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Meta
Lance Armstrong 2
Posted in Cancer, Cartoon
2 Comments
Lance Armstrong
So the United State Anti-Doping Agency (USADA) finally caught its white whale. The anti-doping agency has pursued seven-time Tour de France winner Lance Armstrong with Captain Ahab-like persistence; and last night, Armstrong cried uncle. While he still denies he cheated, he refused arbitration. Immediately the USADA stripped him of his titles. And in their glee, I’m surprised they didn’t take away his birthday, too. The agency protected the honor of a sport that’s as pristine as a sewage lagoon. It’s a dark day in Livestrongland.
Don’t get me wrong: If he truly cheated (he failed no other drug test to this point), he cheated. You do the crime, you do the time. There has to be punishment for breaking rules. And Lance Armstrong has now been punished. Severely. But part of me wonders what is next for the dethroned king of cycling. Will he wander the Earth like Pete Rose, claiming innocence but never being allowed into the promised land? Or will he attack this like he did cancer or the mountains in the Pyrenees and overcome it? Time will tell.
What the USADA and all Armstrong’s critics can’t take away, though, is his effect on the cancer community. Thousands and thousands of cancer survivors have been inspired by his fight and survival. I know: I’m one of them. He may have cheated in cycling, but he also cheated death. And in the process, he gave the ultimate prize to so many: Hope.
I’m not going to allow last night’s news to take that hope away from me. I learned a longtime ago about human frailty. I’ve seen priests, coaches, politicians and friends fall short of the esteem I held them in. But in a world that contains lots of gray between the black and white, I know that even flawed messengers can have powerful messages. I wish Armstrong well as he rebuilds his life. And I thank him for helping me rebuild mine.
Posted in Writing
2 Comments
Fit-to-Fat-to-Fit Blog: Looking for a sign
Goal weight: 185 lbs.
At mile 1.3 of my run, there is a short gravel road that takes you to a small lake. At the end of it is a spillway for the lake’s dam. And right next to the spillway is a small dock. I paused this morning, turned off my iPod and looked up into the big, inky sky. Stars hung like tiny Christmas lights, twinkling and trying their hardest to illuminate the world around me. The lake was glass, reflecting the stars and the lights from the homes across the water. I took three deep breaths and began talking to the sky. All my frustrations came out. And then my worries. Soon a long list of wants poured out into the stillness, too. It was like I was asking Santa for a big, undeserved Christmas. I paused, listened to the bugs and something splashing around in the water off in the distance. And then looked up at the sky and asked for a sign.
I guess I was hoping for something like a Hollywood screenwriter would dream up. A meteorite would be nice. A fiery trail of light to let me know the good Lord was listening to my pleas and was going to provide all the answers for me. I stared up at the sky waiting for that telltale streak of light.
Nothing happened.
Dejected, my shoulders slumped. How could my pleas not be answered right then and there? I took another deep breath and looked up at the sky again. This time, I saw all the stars. Venus and Saturn also jumped out at me. I could hear a slight breeze rustling the leaves of the trees behind me. A frog croaked and the bugs were still performing their pre-dawn symphony. It was at moment I realized I was surrounded by signs. I was right smack dab in the middle of a miracle. The power and majesty of life burned brighter than any shooting star ever could.
I just couldn’t see it because I wasn’t engaged. Sometimes you have to meet the signs you are looking for halfway.
I hit the button on my running watch and started running back up the gravel road. I finished my tried 3.10 miles with tired legs and a happy heart. I hadn’t found the signs I was looking for. I had found something even better.
Posted in Fat-Fit-Fat
4 Comments
Friday Free-For-All
Good morning! What’s up? I’ve noticed that we are in the cone of doom now. Oh goody.
Posted in MRBA
48 Comments
The last four years
I was leaving Oxford on that crisp fall evening. The whole world was at Ole Miss to cover the Presidential Debate; and I was heading away from the center of the media-hype universe. The sky was blue and traffic was light on I-55 south. Bored, I turned on the radio to keep me awake. What I heard put a chill in my heart: The economy was melting down. The paper market, how businesses and banks get credit, was freezing up. The world’s economy was teetering on a cliff. The Mississippi countryside looked so peaceful and yet the whole world was about to fall to pieces. I was awake alright.
Not sure that was the beginning of the change we’re experiencing, but it’s a moment that sticks in my mind. Some people say it all happened after 9/11. Others mention the housing crisis and the run up in fuel prices in 2008. Whatever the case, life hasn’t been the same since the Great Recession began.
I remember someone sent me a copy of “Who Moved My Cheese,” in the early 2000’s. I read it, noted the cute tale and didn’t allow a single ounce of the lesson to sink into my head. The book, if you don’t know, is about mice who find that their cheese is vanishing and how they react to it. I guess at that point, I was the mouse who had his head buried in the sand. My cheese was disappearing and I wasn’t doing much about it. I thought my hard work and accomplishments had guaranteed a secure future. I was wrong.
And I wasn’t alone.
The Great Recession caught many of us flatfooted. Corporations did what businesses do to remain profitable; massive layoffs soon followed. Whole industries were changed forever. Small business owners scrambled to save their companies. Workers, who found their cheese gone, scrambled to reinvent themselves. Others hung onto to their jobs for dear life. And some just gave up.
The last four years have been stressful, joyful, painful, fearful and hopeful. I think historians will look back at this time and say it was as big of a societal change as the Industrial Revolution. The middle class, in particular, has taken it on the chin. Whole industries are about to go the way of the dinosaur. Look up, that’s a comet you see heading toward your world.
It’s time to get busy.
Wishful thinking won’t get it done. Longing for the good ol’ days won’t either. It’s time to try new things daily. Throw things against the wall and see what sticks. And don’t fall in love with every new thing you try. You have to learn how to fail. If something doesn’t work, cut it loose without mercy. Put your heart into your work and learn to smile. You’re alive and still in the fight.
I spoke to a small business owner who owns one of the best businesses of his type in the nation. It is right here in Jackson and is feeling some of the same pressures as the newspaper industry. Technology has changed how his customers consume what he sells. But he isn’t giving up. And he isn’t whining. He’s reinventing his business on the fly. He’s providing amazing customer service. He’s changing right before his own eyes. The pressure of the economy is turning a fine piece of coal into a diamond.
While I can’t speak for the rest of the world, I think the Great Recession will end up changing my life for the better. Why? Because I’ve learned that I am capable of doing things I never knew I could before it happened. The biggest blessing is getting nudged out of my comfort zone. I’ve always heard that necessity is the mother of invention. I agree — the last four years have been a mother. But the invention will end up being glorious.
Posted in Writing
3 Comments
Fit-to-Fat-to-Fit Blog: Tests
Goal weight: 185 lbs.
I’ve been running a long time now. Not just exercise but in life: Two jobs, freelance projects, family — my plate has been full of blessings. I’ve also had to deal with anger and disappointment, too. Swallowing that has caused me a lot of pain. It’s something I wish I was better at. My body has paid a price. Exercise and diet have helped me plow through much of it. But I’m still having some problems.
My reflux continues to burn out of the control and I’ll be going to the doctor soon for some tests. I had an upper GI a couple of years ago and it was determined my excess acid production was because of stress. Life is much more stressful now. I pray I get good news this time around.
Right now I’m treating the symptoms. But it’s time to take a hard look at the cause(s).
I did run this morning. The cool weather was a seductive siren song that called me out to the streets. The stars were brilliant as I chugged through the neighborhood. I finished the run at 4.25 miles and took in several deep breaths. I felt more alive than ever.
Posted in Fat-Fit-Fat
2 Comments
Jackson
I can tell you this much: I work in Jackson (part-time now) and have for fifteen years. I haven’t been murdered (yet) and am not planning on it. No one (knock on wood) has stolen my stuff. It’s fair to say that I’m not afraid to come downtown. (unlike some of the commenters I’ve read lately who are absolutely terrified.) In fact, I enjoy it.
I can also tell you that I’ve watched the city change (Some good. Some bad.) While murders get the front page, property crimes have been the cancer quietly killing the city. People and businesses, frustrated with being broken into and their cars stolen, have moved out. The tax-base has dwindled and now the city is facing some very serious infrastructure woes with no money to fix them. The schools have suffered, too — causing not just white-flight, but middle-class flight. And for every action there is an equal but opposite reaction: The suburbs have boomed. But now even they are experiencing some “big-city problems” of their own. I’ve watched an interesting dance between the city and the suburbs — both need each other but neither will admit it.
On the bright side, I’ve seen dedicated people who believe in this town do amazing things. I have friends who live here who make this city great. Culturally, it is a fantastic place to be. Yes, Jackson, for its size, is a wonderful place.
I’ve seen two cities I’ve lived in, Atlanta and San Diego, face similar challenges. When the suburbs got too far away and people got tired of spending hours in the car, renewal took place. Jackson isn’t there yet. I wonder if that will happen in the next 15 years? What will happen to the “trunk of the tree” (as Mayor Harvey Jackson once described the city.) Until then, it will take vision from the business community and the city government. Vision like what propelled Chattanooga forward after they built their aquarium and then rebuilt their downtown. I see signs of it. Is it the “One-lake plan?” Is it developing Town Creek? More downtown development? An arena? More hotels? Capitol Green? We’ll see. I hope whatever it is, it is fast enough and in time.
Recently I saw a sticker on a light pole that said, “Pray for Jackson.” I’ll do that. But I won’t be scared when I visit. I’ll be too busy having a good time.
Fit-to-Fat-to-Fit Blog: On the Road to Recovery
Goal weight: 185 lbs.
Would you like to know the honest truth? I didn’t want to run this morning. Nope. Not at all. My bed felt good. The sheets were nice and warm and the air in the room was cool. And I was tired. I finished up a book project yesterday and I’ll be very, very honest with you — I’m flat exhausted. But I haven’t run that much since last Wednesday (due to an injury) and didn’t want to lose too much fitness. Add to that, it was cool and not humid. A cool August morning in Mississippi is as rare as a flying penguin. I struck while the iron was not hot.
My feet hit the floor and I put on my running gear. I stretched while I waited for my GPS watch to find the satellites and thought about how far I’d go. If my hip injury hurt, I’d limit it three miles. If it felt fine, I’d go for five. I ended up running 5.20 miles.
My legs felt great. It is amazing what a little rest can do for your body. I didn’t seem to lose much fitness and my heart rate stayed in the 140-155 range (down since the weather was cooler.) It was dark with no moon and a light blanket of ground fog covering the grass. I listed to Seth Godin in one ear and the bugs sing me a song with the other (I usually only run with one ear phone so I can hear traffic).
I was a good run. A strong run. A run I needed to burn off toxic stress building up inside of me. I got home, took my shirt off and looked at the pink lines that dot my body. Like photos stuck on the family refrigerator, they are my memories of some of the challenges I’ve faced. I have a scar on my head from when I hit the fireplace as a child. I have a scar on my back from where I was bitten by a dog. I have a couple of scars on my left knee where I fell and the pavement carved me like a turkey. I have numerous scars from my malignant melanoma and other moles that were removed. They were all little pink reminders of how I recovered from life’s little traumas along the way.
I’ll be honest, it didn’t take much courage to survive those traumas. But it took a lot of courage to recover. Getting past my desire to be “safe,” to get back in the saddle after I fell off of life’s horse — well, that took courage.
I rubbed my main melanoma scar, smiled and thought how fortunate I truly am. I then hit the shower and began my day. Today was five more miles run on my road to recovery.
Posted in Fat-Fit-Fat
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