The Hidden Sacrament--Happy 1st Birthday Ford Hendley Dark

       A sacrament, by definition, is an act that is both sacred and it carries great significance and most believe that God is acting uniquely within the act. The Catholic Church observes seven sacraments and the Presbyterian Church of America observes two. Baptists shy away from the word and meaning of a sacrament and observe ordinances. Catholics, Presbyterians, Lutherans, etc believe that these sacred acts are efficacious signs of grace and the visible means to it, while Baptists, Methodists, and others believe that these acts were ordained by Christ and given to the Church to perform. No matter the denomination, the sacraments bind us to the Church and bind us to actions that are based in Scripture, define the church, connect us to Christ, create community, celebrate God's Creation, and give us tangible actions to partake in to express our inner beliefs. 

    It is in these and through these sacraments that one is able to flesh out and at times makes their thoughts into things they can taste, touch, and see. It is in communion where we touch and see the wine and the bread both shed and broken for us and we partake in that act as a way to say that we too wish to become crucified with Christ. If you have ever experienced a communion service that was personalized, I am sure you can say that it changed everything for you. This happened for me at a Maundy Thursday service many years ago, when I went to take communion and the pastor said, "This is the body that was broken for you, David." I have never taken the cup and the bread again in the same mental state.

    The Catholic Church observes marriage to be one of the sacraments and I wish the Presbyterian Church did as well, but it does not. Marriage has taught me things about myself, about the Church, about sin, about forgiveness and grace, and about God that I don't think I would have learned in any other format. It is the perfect picture of the bride and groom imagery used in Scripture to describe both how God feels about Israel and how Jesus feels about the Church. 

     I say all of this because three years ago, a very wise and learned man was eating lunch with me and he was talking about his children and the joy they bring him and then he looked in my direction and asked what my wife and I were waiting for. I replied with a little, snide comment about not wanting children and how the kids I taught were enough, and how we were waiting. And he shook his head and said that children were an enormous blessing from God and why would anyone want to wait to be blessed by God. I had never thought about it like that before. He then remarked something that I, at the time, blew off as something only he would say, but it is something that is as real to me as the dirt I dug and the seeds I planted today with my students in our school garden. He said that raising children was part of our sanctification. I did not and still not fully understand how much this is true, but I do know that it is. 

     Sanctification is the process by which one is made holy through first the justification of Christ's death and resurrection and then through acts of merits. This may sound like silly business, but it is something God demands of us (1 Peter 1:16 & Lev. 11:45-46). This is the terrible and yet awe-inspiring refining process where we are purged of our brokenness  There is nothing easy about it and yet we aren't expected to do it on our own, but most of us foolishly attempt to do so. I had always thought about the process, but I had never thought that children had anything to do with it except after they had accepted Christ's call on their lives. My wise friend knew otherwise. And 365 days ago, I held my son and for the first time came face to face with every verse in the Bible I had ever read, heard, or memorized about God the Father, God's love, and about me becoming a son. 

     365 days ago at 10:06 am, my dear boy, you, Ford Hendley Dark, came blasting into the world and several moments later, I held you and it was in that moment that I stared into your little, then blue eyes, and I at once felt something that I had never felt before. It was the Something I had believed in for twenty-three years and it became so real that I could barely breathe and since then each day I am learning it anew. And you, my sweet boy, are teaching it to me and you will never know this until you, yourself, one day hold a child of your own. You are each second that I am with you making the Word become Flesh to me. You are letting me for a minute and broken second feel as if I too am looking down upon the son with whom I am well pleased. And you are making me think about how utterly impossible it would have been to turn my back on my son when he cried out to me on the cross. You, my dear son, are making me a better Christian in an oddly secret way. Having you has been a hidden and unspoken daily sacrament. We have mimicked Adam and Eve and are raising you to tend the Garden and help God make all things new. 

    Please, if you are taking your precious time to read this, know that I am in no way trying to be sacrilegious or offensive.  I am only speaking of feelings that are as real to me as the sun that burned my skin yesterday. And they come rushing to me in the strangest of places and at the strangest of times. I am only trying to, and very weakly I know, and attempting to say that Ford, you have been teaching me what I will forever believe to be the most hidden of sacraments; and that is the having of children. And of course, it would be. God is the God of common things and He is so because it further shames all those that wish and expect Him to be otherwise. 

   I will attempt to explain myself, but only with meager examples. I say meager because they come and go in the briefest of moments and I know that I will never be through thinking about them. They are the thoughts and times I never imagined because my consciousness is too shallow and my mind too weak. They are memories that have made so many things in life come back to life again. They are the moments that make me begin to see how all secular things are actually so very sacred. They are the moments when the words of C.S. Lewis from The Great Divorce take on the meanings they were meant to have:

“Son,'he said,' ye cannot in your present state understand eternity...That is what mortals misunderstand. They say of some temporal suffering, "No future bliss can make up for it," not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory. And of some sinful pleasure they say "Let me have but this and I'll take the consequences": little dreaming how damnation will spread back and back into their past and contaminate the pleasure of the sin. Both processes begin even before death. The good man's past begins to change so that his forgiven sins and remembered sorrows take on the quality of Heaven: the bad man's past already conforms to his badness and is filled only with dreariness. And that is why...the Blessed will say "We have never lived anywhere except in Heaven, : and the Lost, "We were always in Hell." And both will speak truly.” 

or 

“There is no other day. All days are present now. This moment contains all moments.” 

    They are the times when you and I walked in the dead of night the countless miles in our little neighborhood when you first arrived and found nighttime to be so hard and I would sing the only songs I know the words to and lyrics like, "Come thou fount of every blessing...Streams of mercy never ceasing..." or, "...Thou my best Thought, by day of by night, waking or sleeping Thy presence my light..." took on meanings that were mysterious and protected in the glow of the street lights.

    They are the moments when you smile and your eyes sparkle and I try to imagine Abraham taking little Isaac up the mount praying so badly for another way. They are the times when I finally catch a brief glimpse of what Brennan Manning meant when he said that God just longs for us to crawl up into his lap and rest. They are the moments when the rain is falling and you and I are sharing the swing with your sweet mom and for the tiniest of moments, everything is right in the world and there is nothing else. 

   They are the times when I can't hardly get home to you and I remember Christ telling us he is coming back for us. They are the times it seems you really do listen to all I am trying to tell you and I think about God listening to me. 

   They are the smallest of time spans when you are sleeping and still and I get to feel you so close and warm next to me and I catch a glimpse of what it must feel like to climb up into God's righteous right hand. 

    They are the times when I look at you and feel such overwhelming pride and love and I know realize why the prodigal son's father slaughtered the fatted calf for his boy who had done so much wrong, but was home now. I feel the the tiniest of moments how God feels about me his adopted son. They are the moments when I try to get you to say dad and remember Christ calling out to His Abba. 

   And so the time is late now and I have just laid you down to sleep for the night and I sit with your pretty mom and I cannot imagine a life without you. I cannot imagine the me who couldn't see kids as the blessing that you are to me and to us. I cannot imagine me telling people that children aren't for me because that is so far from the truth now. 

   Happy birthday my sweet and precious boy. I hope it was indeed as wonderful as it needed to be. I will never forget even the briefest of moments of how you first arrived to us 365 days ago. I will never forget an ounce of your story and how it is now our story. And you are now our hidden sacrament. 

Your Father

Runner's for Boston

   A week ago, two bombs went off at the finish line of our nation's oldest and most revered marathon. It was horrific. It was tragic. It was terrible. It was grotesque. It was deeply saddening. I will not attempt to explain it or even try to give my own take on it. I will only say that I do not understand what happened and that it will be a long time before I can wrap my small mind and shallow consciousness around it, but I think in the face of something like this, we should silence ourselves and learn from something as basic as running. When an event like this occurs, I, at most feel helpless and insignificant, but here are two images that I feel we can gather the most out of and they are the images of the runners ignoring the finish line, something many of them had worked a multitude of years to cross, in an attempt to help those who had been hurt and the images of those who crossed the finish line and ran another two miles, making for a total of 28 miles, to the nearest hospital to give of their own blood. 

   It has been a hard year on running. There was Hurricane Sandy and the NYC marathon. They were left at a crossroads and chose to host the race as a means to highlight the human spirit, but all it made runners look like was a parasitic host trying desperately to make itself look good in face of human loss and tragedy. It was terrible and yet it was also a time for running and running community to redefine itself. And then seven days ago, two bombs went off hurting hundreds of people and killing four at the finish line of America's most prestigious race. And so, it was once again time for the running community to redefine themselves and redefine the sport and from the images that I have seen, I believe that I will be inspired long after the tragedy has become a cold item in the news. Now it became time again to look to the simple of running to help us know where to turn and what to do. And at most running stores across the country, this is where hundreds and I'm sure probably thousands upon thousands gathered for moments of silence and for some outlet to feel useful. Our local running store, Run Fit Sports, was no different, so FH and I got in our car and headed over.

The run for Boston began at 6:30 and Ford and I arrived at around 6:24 and there were already hundreds gathered.

Not a great picture and you can't really see the people, but I was impressed and yet overwhelmed that so many had turned out to run the 2.62 memorial run. 

And at 6:32, we headed off after some instructions from the store owner. He reminded us twice that it was not a race, but rather a group run, which reminded me that, that is one of the key components of running and also key in the face of national or personal tragedy. We are not alone. We are standing on the shoulders of giants and all those that have gone before us and they are holding us up and those that surround us are holding us when we cannot hold ourselves. 

And so, we took off and ran and felt the ground beneath our feet and I was glad to be moving. Running is about a movement forward. You do not run backwards. A good racer will not even look behind because all that matters is the way forward. And once on the run, running is about silence and listening to the sounds that surround you and inside your body. Boston is about these two things. A movement forward and about listening. 

And we charged the hills and glided down their backsides and breathed the air and smelled the good green earth that encapsulated us and yet provided the freedom of space to move forward. 

And at the end, we were once again surrounded by people and those we love all doing what we love. This is where we must all go. There must be faith in better days and times. There must be hope that life will not be solely tragic. And there must be the love of people and place. And we must gather these bold affections and protect them because without them, life is far from valuable and we must prove them true, even in the most simple of acts like pushing a little wheeled stroller over some hills and through a neighborhood proving that we are alive and that we can and will go on. 

Ford and me at the end. 

Ford was parched at the end so we both got a water and a Gatorade. 

We ran for Boston. We ran for ourselves. We ran to run. We ran for the freedom that no bomb or tragedy will take from us.

Run. Breathe. Hope. Persevere.  

David

    

The Price of a Road Race

      One of my favorite things about running is just how simple it is. Yes, the gadgets are neat and the shoes are cool. Yes, the running-specific shorts and shirts are a plus, but you really don't need any of it. All you really need is a pair of shoes (or even just a good pair of feet), some shorts, and an open space. I don't have to go somewhere special. I don't have to make reservations. I don't have to pay a membership fee.  I don't need a permit or a license. I don't have to wait till certain parts of the year. I can just lace up, head out the door, pick a direction, and run wherever and whenever I want. And then when the act of running begins, it is just legs moving, arms pumping, slow breathing, and little concentration. It is simple, just the road or trail and myself. I am in no way saying that running is easy or that some of the flashy gear isn't helpful, because running is hard, even the "easy" runs and the right pair of shoes will make or break you. All I am really trying to say is at its most basic root, running is and should be simple.

     And after one has been running a while, it is only natural that one would be drawn towards the desire to race because no matter how "uncompetitive" you say that you are, you are really always trying to catch someone in something. It is only natural to want to chase or be chased. It is fun. It is exciting. And each person in their own way wants to know how they stack up against someone else. Most runners have had the experience of being out on a run and seeing someone in the distance running and have done everything inside themselves to catch and pass that person. I know I catch myself doing this even when I have headed out the door for just a quick pass around the block.

     It seems that since running is so simple that racing should follow a very similar thread. I think we all remember how easy and how fun it was to race someone during our elementary school days. You just pick somewhere to race to, line up, have some arbitrary person yell go, and then you sprint or run towards the agreed upon place. Or if it is organized, like the infamous 50 yard dash in PE, all the items are decided for you and all you do is run. As you age and progress in school, running becomes more complex, but at the same time it stays pretty simple. I coach varsity cross country and even our most competitive meets are as simple as everyone lining up, a set of instructions are given, a gunshot begins the race, all the runners head in the same direction over an agreed upon distance, and after a certain amount of time, the race is won and then everyone else finishes. And this brings me to the real point of this post: the rapid, rising cost of racing.

     As with most things, you can boil it down to money. And that is the real topic of this post. Several months ago in Running Times, my favorite running magazine, they had an article that was titled: The Price of Competition.  (If you want to read the article, click here) And it was as if all I had been thinking about in relation to running and racing secretly made its way into an article for the population at large to read. The article was written by Pete Magill. He is one of America's top Master's runners (a Master runner is anyone 40 and above. Pete Magill is 50 and is still running four and some change minute miles and 17 minute 5k's.) and he writes great articles for several running publications and each of the articles is full of either good thoughts about running or great advice for older runners, but really just runners in general. 

    

     In the article, Mr. Magill talks about how the price of road races has so greatly increased over the last decade that it is hard to believe. He talks about how he used to go to races during the running boom of the 70's and would pay $3 and get everything we now get minus the t-shirt, but now we pay $30. I wrote a little blog a while back about a similar idea, but it was less direct and Magill is better writer. Mr. Magill simply asks in his article what is one getting when you pay for a race and spend all the money to get to one when the whole act of racing is simple. The example he uses is how he signed up for a half marathon that cost over $100 and then paid for gas, food, and a hotel room and then ends up getting sidelined due to training and does not run the race at all, but rather gets well, runs 13.1 miles to a local Starbucks, orders a large coffee drink, uses the restroom he didn't wait to use, and all the for the price of $3. 

   

Mr. Magill racing college runners and beating them! He's the man in blue. 

      If Mr. Magill were not a well-known runner and talented writer, I would question his reason for writing and it would sound more like sour grapes, but if you read the article well, you can see the point he is making. He is simply saying that back in the 70's, a runner could go to a local race, pay a small fee and be guaranteed three important items: the race would start on time, the course would be measured correctly, and the runner would receive his/her correct race time in a timely manner. And this would occur all for a small fee. He notes that racing then was about racing and now it is about causes. But now you pay $30 and the race doesn't start on time, the distance is almost never what it should be, the results are almost never correct. And I couldn't agree more. 

       Now please do not think I am or Mr. Magill is  raging against charity races or that we do not want people of all running talents to show up to race because that is neither what Mr. Magill writes about and that is not what this post is about. I am simply asking the same question: "Why has racing become so over-priced that people like me that actually just want to race can almost no longer afford to do it?"  Or, "Why has the simple act of racing become so expensive, less accurate, and so complex?" 

     I will give a couple examples from my own meager running career. I ran my first non-school race in 2003. It was a local 5k and I paid $10. I got a t-shirt, water, Gatorade, fruit, a bagel, and a trophy for coming in 4th place. Most 5k races now start at $20 and some go for as much as $50-$60. And I ran my first half marathon, The Seaside Half Marathon, in 2007 and I paid $45. Today, that same race costs around $105 while offering the same amenities to the runner. This last example really highlights Magill's point: what is the runner really getting for all that extra cost when all the runner really wants to do is to race over a chosen distance? I feel that the quick is answer is nothing. 

    Racing has become big business with many races, especially half marathons and marathons, leading the way on outrageous prices. Several companies, most notably, Competitor Inc. have created series of races where they promise seemingly everything, but the actual race itself. Competitor Inc.'s "Rock and Roll Race Series" advertises a party atmosphere and charges as much as $125 without food, hotel, travel, etc. Last year, the NYC marathon cost almost $400. I have several acquaintances that ran last year's Savannah marathon and their total price tag for race weekend was somewhere around $500. 

   And this has caused me to choose not to race. And I feel I am not the only one to choose this way. In the years 2007-2010, I ran 30+ races, but in the last three years, I have run less than 10 races. This is not due to my lack of training, but rather due to the price. I do not see this changing anytime soon and why would it if countless hoards are willing to pay. Please know I am no way against racing companies making money. And I am no way wanting those hoards to stay home and quit running. I am elated that so many people are running. I love it. I wish everyone ran. It would be great. I just want running and racing to be simple again and much less expensive.

     So, where does that leave a person who wants to run and who wants to race, but doesn't exactly feel like throwing down a couple hundred dollars for a race weekend or actually doesn't have it to throw down? This is where I do not agree or align with Mr. Magill. I think there is hope and a chance for proactive runners to do something about it. I will give three suggestions or examples of items or events where I see great glimmers of hope for the runner with a budget or for the runner who is tired of paying ridiculous amounts of money to run.  And here they are:

1. A lot of track clubs around the country offer a variety of races and racing opportunities throughout the calendar year where you can race for either free due to a nominal club membership or a very small fee. My local running club doesn't do this, but the Atlanta Track Club does and have always done so. The picture above is from their very popular summer track series where any individual can race the 3000 meter race or do other events for $1. And you can race about 10 races throughout the year for free or for rates no larger than $10. I think this is a great option and participated as a member for a year and got way more out of the club than my $35 fee. I ran a couple free races and even got my sister and dad into a race for free. 
2. Host your own race and make it an event. This can be done for a nominal price that can be shared amongst the people you invite. And it is a great way to have a get-together that is much different than the usual. It does take some planning, but is very easy. Mel and I did this last December and it was a huge success. We hosted what we titled, "The 1st Annual Hot Cocoa Invitational". We advertised through Facebook and charged nothing except that we asked them to bring a treat to share. I mapped out a 5k course and marked it with chalk and homemade signs. I borrowed a race clock from a XC coaching friend of mine and some water coolers from the school I teach at.. I got free race numbers from Road ID and they even sent us 6 gift certificates that Mel dressed up and we gave out as prizes. We had around 25 people participate and everyone seemed to have a great time and altogether, we probably spent a total of 3 hours prepping and $25. 
3. My third suggestion is almost the same as my second. Bring back the cheap race that focuses solely on racing and do it for a cheap, cheap fee. I know this can be done. All that would have to be done is gather some people that want to race, decide or agree upon a course and distance, make sure the course is well-marked, have someone start the race and time the event, yell out finishing times when folks cross the finish line, have someone record these times, have different people bring a cooler of water and paper cups, and have each race be apart of series of races and at the end of the series give prizes to the top three or four of the top finishers. Races could be held at public parks so you would have access to a restroom. Running clubs used to do this all the time and some still do.

Let's do some of these! 

Happy reading and running,

    David

There's Nothing To Do In This Town...3

      About a month ago, I had a three day weekend and one of the things I wanted to do was eat at two of the local restaurants that Mel and I have never eaten at. Macon is great place for a variety of reasons, but if eating is something you like to do or look forward to doing, then Macon is your place. No, we don't have countless chic 5 Star restaurants nestled in our downtown area where you will impress all of your friends for going to and no, we don't have places opened and maintained by celebrity chefs, but we do have some great and regionally semi-famous places that you can go to that your palette and stomach will thank you for going to.

    One of Macon's most famous places to eat is H&H and it has gotten a lot of press. It is a must, but for some reason or another, neither Mel nor I have had the chance to eat there over the last nine years. Oprah Winfrey even made a highly publicized stop at H&H during her whirlwind visit to Macon back in 2007. And yes, people are still talking about it and the places where she stopped and ate still have her pictures up and the newspaper articles about the stop. The other restaurant I wanted to eat at was Cox Cafe it has gotten no press. In fact, when I went to Google to find pictures of the place, I could not find a single picture and so I had to load up FH and my second-hand digital camera and take them for myself. Oh' the things I do for this little blog and you guys, the faithful readers of the HTH. The only reason I knew about the place was from a bike ride around downtown Macon and one of the cyclist I was with pointed the place out and said if I wanted to go get some great home cooked food, then I should visit Cox Cafe. And so, I wanted to go and bring my two favorite people: Mel and FH.

     Our schedule and the times when H&H were open did not align, but we were able to make it down to Cox Cafe for a late family breakfast. And I am so glad we got to go. Cox Cafe is located in middle of the older industrial section of downtown Macon. I can imagine this location does it no favors as far as being in a "hot" location, but with the many people who work within the industrial section, Cox is a daily routine. I have even heard that some people depend upon the place for both breakfast and lunch. And while we were eating as many 20 people came in to grab a late breakfast, an early lunch, or a quick snack. Early morning and the early lunch crowd is when the place is most crowded. We went at 9 am and we had the place to ourselves with the exception of a couple of policemen on break and the workers busily preparing the lunch menu. 

    Cox is open when the picture says. They have a changing menu, but you can sort of imagine what type of food they serve. The prices are fair and the portions are large. We both ordered eggs, grits, toast, sausage, and bacon, and two different beverages and our total was a little over $11 and Mel couldn't finish her meal and I shared with FH. And Mel and I both got a refill to go and brought food home. The staff was kind, helpful, accommodating  and very friendly. We also received our meal in around 5-10 minutes after we had ordered it. And most importantly, the food was great and the coffee was very good and the kind waitress did not mind bringing me more half and half since I like a little coffee with my creamer. 

   Along with the usual breakfast items, they are known as a great meat and three restaurant. If you don't know what that is, it is a place that offers several choices of meat and then you can have three veggie or starch sides with your chosen meat. Mel and I love these kinds of places and I've heard that Cox does the meat and three right. Eating like this makes it feel much more like eating at your granny's table for Sunday lunch than going to another restaurant that is trying so hard to be what it is not. A place like the Cox Cafe doesn't have to buy things to make it authentic. Rather it is authentic. The pictures are of people who work there or who go there. The advertisements are for places where the workers and clientele actually go. And Cox Cafe, like most of these places, has a wall of business cards and homemade advertisements tacked to a whole section of the wall. And something I really like is that the workers knew the clientele by name and were familiar with their lives outside the restaurant. As we ate, there was a waitress rolling silverware and she wanted to know all about little FH and she told us all about her kids, but none of this was done in a nosy way. It was just something that doesn't take place much anymore except for in places like this and that is....real conversation. 

   No...don't go Cox and think you're getting food or people who've found the secret to cooking well with all USDA certified organic products and by eating the fare, you will be more healthy. If you are looking for that, go eat elsewhere. And no, the place is just what it is. You won't be impressed by the decor and the owners have not tried to fit in with the newest trends in restaurants. They have decorated the place for function and then moved on to making great food. And no, don't go to Cox Cafe looking for healthy choices or chic salad choices. They are a home-cooking kind of place. They serve food with a smile that will as my granny used to say, "stick to your ribs". 

    

     We will make a trip back to the Cox Cafe in the future. The food was too good and the service was too efficient and kind to not go back. I am hoping to catch the lunch menu next time and I hope to see you there.

Happy reading and happy eating,

    David 

Just Where I've Been and What I've Been Up To For the Last 24 Days

     Light moves at an astounding speed of 186,282 miles per second. We do not understand this type of speed. I am afraid we never will and that is fine with me. I don't want to live in a world without mystery or at least items to wonder about. I once drove a Volvo 240 DL with my older brother in the passenger seat 115 miles an hour over a long, flat road in Texas and felt as if I were flying and could barely feel the wheels coming into contact with the asphalt. I can still remember exactly how the steering wheel felt. I have flown in a commercial Air France jet liner and was told we were moving almost 500 miles an hour. And I have watched those same planes that move 300-500 miles hour get passed by clouds moving two or three times faster than that. All of these are almost too amazing for me to try and understand, so I wonder at them and hope to always to do so. So, I will know that light moves at 186,282 miles per hour, but I will never fully understand that. And life, I feel, is actually moving at a rate far bypassing that of light. I begin each week and before I have to time to gather my thoughts and get my grounding, it is Sunday and time to do it all over again. It is how after a brief moment elapsed my little baby boy is almost one. 365 days of life and it feels as if we've only had him a couple of weeks at the most.

     And so, I blogged 24 days ago, but it feels to me that only a few short days have gone by. And all this makes me remember a little room in Willet Science Center and an odd and  bearded physics teacher who spoke with a latin accent, but only when he spoke his name and our class discussions on how time isn't linear, but rather cylindrical and multi-layered and how it moves quickly at times while at other moments it moves slowly. I used to walk back to my little apartment room and think how he was crazy, but now I know he was onto something. Or how the earth is spinning 1000 miles an hour and when I come home at night the door of my home that I left from is around 9000 miles from where I left it. It has changed, but feels the same and so have I.  I still don't quite understand it, but don't feel I need to because it is like a work of art. I am no artist and certainly not an art critic, but feel I have no problem and no quams with knowing when I have seen one.

   Life is been flowing like a mighty and majestic river and I've been in the male storm and have felt it rage and wain. And here is what I have gotten to flow through, among, and over during the last 24 or so days.

     Each year, the school I currently teach at, Covenant Academy, takes its senior class on a class trip. The trip is suppose to be the final coming together of the class as they have spent the last 4-13 years together. They have taken the trip to a variety of places, but for the last two, they have gone to Disney World. Which is odd because I live in Macon, Georgia, but grew up 23 miles northeast of Orlando and each year for the last 5, I take a group of students down to the Sunshine State for some reason or another. And so this year, just like the previous four, I picked up a van, loaded it with kids gleefully ready to escape the confines of the school day and headed south. We stayed at a rental house, drove to a different theme park each day, and lived the life of a tourist for five straight days and then we loaded up again and headed north back to the confines of the "everydayness" of our lives. It was a good trip, but you don't get to blog when you are looking after 20+ seniors 24 hours a day. 

   Track season is here and it is full blown. My JV team is doing well for what we are. What we are is a small team numbers wise and small in stature. I have some kids with real talent and I have some kids with great hearts. We have a good little team. We've had two meets and come in 2nd or 3rd out of as many as 6  against some larger schools that have larger teams and practice at much better facilities. And my varsity team is getting better. We've also had two meets and they've gone ok, but that is all they need to be. Track is sort of like baseball in that way. You just have to keep moving along until you get to the later part of the season and that is when all the components need to come together and make the engine run. And so we are fine-tuning everything all the time. Putting together a winning track team is sort of like putting a puzzle together except you are cutting the pieces out as you go and never really know what you are working with until the end and hope you get it right. If this doesn't make sense, think about this: last year our best discus thrower was also our best discus guy. Or how my best female shot put thrower this year is also my fastest 800 runner. It is not always like that, but sometimes it is, so you have to be always looking in the oddest places to find what you need. But all this to say, when you are at track meets 10 hours a week or coaching 8 hours a week, you aren't blogging. 

     

     Few things are looked forward to like Spring Break is in a school environment. Students always wrongly assume that they couldn't survive without it and now that I've been on both sides of the spectrum, I can easily say that students should count their lucky stars that teachers get the break or things could get really ugly, really quickly come early May. I love Spring Break and always have and each year, I try to do something that is both physical and relaxing. I know Mel will disagree, but this is what I try to do. One Spring Break, Mel and I rode 200 miles on our bikes down the Natchez Trace. Another Spring Break we made a driving/hiking tour of three states' highest points. And another trip, we hiked on the Appalachian Trail. However, the last couple of years, we haven't done much of anything and I wanted to change that. And so we loaded up the Subaru Forester, all of our things, and this guy (see pic) and headed to the Lone Star State.  

   It took us a little over 16 hours to get to Waco, Texas and then a little over 22 hours to get back due to some very worthwhile stops (like Dreamland BBQ in Tuscaloosa, Alabama). And we got to spend the night in two different hotels and FH made the most out of the extra bed and the other amenities. The reason we went to Waco, Texas was not to pay homage to the Branch Dravidians, but rather to visit my older brother and his family. They have lived in the heart of Texas for the last 9 years and about three weeks before Spring Break my gracious older brother asked us to come visit them for our break and he offered to pay our way out there. It was an offer we couldn't refuse. I guess he is the Texas Godfather. We had been worried about the long drive and had visions of screaming and gnashing teeth due to an earlier little trip where we covered about 20 hours of travel in less than 50 hours where little, sweet, adorable Fordycakes had us going places mentally that Dante never could have imagined, but this trip, FH proved us wrong and did so well. He did get grumpy a few times, but who doesn't get grumpy while being in the car for close to 2000 miles. 

    We drove out to Texas on Saturday afternoon and stayed till Thursday and got home of Friday night. We had a great time and wished we could have stayed longer. We slept, we hiked, we ate some great food, we had some great talks, played catch, I went fishing, we visited the famous Baylor bears and where Dr. Pepper was invented, and Mel and I even went on a hot date (ALONE!!!) for the first time in 10 months. It was a wonderful time and I am so thankful we got to go. I wish that we lived closer to them. They are a great little family and live in a very beautiful place. I tell you all of this because when you are traveling with a 10 month old for around three days in a little car and then have a chance be in a larger place, you do not want to confine yourself to a keyboard and get in some screen time. And so, I did not put out a blog during that time either.

    So, as you can see, it is not too hard to imagine that 24 days could have flown by without a single blog post. It has been a good little bit of time and much good has occurred and we've made some great memories. But until the next post, you can think of me like the pic below. It is how I feel most of the time. I am always playing catch up even when I plan ahead. 

Happy reading and have a great rest of the week,

  David