what we gained in love and closeness over the few days we together. The love and affection that we were able to give and receive made what we gave up seem small in comparison to what we gained. Most journeys require some sort of sacrifice and hopefully, when I come to the close and reflect on my journeys, what I gave up will be worth what I gained.

The summer of journeys was far from over and in July shared my favorite holiday with some of my favorite people canoeing, swimming, watching baseball and loving the fireworks. I like to gauge how my year has been and how the next year will be according to how much fun I have on the 4th of July. It's my favorite holiday (mainly because of the fireworks and the cookouts) but I look forward with anticipation every year to what the 4th will hold. This year was no different. If this day was any indication of what's ahead, I'm so excited! It was the kind of day that could go on forever. But like all journeys, it had to come to a close.

Now, almost four months later, everyone in this picture has set out on other journeys and like Frost so vividly reminds us, I doubt we shall pass this way again. This short trip and fun day will stand as a reminder to me to try to live without regrets and make every moment a good as I can, taking the road less traveled. Although my heart is tender as I am reminded often that people will come and go throughout my life's journeys, I need to remember to love them with all I have and try to make sure at our parting, there are some sort of fireworks :)

When I look at my calendar for August, it seems like there was a journey almost everyday! On the 24th, I visited Dr. O for the last time. He gave me a clean bill of health and released me to return to full physical activity, even though I had sort of done that already! Almost seven months to the day, I was able to come to the close of a long and hard journey: physically, emotionally and spiritually. No doubt, I will continue to spend many hours reflecting on the things I have learned and the shear miracles that have been afforded me as I have been given a second chance to live this life to the fullest.

Some journeys leave indelible marks on our souls: body and spirit. I've decided that my 30 inches of scars don't reflect a past I'm ashamed of; they represent a future I'm planning and preparing for. Coming to the close of this journey and reflecting on it has reinforced the fact that God loves me and is always aware of me and my needs. Plus, if I can change with His help, anyone can. I also have accepted that there were dreams that I gave up on because I was afraid and intimidated but no more. If I can manage success on this journey, I can certainly accomplish a myriad of other things I never thought possible.

It was with that attitude change, I decided to try long distance cycling for fun. A group of friends and I decided to ride in the MS 150, a 150 mile bike ride to raise money for multiple sclerosis research. I spent many hours in August on a bike. My longest training ride came on the 27th, 65 miles in one day. It was awesome! I couldn't believe how much I loved riding and how easily I grew accustomed to biking. Journeys have a way of showing you your strengths and weaknesses, some already known and some waiting to be discovered along the way.

On a whim in mid-September, I went to Washington, DC to visit a dear friend I hadn't seen in a long time. She was in DC for a conference and I couldn't pass up the chance to reconnect with her and have some fun in DC. We had so much fun; it was like we had never spent any time apart. Being with her reminded me of so many wonderful memories we had shared and it was refreshing to remember why and how much I love her and cherish our friendship. I was grateful that our life's journeys crossed again and have made a promise that I will try to make these kind of moments happen again.

I also visited the WWII monument for the first time and by chance was able to look up my grandfather on their interactive kiosk. I was so surprised to find him in their database. My heart was so full of love and gratitude for him as I saw his handsome picture and read the brief description of his service in WWII. It engendered a desire within me to research information about his journey and be able to share that with my family and those who have and will benefit from his service and sacrifice. Sometimes the unplanned moments on journeys can be the most enlightening. I think mainly because they are mostly free from expectation and fear. Our hearts and minds are free to simply live and love and be overwhelmed with a beautiful moment.

The following week passed quickly and then it was time for the big bike ride. All the ladies at work laughed at me all week as I would exclaim, "It's like Christmas!" The anticipation of the whole thing was about to kill me and then, we were there at the starting line with a thousand other riders and we were off. I had told myself that no matter what, I was going to finish. As long as my bike worked and my body held out, I was going to make it to the end.

We would stop at every rest stop to stretch and refill on water. There was a monster hill right before the lunch stop that about did us all in. The first afternoon was hot and sticky and the rest stops seemed less frequent. We witnessed a crash of one of the riders that had been pacing with us the whole day. Luckily, one of the members of our team was a paramedic and although she was pretty banged up, she was going to be OK. We waited with her while the ambulance came and then rode a little slower afterwards. After 71.5 miles, we pulled into Darlington Speedway and took our "victory lap" for finishing the first half.

We went to bed at 8 PM and were up early the next morning to do it all again. We had heard a rumor that the course was actually 10 miles longer than we had expected. That rumor turned out to be true but we kept telling ourselves, "we can always ride 10 more miles!" Day two started out overcast and chilly then turned warm and sticky only to rain on us after lunch. By lunch time, I was having to readjust on my seat every 2 or 3 minutes. At that point, we had gone 131.5 miles and there was no way I was quitting with only 30 more to go. The last 20 miles were the hardest. The head wind from the coast picked up and at some points, I felt like I was moving through molasses. Thank goodness for tall teammates and drafting!

My parents caught up to us at one of the last rest stops and gave us some much needed encouragement. Then it was on to the finish. My favorite sign along the way was the one that said something to the effect of, "Congratulations, you knew you could do it!" It was right near the finish line and I thought to myself, "You're darn right, I knew I could!" The finish line was a sweet experience and although I almost ran over the little girl handing out the medals, I was still ecstatic. 161.5 miles in two days! In my wildest dreams, I would have never placed myself at the finish line of an event like that. But there I was - what a complete miracle.

It was a sweet and unique experience. The principle of preparation was certainly reinforced. I would have never made it, had I not put the time on my bike before the ride. I was also reminded how comforting it is to be on a team with people who care about how you are doing. We spent the miles cheering each other on, "just one more mile." The cause was important and our team raised over $2,000, which will in turn help someone else in need. I've also stumbled across something that I really enjoy and hope to continue it.

However, the greatest lesson that this and other similar experiences are teaching me is that the harder the journey, the sweeter the finish. Nothing comes close to that feeling and that's the reason I want to keep at it. I know how rewarding it feels to finish.

That high has kept me going all the way through October. Each weekend has been filled with fun trips and great people. From a short trip to Charleston, SC for a friend's wedding and to see my brother's family to the NC state fair with my roommates and good friends. Then to Utah and Idaho to visit for a few days and finally the Halloween 100K, a bike ride for Habitat for Humanity.

In all honesty, I could go on and on about the amazing places I've been in the last 6 months. Not all these places are physical destinations that others can travel to and not all have been exciting and fun. But they've been milestones in my life and they all hold special meaning to me.

I'm learning that every time I move from one place to another, an opportunity for learning and growth is afforded to me. According to my choices before and along the way, the finish can be very sweet and the reflection on the experiences can be the source of great understanding and comfort in times when other journeys seem pointless, painful and otherwise pretty pathetic.

There are some fantastic journeys just ahead on my life's horizon: a half marathon, a new job, etc. What I've learned previously will help me along the way. I'll set realistic goals, I'll make the proper preparations, I'll make sure to have the best people with me and I'll have confidence in myself and continue to remind myself, "You're darn right I can."

Most importantly, I'll keep moving in anticipation of that fantastic finish. In the past, I've wasted prime opportunities for incredible journeys because I was afraid or intimidated. But I know now, I can't quit moving forward, exercising faith that the One who can see the beginning from the end will be at every beginning to strengthen me, every crossroad to guide me and every end to comfort me. I can't help but know that's true because it's been the case in my life since I started breathing. Take it from this flicted friend of yours, if my journeys are guided, yours will be, too. So, keep moving and keep me posted :)

The Shaw family - December 2002