$5

I had $5 on me and was looking for a cheap lunch. At a light be-boppin’ to a song on the radio, I see a beggar holding a sign,

“Hungry, anything will help”.

I feel a twinge of disgust and I look away like so many of us do and turn up the radio.

“If he spent half as much time looking for a job as he does panhandling, he wouldn’t need to be out here.”, I think.

“Pretty judgmental on your part don’t you think?” I hear in my head. I know who it is and I am immediately shamed. I knew instantly what He wanted me to do.

“But all I have is a single $5 to eat lunch on”.

“Give it to him” I hear.

“Crap.” (I admit, it’s not the greatest attitude to have when ‘blessing’ someone.)

And as I do, the man barely looks me in the eye, embarrassed by his predicament. He doesn’t even look at what I give him. He simply mutters,

“Thank you.” and moves away as if I am the one who has leprosy.

As I drive off I see in my review mirror the guy open his hand and see the $5. He smiles and clutches the money in his fist and pumps it like Tiger Woods just made an 18 foot put. He folds up his sign, jumped on his sorry excuse for a bike and rode over to the Wendy’s across the street jumped off and literally ran in the door.

“Eric, you don’t know the reason he is out here. He may have a legitimate reason or he could be scheming, you don’t know. You don’t need to know, you just need to obey and trust me. Besides, it’s not for you to judge him, that’s my job.”

I took the turnaround and went back to work. I didn’t quite know what to think. I felt ashamed that I had those thoughts about him without knowing anything about him. I felt incredibly good about being able to give to him so that he could go eat but at the same time, I was honestly a little miffed as well. I was hungry too and now I didn’t have a dime to buy lunch. I was confused.

I really was trying to take what He was teaching me to heart but it was tough. I’m not that nice of a guy or open minded when I’m hungry.

“It was my last stinkin’ $5! I’m carrying ones from now on.” I grumbled. “Just being honest here God. You asked that I give my last $5 to someone so that he could go eat. Umm, HELLO…I need to eat too. You obviously care about him but what about me?” (side note- sarcasm gets you know where with God)

As I walk back to my office, my boss calls out from the conference room for me to come in.

“What now?” I think. The only time he calls me into the conference room is to bust my chops about something. I walk in and I see a spread of food on the table fit for a king! Catered by everything Pappasito’s offers.

“The executive meeting ran long so everyone just left and didn’t eat. Take what you want” he says.

At that very moment, I understood grace.

I serve a great and loving God. Thank you God for your provision, in spite of myself.

Your humbled child,

Eric

No, I do not take pictures of cars.

As a Geographer I get asked, “So like, you know all the state capitols then, right?” Or when someone asks what I do and I reply, “Cartographer”, which is usually followed with a perplexing look on their face. “Wait for it” I say to myself, “So, you take pictures of cars?” Seriously, it happens more than you know.

Depressing really.

So here is a quick FYI on the subject of Geography/Cartography in case you happen to run into one on the street.

Geography in a nutshell asks the question ‘why’ not ‘where’. Shocking I know. Geography studies the ‘why’ when it comes to the location of things, cities for instance, “Why is Austin located where it is?” In order to know the why, Geographers have to have some knowledge of biology (plant and animal life), geology (formation of rocks, soils, i.e., Earth Sciences, etc.) They also study climate (weather patterns, natural disasters), economy (usually tied to disaster studies), Hydrology (water resources), and of course the human response to these things and the events that occur as well as the impact we have on the environment. All this data is quantifiable in a map. Once symbolized by a Cartographer a Geographer can study the data and recognize any patterns or such and answer the question, why. Lest I forget, an integral part of the study of Geography is time. Studying the same data over time can help answer the question as well.

As for Cartography, it is the accumulation of data (as mentioned above) that is expressed in spatial context to known geographical elements, in essence, the making of a map. Usually one uses a Geographic Information System (G.I.S) like I do. (www.esri.com) Cartography incorporates science (projections and datums and what-not) as well as art. Without getting nerdy, mathematical equations (projections) help portray a round world onto a flat surface and still maintain ‘shape’, ‘distance’ (between two points) or ‘area’, whichever is most important for the viewer to understand. Think of projections this way. Take a transparent globe and cut it in half. Hold one half in your hand in front of you and in the other hand shine a flashlight at it. The result would be a ‘projection’ on the wall of a three dimensional object (Earth) onto a two dimensional wall. The shape, distance and or area would be distorted. Certain projections help maintain these things depending on what’s most important. Ever notice that Greenland is about as big if not bigger than the U.S.A on a map but on a globe it’s smaller? Different maps have different priorities, shape, distance or area. As for the art side, well it’s just a matter of aesthetics really. It has been proven that a ‘beautiful’ map that is woefully incorrect will be trusted more so than an ugly map that is highly accurate. When it comes to making a map the colors, symbols and patterns all play a part in delivering a ‘believable’ message.

There are different maps for different reasons. Is it a map in a book like the Road Atlas (don’t need endangered species outlined on a road map do you?) or is it a huge wall map for public display? (You can’t have small text as most will be viewing the map from feet away rather than inches.) The intended use of a map along with the message to be delivered directs the cartographer in certain directions. Cartography is a fine balance of science and art. Delivering a ‘message’ that is accurate and beautiful is the sole responsibility of a cartographer.

So there you have it, a very general idea of Geography and Cartography. I stumbled into this field about 10 years ago and have found that I like it. I enjoy what I do and I often tell people that I play with colors and shapes for a living because most of the time, it’s true! HA! I also have to tell my wife, much to her dismay, just because I make maps for a living does not mean I know where I am or where I am going and no I will not stop and ask for directions! But if you want to test your ‘Geographical” knowledge of ‘where’, go here, it’s fun. http://www.lizardpoint.com/fun/geoquiz/index.html

Wanderlust…

Wanderlust, it’s an affliction really. I have always had a sense of exploration, even as a child. I would often take off on my bike and see how far I could ride.  As an adult, nothing has changed. I often take an afternoon and just drive. I LOVE to go nowhere in particular, just drive. Turn the cell phone off, roll the windows down, play a little music, don the shades and go see what’s out there.

A while back I took off after work on a Friday afternoon and set out on one of these drives and ended up in a subdivision that was being built out in the middle of nowhere’sville. I was somewhere in Blanco County I think, perhaps Llano. I had been on the road for an hour and a half  turning left and right every so often so I don’t know for sure.

It was one of those places were the well-to-do city slickers play ‘rancher’ by purchasing 10 or so acres or as the entrance sign called them, a ‘Ranchette’. It was in the beginning stages so there were no houses built, only the Sales office stood with it’s freshly stained cedar siding and a porch that stretched across the front. An old horse-drawn wagon was set off to the side. Multicolored streamers spanned the distance between tree and office and back again.  The real estate company’s sign had a giant picture of a smiling blonde lady with super white teeth that stared at you as you approached. Everything was so neatly tucked under the shading branches of a huge oak tree. The marketing people were doing their best to set the stage. The salesman, or lady I guess, had long gone but I drove by slowly looking for any signs of security.  I didn’t see any so I didn’t bother to stop.

The streets were somewhat cut in. An old yellow D-9 Cat (bulldozer) sat idle in a clearing waiting for Mr. Construction Man to come start it up again Monday morning to knock down some more trees. I kept driving and the little boy in me wondered what it would be like to drive one of those things. The streets soon faded to gravel roads then to jeep trails which then faded to matted grasses and then finally, nothing.  I guessed from then on where the road might go. I drove around stands of huge oak trees and groves of evergreen cedars. Followed a small shallow stream-bed then crossed it when I could. I bounced over rocky outcrops and dodged budding cacti. Scared some turkey and of course stopped and spotted some whitetail deer that were stamping their hooves in disapproval of my presence. I had apparently disturbed their early evening meal of freshly fallen acorns. Rabbits darted out from under this scrub brush to that one over there and a squirrel leapt from branch to branch chasing another in what I can only assume was a game of tag. I slowly made my way back farther and farther away from the paved highway and the buzzing and humming wheels of the passing trucks. After 40 minutes or so I crested the top of a hill and stopped. The view was breathtaking. Being a Texan I have no shame in saying this, very little in this world compares to the Texas Hill country on a clear cool afternoon in late October. The smell of cedar was in the air and the wind had the slightest Northern nip to it. The setting sun was laying a golden blanket on the valley and surrounding hills that stretched out to the horizon. There were no clouds and I could see for miles. It was simply beautiful. I stood there under an oak tree and thought how stunning this place was and how privileged I am to witness it. I looked up into the tree and saw a dilapidated deer blind. It obviously had seen better days. The wood is now a silver-gray in color and splintered. Branches have grown in and around and over parts of it, the rest lies rotting in a pile at the base of the tree covered by years of leaves and dirt. Rusted nails stood exposed in the side of the tree holding nothing other than a few stands of Spanish Moss that blew in the wind. I took in a deep breath and smiled, this was a perfect spot for an impromptu camp sight and a good conversation with God. I would not be going home tonight. I gathered some fallen branches and the pile of rotting wood from the deer blind and made a small fire. I rolled out my blankets that I keep in my truck box and laid there with the gentle breeze blowing, smoking my pipe and reading Wild at Heart by John Eldredge in the fading light of the sun.

As light gave way to the hues of blue and purple and then finally black, the stars began to make their appearance; one here, then a few over there, as if gathering for a show to watch and marvel at the splendor of God’s creation.  Conversation was good, as it always is. You learn things from God when you give Him the time. You learn that you are loved like no other. Cuddled by the warmth of the fire and my soul now satisfied with time spent communing with my God, I listened to the crackling fire as  my eyes began to grow heavy. And with the mental image of God sitting next to me tending the fire, I welcomed the mistress of slumber.

Observations and Sniffings

I have been road biking for a year now….I still don’t ride as much as I like or can but in my brief year of riding on the road (rural in my case) I have made few observations that I would like to share with you.  Here’s three.

1. After a certain time your tookas gets numb and then it doesn’t matter how long you are in the saddle.

2. The last 100 yards to any rest stop will be uphill.

3. You can smell road kill long before you can see it and long after you have ridden past it.

Farming in Facebook

I like playing Farmville.  It’s relaxing for me.  Gets my mind off of things and allows me to disengage for a while. My wife Millie says you can tell a lot about a person by the way they keep their “farm”.  Like me for instance, I like things in order, understated but with just a touch of flair.  If you were to look at my farm you would see that I have my trees all grouped together by vegetation type and all are separated by a small space.  I go one step further and place them in chronological order based on when I will be able to harvest them. I know, borderline O.C.D.  Animals are kept the same way…Okay, so maybe it’s not borderline but full-blown.  The “flair” manifests itself in how I plant my crops.  I plant them in geometric shapes by color and height and what-not. The other thing I do on my farm is FARM. Some who farm in Farmville have all kinds of stuff like ponds, fences, wheelbarrows, bales of hay, etc. I don’t, I have a tractor, a harvester and a seeder. I do what you are supposed to do on a farm, FARM. You grow things, you produce and reproduce a harvest, you get a plan – you work the plan, you tend to your farm.

I know, I know, I sound just like my dad… I am so my dad.

Back to what my wife says.  It’s true, at least for me.  I like having all of my ducks in a row, in Farmville and in real life, although, in real life they may not always be. I am easily distracted and I wonder at times if my O.C.D. has A.D.D.

I like tending to my farm.  There is a sense of accomplishment when I plow and sow seed and of course there is a reward for harvesting.  In Farmville, your crops and everything else grow over hours or days depending on the item and you have to harvest them before they go bad so there is a bit of attentiveness that one must pay when “farming”.  It’s relatively easy to tend to your farm in Farmville.

You might be asking yourself, “Why am I wasting time reading something someone wrote about a farming game?”  Good question.  I’ll explain.

I was “farming” a few nights ago and a thought came to me.

“Do I have a farm in real life and if I do, what does it consist of?

“If I have a farm in real life, do I tend to it as well as I tend to things in Farmville?”

Hmmf.  Tend, Tending, Tend to … the word TEND kept rolling around in my head.  What was it about this word that kept rattling around in my brain like a marble in a bucket making all kinds of racket?  This is usually how He does it with me….He puts something in my head and I can’t stop thinking about it until I realize, “OH, I need to look into that.”  Sometimes I go for days thinking of someone then it finally hits me, “Pray for them, you dork! God’s only been bring him to mind for four days, you’d think you’d get a clue or something.”  I’m not very polite when I talk to myself sometimes.

But this time I took the clue early and decided to look ‘Tend’ up in the dictionary and this is what I found.

Tend:

Function : verb

Etymology: Middle English, short for attenden to attend

Date: 14th century

Intransitive verb

1. Archaic : listen (to pay attention to)
2. : to pay attention: apply oneself <tend to your own affairs> <tend to our correspondence>
3. : to act as an attendant : Serve (to be a servant) <tended to his wife>
4. : obsolete : await (to lie in wait for)

Transitive verb

1. Archaic: to attend as a servant
2. A : to apply oneself to the care of : watch over <tended her sick father.

B : to have or take charge of as a caretaker or overseer <tend the sheep>

C : Cultivate (to foster the growth of), Foster (affording, receiving, or sharing nurture or parental care though not related by blood or legal ties)

D : to manage the operations of : Mind (to attend to closely)<tend the store><tend the fire>

1. : to stand by (as a rope) in readiness to prevent mischance (as fouling).

WOW…look at all those words… tend, tending, listen, attention, pay attention, serve, to serve, apply oneself, watch over, caretaker, overseer, cultivate and foster, to stand by….

“OK God, what are you saying?”  I had to ask.  I immediately thought of Adam and Eve in the garden and how God gave them instructions to “tend” the garden and take care of it (Gen. 2:15).  They were not to just sit back and enjoy the fruits of nature.  While in the garden (before sin) they were given the charge to take care of it, nurture it, foster it, cultivate it, pay attention to it, be the overseers of it, to apply themselves to it, to watch over it, to manage it, to stand by it, and well, TEND to it and make it GROW.

The questions came back to me on my drive into work this morning.

“Do I have a farm in real life and if I do, what does it consist of?

“If I have a farm in real life, do I tend to it as well as I tend to things in Farmville?”

Well, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure this one out folks.  My “farm” consists of the things that God has given me, my wife, children, friends, job, house, pets, vehicles, my life, this body, etc…. What the Garden of Eden was to Adam and Eve, these are to me; these gifts from God are my Garden of Eden. And as they were charged with the nurturing and overseeing and serving of the garden, I too am charged concerning my wife, children and all possessions that god has entrusted to me.

I am to tend to my garden, take charge of it, take care of it, nurture it, foster it, cultivate it, pay attention to it, be the overseer of it, to apply my hand to it, to watch over it, to manage it, to stand by it, and to grow it.

So again, back to the questions,

“Do I have a farm in real life and if I do, what does it consist of? Yes I do and we just went over that.

“If I have a farm in real life, do I tend to it as well as I tend to things in Farmville?” “Sure I do”, “No problem”, “Of course I do” are the immediate thoughts I have but upon further inspection of my heart, I must admit, I am lacking. I could do better on all accounts. Just take a look at my yard for instance, it’s been the hottest summer on record with the least amount of rain and I haven’t watered it since my neighbor starting reeling up his hose at night.  It’s brown and patchy with what is apparently a super weed that has the ability to suck the last remaining bit of moisture out of the air and stay green and if you’re quiet, you can hear my trees whistling for my dogs. It’s a simple task to water ones yard but yet…

So what is God saying to me?  I think there are two things here, one being more about the physical and the other being more spiritual.

1. I need to pick it up a notch or two and who cares as to the “why” (excuse) I am not tending as I should. “Waaa, work was horrible today” or “I hate my commute!” or the ever popular, “I’m just too tired”. Whatever the excuse…it’s just that, an excuse.  Get over it, it is what it is and you are where you are, get up and move on (speaking to myself of course). Given enough time I (as well as you) can justify any action we take or lack thereof. So in the end, I need to tend to my garden with a little more care and attentiveness.  Apply my hand a little harder to the task at hand. I must throw off the sorrows of yesterday, lay down the burdens of today and step over the worries of tomorrow and be about the business of God in my life.
2. I need to grow, which means I need to read His word more. It’s not enough to just tend the garden, I must make it grow. It’s like the three servants who were given five, three and one talents (money) by their master. It was expected for them to go and multiply what they were given.  For those who did more was given and for that one who buried the money and didn’t do anything with it, everything was taken from him and given to those who did something (Matthew 25:14-30). I don’t know about you but I don’t like having things taken from me and I certainly don’t want to be guilty of not doing and not growing. I grow when I feed myself the Word of God and associate myself with the things and people of God.  I need to read His Word more and let it roll through my thoughts and fill my heart. I need to plow up the hard ground in my life and make room for God. This reminds me of the prayer of Jabez, which is found in 1 Chronicles 4:10. “Oh, that you would bless me and enlarge my territory! Let your hand be with me, and keep me from harm so that I will be free from pain.” (Emphasis added).  In Farmville you have the option to increase the size of your farm and as a result? When you increase the size of your farm, it allows you to plant more and reap a bigger harvest (grow more). This holds true with God in my life.  The more room I give God, the more I will benefit from it and reap from it and the harvest spills over to others as well which leads to…you guessed it…tending the garden!

So to summarize,

1. I need to get off my butt

2. Study God’s word more.

Hmmf.   Who knew playing a game would lead to this?  I serve a gracious God who by His choice has instructed me through a silly game.  I will strive to be a good student and apply what I have been shown.

Why I Ride

Humming to myself, I was in a good mood as I headed into the office early to get some work done while it was still quiet. You know those days, the peace and tranquility of your office in the early dark morning. I was looking forward to the opportunity to have a hot cup of coffee and settle in to knock out some work, to revel in the knowledge I was being productive.

Bounding up the stairs, I unlocked the door and I started towards my office in the dark. I passed by my boss’s office and something out of the corner of my eye caught my attention, I am surprised to see her. I step into her office doing a very bad impression of Kramer and smile,

“Good morning! I see we both had the same idea to get here early.”

She is wrapped in a blanket sitting at her desk, illuminated only by the glow of a tiny desk lamp. She looks up at me and I knew. She is pale, gaunt and shivering. Her eyes were red and puffy, the way eyes look when they are done crying, when no more tears will come but sadness, pain or confusion has not left. Instinctively I go and kneel by her side and wrap my arms around her. She is so frail; I fear that I might hurt her. She weakly clutches my arm and lays her head on my shoulder. Through the whimpers of a tired, emotionally drained soul I hear her say, “They found more.” Minutes pass of her crying with no tears, then, in a barely audible voice she adds, “I don’t think I can do this again.”

A flood of emotions and thoughts rush through me. NO! NO! NO! I scream in my head, not again! I grit my teeth as I settle on an emotion and grab hold of anger with both hands. My heart races as adrenaline is pumped through my body. I so desperately want to kill it and I am gladly and wantonly filled with hatred and rage for this interloper, but I am tempered by her presence and her condition. I kneel there holding her gently all the while cursing this with everything in me.

They found Squamous cell carcinoma in her throat, the fourth form of cancer in eight years; she has fought a long hard battle and won the fight against an opponent that began its onslaught in her breast then quickly moved to her lungs and then into her bones. Then it shows up as Uterine cancer and then Melanoma and now…now this.

She’d been there before, the chemotherapy, the radiation, losing her hair, the rashes, the nausea and vomiting; the weakness and quite literally, being bone tired. She endured long hand-numbing cold hours on the tables getting scanned, poked, prodded and pricked with needles, swallowing this pill or that one or these four. Yes, she’d been there before.

If there is one thing I know about my boss, it’s that she is a fighter. She didn’t turn over and let cancer have its way with her body. She fought it every step of the way and she won. She didn’t accept her first doctor’s diagnosis. She fought with the system and got accepted into a clinical trial. She was not going down without a fight. Through those years I watched her. She lived her life. She came to the office to work and she had fun when she could. She took her work home with her or to MD Anderson while undergoing chemo so she could keep up with it. Many at our office told her to go home or asked, “Why are you here?”

Those who worked side by side with her knew why. She had a life to live and wasn’t going to let cancer alter that. But this time, for the first time I heard her say, “I don’t know if I can do it again.” Hearing her say that scared me. I was frustrated, confused, and angry. I wanted to be able to identify with her, to carry some of her burden and say, “I can only imagine what you are going through.” But in all honesty, I have no clue. I have never been faced with losing my life if I didn’t take action, so how could I imagine? So I just sat there quiet.

We sat there in the light of that tiny lamp. It’s not a strong light but it was enough to hold back the darkness that was around us. I knew nothing I could do at that moment but pray, to stand on her behalf and take this to my Father, my God; to Christ Jesus and offer a prayer of comfort, peace, and healing through faith; and much like that tiny lamp, offer a prayer of hope that would pierce the darkness and set its anchor in God.

My boss is not the only one who I know who has dealt with cancer. I lost my grandfather to cancer. One of the godliest women I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, Ginger Azzaro, battled cancer. And a few others I know have battled or are in the midst of battling cancer. We all, in some form or fashion have been affected by cancer, either personally or through a loved one, friend or associate. I don’t know about you, but I hate it.

I hate cancer.

I remember that feeling of hate and rage that morning, of having that feeling of everything in me yearning to destroy it, and the companion feeling of helplessness. But what can I do? What can I, Eric, do? I’m not a research scientist, haven’t got the gray matter to be. I’m not a doctor or nurse. Not a multi-millionaire able to give grants to studies and research for cures. I am a no-body, an average run-of-the-mill kind of guy, an average “Joe.” Typical middle-aged graying head, out of shape man with responsibilities to a wife, kids, a job and of course, my God. So, what can I do to fight cancer?

The answer unexpectedly came last summer. Another co-worker of mine, John, is really into road biking. You’ve seen them, those skinny-tire bikes where evidently, it’s required to wear skin-tight flashy clown clothes to ride them. He’s a good guy and very fit. I think to myself, “I like biking, at least I used to. Yea, that sounds like a good idea.”

I need to exercise anyway. My wife tells me that I need to get into shape and my general smart-ass remark is, “Hellooo…round is a shape!” But the truth is, I really do need to get into shape, be fit, and get active and all that other stuff health nuts are always telling us to do.

The final push for me to get out and ride came when John told me about the LiveSTRONG Challenge that was happening in late October.

“What’s that?” I asked.

He pointed me to their web site. As I sat there reading and clicking through the pages, something in me jumped and I realized that this was my answer. This is how I, your average run-of-the-mill kind of guy, could help. Through the LiveSTRONG Foundation I can help fight cancer! Their primary way of making the world aware and raising money for research and hospital care is through the LiveSTRONG Challenges. There are four Challenges held each year and they are held in four different cities, Seattle, San Jose, Philadelphia and Austin. I was excited that I could DO something instead of feeling helpless, so I immediately signed up to ride the 45 mile route. They have a 90 mile route but I’ll let the mentally unstable among us like my friend John do that one.

I haven’t ridden a bike in I don’t know how long. I didn’t have a road bike, as John strongly suggested I buy but I did have a mountain bike. So I began my “training” and it lasted the impressive duration of one morning. I got on my mountain bike one early Saturday morning last June. With its knobby tires and front and rear shocks, I proceeded to ride to Andice, Texas, some 12 miles away. I figured no problem, it’s just sitting and pedaling, right? And of course I had my fancy-dancy CamelBak filled with that flashy red stuff Tiger Woods drinks. I was set!

An hour and 20 minutes later I arrive. Think about it, 80 minutes to cover 12 miles. I couldn’t feel anything from the waist down and I think I dropped a testicle somewhere around mile eight. After coming to a stop and through the generosity of a stranger helping me off my bike, I called my wife to come get me. John was right when he said I needed a road bike.

After weeks of looking and sharing my new found knowledge of all things road bike with my wife, much to her dismay, I bought a bike made by Jamis, The Satellite. One of only a few that were in my price range. It’s a great bike for a beginner. 520 Chromoly steel with carbon fiber forks. Very smooth ride. I LOVE this bike. Now armed with a true road bike I found I was able to make it to Andice and back with relative ease. With five weeks to go at this point, I felt ready for the 45 mile ride…I wasn’t. It was late October and the time had come.

The start of the day was not good. My alarm clock did not go off. I awoke with 30 minutes to get to Dripping Springs, more than an hour away. I panicked. I roll up on my bike after parking three miles away, to the back of the 10-miler pack. My group (45 milers) had already left.

“30 seconds to start!” blares the loud speaker.

I grabbed a bottle of something out of the ice chest and poured it into my water bottle, stuck it in the carriage and took off. I stopped at the first rest stop, five miles into the ride and did some stretches and signed the board in memory of Ginger Azzaro; refilled my water bottles and got back on the road. The weather was incredible, even a tad cool every now and then. Throughout the ride there are rest stops and of course this is a supported ride, meaning that there are vans going back and forth on the course changing flats and fixing bikes and for those that bit off more than they can chew, pick up the rider and take them to the finish line. Mind you now, the most I have ridden at any one time was 24 miles, from my home to Andice and back. Here, I was basically attempting to do that (mileage wise) twice in one day!

I took advantage of every rest stop. The largest was at mile 26. It was on a part of the course where all the routes came back together, the 90, 65 and 45 milers were all there. It was a madhouse. There was more food, drinks and even Mellow Johnny’s (Lance’s store) was handing out their signature espresso and coffees. They also had their mechanics working on bikes and fixing everything from grips and shifters to seats and chains for free!

A medical team tended to dehydrated riders and a massage therapy group offered cots where they worked out cramps and soreness if you wanted. I thought about lying on a cot but then realized I would probably not get up. I chatted with a fellow from Oklahoma. He planned to ride the 90 miles but the hills were killing him and now the 65 was proving to be too much, so he opted for the 45. He was a nice guy. He was a cancer survivor. There were quite a few of survivors riding. I don’t know the exact number but total riders were in the five to six thousand range.

Back on the bike and on down the road I go. I was tired. My back and legs hurt. I could feel the back of my neck getting scorched. At one point I was going so slowly that a butterfly passed me.

Seriously…a butterfly. Whatever.

I was also passed by an older gentleman. I thought, “Good Lord dude, you’re gonna die.” Sweat was pouring off his face and he looked to be around 55 or 60 or so. Graying hair and round like me, totally not a biker like so many of us out there. I was going to ask if he was all right and if he needed some water — then that’s when I noticed that it wasn’t sweat, it was tears. He rode past slowly, head down breathing hard. On his back I saw a sign and a picture of a young man. It read,

“In memory of my son, Ian. I love him.”

As I watched him slowly move on ahead, sadness draped across him like a blanket, it hit me. This ride is hard. It’s incredibly difficult to ride this many miles. I was hurting bad. Like I said before, my legs were killing me, my back was cramping and stiff and my hands were aching. I was uncomfortable and I just wanted the ride to be over and get off the damn bike! But seeing that old man brought it all home for me, in a shameful way.

Here I am riding a stinkin’ bike. In an event where they offer everything; food, drinks, mechanical support as well as emotional support. The support was incredible. The ranch owners along the way decorate their gates and cheer you on, the local high school band plays and the cheerleaders are there to encourage you to keep going. It’s a great event and I know that if for some reason I can’t go on anymore, or I reach my limit or I have no more fight left in me, all I have to do is raise my hand and a van will come get me and take me to the finish line. As daunting as this ride was proving to be and as I struggled with every pedal stroke, I realized it pales in comparison to what my boss went through.

I, while riding a bike, had the option to quit; they, who have cancer, do not. They can’t raise their hand and quit cancer.

This is why I rode in the Challenge last year. This is why I will ride in it this year, and I will ride in it every year that I can, and if I can’t ride I will run and if I can’t run, I will walk. Seeing that old man ride and feeling the pain in my own body, on some level, allows me to identify with my boss and what she has endured.

I want to encourage you to join me. It’s not too late to sign up. If you would rather walk or run, you can do that, or if you would like to ride, come join me. I am stepping it up this year; I chose the 60 mile route. Am I in shape for it? If round is a shape then yes, I am in perfect shape. Will it hurt? Hell yes it will. Will I feel it for the next week, probably. Will I help fight cancer? You bet, and that my friend is how a no-body like me can fight cancer and you can too.

If you are not inclined to physically participate then you can certainly help fight cancer by making a donation. Thank you for taking the time to read this. It means a lot to me.

By the way, my boss? That fighter’s spirit came roaring back and she’s still my boss, and my friend and full of life. The metal mesh mask they used to pin her down to the table during treatments, now hangs on her wall to hold all the scarves she used to cover her hairless head and just several weeks ago, her doctor gave her a complete clean bill of health!

Cancer free, my friends, cancer free. Praise God.

Eric

To make a donation for my ride this year please follow the link below to my LiveSTRONG web page and thank you so very much. http://www.kintera.org/faf/donorreg/donorpledge.asp?ievent=294758&supId=245335577&msource=boundlessfun&msource=LSCAUS09BF

Kayaking.

A brief history….I cannot tell you how many times I have passed over Town Lake….er, Ladybird Johnson Lake…..oh whatever….Town Lake it will always be and have been so jealous of the paddlers on the water, specifically the kayakers. I have always thought that sport looked like a lot of fun. Well years have gone by with me driving over the lake looking and wondering what it would be like. I have never been on a kayak and always wanted to do it but never had the time. A while back, my wife and I take our kids on a camping trip to the Frio river down at Garner State Park. Through a series of events we found ourselves without the kids and standing at the kayak rental shop. To be honest, I just didn’t want to spend the money but my wife insisted and we did. She said, “You always talk about wanting to try it so why not?” So we did. As it turns out, it didn’t really tickle my fancy but my wife on the other hand….well she was like a gnat on the thing…paddling here to there then back over here and on to there…..paddling everywhere and going nowhere and LOVING IT! She was so cute on the thing and was very good at it. I on the other hand fell off….4 times and couldn’t get back on it, which of course added to her joy. It was a serious disappointment for me. For so long having wanted to and anticipated liking the sport, well, it sucked really. That was until this past Saturday evening. I have a friend that owns her own kayak shop. I didn’t know this until just recently and I also made the mistake of getting my wife and her in contact with one another. They set up this time to “try out” a kayak or two down on Town Lake. We first had to go get the kayaks at her house. We opened the garage and you would have thought my wife was having a heart attack. “Aren’t those beautiful” I think is what she said as she clapped her hands. Loaded up and on our way we hit the water at 7:00. It was FANTASTIC! Having a quality kayak under you makes all the difference in the world. I was on the Heritage Redfish 14 footer, it was smooth. My wife was on the 12 and our friend was on the 10. We paddled ever so slowly towards Redbud Isle. We put in at the ramp located right by Austin High School. It was so much fun and relaxing. The night was perfect and the waters was as well. It was so cool to paddle and take in the scenery. You are so quiet on those things..no wonder fishermen like to use them. The sun was setting and the lights were starting to come on, so very nice. My wife and my friend hit it off and paddled next to each other the whole night chatting about anything and everything. I stayed away due to my inconsistent direction of paddling. I didn’t want to ram them with my boat. My friend makes it looks so easy, raising her knees and resting her arms on them and just gently paddling….hopefully, someday I can get to that point and being so at ease on the kayak.

Here’s a couple of shots from that night. 

My feet. I tried to get a shot looking the up the lake but the current kept turning me, so this is what you get to see.

 

My wife and our friend “chatdling” (chatting and paddling) as they did all night.

 

 

I don’t think this smile left her face.

 

 

We stayed out until dark and it was really  a lot of fun.

 

No lights except for the lights over Mopac and the paddle/party boat. That was fun, only cause I really went after it and caught up with it and passed it. Everyone on the boat was snapping pictures of the kayaker passing them. It was funny and I am sore. It was a work out but I LOVED IT. I let up to wait for my wife and our friend who were just lazily paddling back towards the ramp. A few more shots… All in all, it was a great evening of fun and relaxation. We are now in the market for some kayaks and we have discussed getting the kids involved. Who knows, maybe we can turn this into a family thing……but then again, why mess up a streak? 2 for 2-kayaking with no kids! LOL!

Wednesday Nights

I love my church.

I love the staff.

I love the people.

It is awesome.

I love Sunday mornings but I LOVE Wednesday nights better. Sundays are good, great in fact but there’s just something that is extra special about Wednesday nights. The first Wednesday of every month sees our church involved in communion and extended worship…pretty much the entire service.  There is a sense of real family. A oneness with each other and of course with Christ.  It’s an incredible experience to be in the midst of people (most of which I do not know) and feel absolutely free to worship my God.  To know that all those other people are free to do the same and are doing it is, well, just way cool!  The experience of corporate worship is like nothing else on Earth.  

It is comforting.

It is encouraging.

It is strengthening.

It is peaceful

It is relieving.

It is a hunger that is satisfied.

 

I thank God for my worship leader Daniel,  Mr. GT (for Gifted and Talented.) and the band.  I wish I knew their names…they are all so good.  Love the bass player, he’s always jammin’ with a big smile.  The drummer is just out of this world good.  Josh I know, the guitarist. No other words can describe him…simply amazing.  Everyone involved in the leading of Praise & Worship, dedicating there talents, time and energy, all in an effort to lead us into a time of Praise and Worship, week in and week out.  I thank God for all of them and I thank God for Wednesday nights at Celebration.

Fire

February 26 found my father-in-law’s ranch on fire.

The short story.

Army Corp. of Engineers own land across the road and were having a couple of guys build a new fence.  Get this…it’s 90 degrees, 5% humidity and the winds are out of the West-Northwest at roughly 20 to 25 mph….and they are WELDING in knee high grass.  This particular area has not seen rain in months, so everything is D-R-Y!.  They had no spotter or water on hand.  It didn’t take long for the fire to reach the road and jump the 60 feet to my father-in-law’s place.  It then preceded directly towards his log home.  It took 29 men from six different volunteer fire departments nine hours to put the fires out and keep it from getting to the house.  Even then it got to within feet of the house.  I stayed up watching the hot spots and making sure that none flared up again.  A few did and we had to put them out.  Early Friday morning, estimated winds for that day were again in the 20 to 25 mph range and who is out there continuing to build and WELD?  You got it, the illegals that the Army Corp. of Engineers hired to build the fence….OK, let’s be fair…the A.C.o.E hired a construction company who hired the illegals, who by the way, when we arrived, had no supervision and still no water.  Unbelievable.  Funny how they disappeared when the sheriff came out to investigate.  So Friday was spent putting out the hot spots and the flare-ups.  Saturday saw winds in the 30 to 35 mph range and we ended up calling the Fire department out again when the fires got to be a little hard to reach and or to big for us to handle.

All through Thursday night, Friday and Friday night, you could hear trees falling.  The fire was burning the base of trees and when it burned through or enough of it, the tree would fall over and sometimes catch fire.

I have a whole new respect for fire and firemen.  I have lost respect for the Army Corp of Engineers who don’t even follow basic guidelines.  We went to the local Corp office and spoke with the manager.  On the front desk was a pamphlet on how to avoid fires when welding.  We showed that to the manager and said that they don’t even follow their own rules when it came to welding…his reply, “Those aren’t our rules, those are the Texas Forestry rules.”

 Really? We’re gonna spilt hairs here?  How about a little common sense?  Oh I’m sorry, your the Federal government, there is no common sense…better stop here before I go on a rant.

It should have never happened.

Clydesdale???

As some of you know, I am training to be in my first Triathlon in early May. It consists of a 300 meter swim, 11 mile bike ride and a 2 mile run, it’s called the Rookie for obvious reasons.  I sink like a rock when I swim, I wobble when I ride and I just flat out don’t like running, so this should be interesting.

Being new to the world of Triathlons, I am learning lots of interesting things like, Triathletes fall into different classes and I found out that I fall into the class of “Clydesdale”…seriously…a Clydesdale?  Could they not choose a better word?

I am considered a “Clydesdale” because I am over 200 pounds.   

For a sport that is trying to grow in popularity, you would think they would try to ingratiate themselves to potential newbies.  

 

Clydesdale…

 

Who came up with the 200 pound limit and why would there need to be another class for HEAVIER people in a sport that is purely aerobic?  Heavier people would, in my humble opinion, have a harder time competing in this sport.

Clydesdale…really?

What do they expect me to do, run with blinders on?

Wear fuzzy white leggings? 

They probably give us “Clydesdales” harnesses instead of a bib numbers and make us start from a chute.

 

Clydesdale….hmmph

Hope I don’t fall and break a leg…the medic will just shoot me.

Clydesdale…

I think the last time I weighed less than 200 pounds was when the Dr. hung me upside down and slapped me on my rear.