My History with the Lord (Getting Saved)

489

Leah Moats talked to me at a regional high school choir competition in Bloomfield, IA.  I didn't know her other than I had been a jerk to her one time in the cafeteria.  I don't really remember our conversation other than it was...well...real. It was about "something."  I don't remember what that "something" was but she never mentioned church or God or religion and I had never had a conversation like it before.

She invited me to a Bible Study at her house led by Sam Dye.  I was feeling pretty hostile towards religion, but I still went.  I remember siting in the corner, trying not to be seen.  I remember bristling at the sound of Sam's voice.  You could tell he was completely confident in what he was saying, and that was making me mad because I was completely confident he was full of bull.

I started going to Sam and Deb's house every Wednesday.  I remember hanging with a group of people who I never would have thought would look my way, or I their way.

The first prayer I ever prayed went something like this, "God, I know you're not there. I'm never going to stop doing anything I'm doing unless you do something about it, which I know you won't, because you're not even there to hear me say any of this."  Before the end of the week I was in-jail and out of school.  I began to pay attention.

I had a bookshelf in my room.  On that shelf  was a paperback book with "Reach Out" on the cover. The letters were a cut-out photograph of a bunch of long-haired 70's Jesus People singing around a campfire.  I don't know how long that book had sat there, or even how it got there. But I pulled it off and went to the first page.  The was a list of references on that page.  The first reference was, "If you are sad, go to this verse..." Honestly, I don't remember the verse, all I remember was reading it and crying...sobbing, actually.  It was all so "true."  I  had spent the previous 7 months being so thirsty.  After weigh-in I would run to a faucet and just suck down water until I thought I would burst.  That's how I felt right then. I didn't realize how thirsty I was. But as soon as I got one drop on my tongue, there was no stopping me.

Leah, Sam, Debra, and Ginny put up with a lot of my "stuff."  They were all very patient, and I knew they loved me.  I never doubted my purpose again. I knew that God was always facing me, looking at me, and that His hand was ever upon me. I feel like my life started May 3rd, 1980, at Lake Red Rock.

My History with the Lord (Wrestling)

490

I should have been a basketball player.

I was tall. I could jump. I could run.

But I went out for wrestling in 4^th and 5^th grades in Algona, that’s what the fat kids did. When we moved to Knoxville, I went out for wrestling in 6^th grade and had some success. So I continued to go wrestle. When I was in 9^th grade I was on the varsity at 155 lbs, and no, I didn’t cut weight and yes, I was 6’4”.

I got pinned a lot.

I remember wrestling a senior from Lincoln High School.  He won the Mr. Iowa body building competition.  Not some Jr. or High School version of Mr. Iowa, but the Mr. Iowa.  I was exactly 1 foot taller than him.  He didn’t pin me until the 2^nd period.  I won 1 varsity match that year.

My sophomore year I wrestled at 185 lbs because I weighed 170.  We needed a wrestler there and it was a close call between me and Charlie Miller.  So I wrested guys who cut weight to get to 185 where I just showed up and wrestled.  I was about a .500 wrestler that year. I won some matches, lost a bunch, won a sophomore tournament and beat some guys I wasn’t supposed to beat.  The coaches and pretty much everyone else expected me to get out of the sectional tournament the next year and possibly go to state.

Wrestling is not a team sport. It is a very personal sport.  You are pitted against an opponent who is your equal and you attempt to make them submit to your will.  You do this with very few clothes on and in front of a large crowd.  At Knoxville High School we even had a giant lamp that came down from the ceiling and illuminated only the mat.  So if you were pinned, you were pinned under a spotlight. Some funny guy even placed a sign on the ceiling over the mat that read, “If you can read this sign, you are being pinned.”  I read that sign many times.

I took losing very hard and very personally.  I was not rooted in just the intrinsic goodness of me just being.  I was performance-based in the view of myself.  But really, that was pretty inconsistent, because I was not good in school and didn’t get good grades, I really only had one close friend and I think I was about 5^th on his list. I had had a couple of girls I liked who only slightly liked me back, and I was an average wrestler, but I wanted to be great.  The only think I was good at was singing, but I didn’t value that (oh, silly Chris, the heartache you could have avoided.) So I looked forward to the next season, my Junior year.

During the summer after my Sophomore year I had my driver’s license, a 1974 blue Chevy Vega notchback with no air, and my parent’s good will, so I did a lot of wild stuff. Stupid stuff. Dangerous stuff.  Then a funny thing happened after the summer at the beginning of football season.  I was good at football.  I made a lot of tackles and sacks.  I played offense and defense.  I got some letters from some colleges, and I made All-Conference.  I was in the piedmonts of my goal, the mountains of wrestling.

I had grown a little bit. I weighed in the 180s, but I was determined to wrestle at 167 lbs.  It was only 20 lbs, but there was nowhere for it to come off.  So I stopped eating, stopped drinking, and worked out 3 times a day.   I would work-out early in the morning before school, then after school.  I would go home in my basement and run for another hour, then I would sweat as much as I could in the hottest bath I could stand afterwards. I became obsessed with weighing myself.  I weighed myself 10 times a day, stripped to my drawers.  A wrestling room is not a pleasant place to be.  It stinks and you torture yourself and your friends.  I hated my coach (he used to play Dolly Parton 8-tracks while we wrestled.)  But I had a belief that If I could make the weight, I would dominate.

Our first tournament was at Lynnville-Sully.  I weighed in at 165 lbs.  I lost my first two matches and didn’t place, I was crushed.  Looking back, of course I couldn’t do well. I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, I had no strength, I was getting psychotic because of the abuse my body was taking (and not sleeping.)  By the middle of the season my record was 5 wins 10 losses. I wrestled this guy from Wayne of Corydon.  A guy who had moved up a weight because their stud wrestler at 167 was out with an injury.  I had wrestled him a year earlier and had pinned him easily. Through the first two periods I was beating him soundly, but the third period, I broke down, and he came back.  I remember just leaping in the air after that match and pounding the mat, right in front of everyone.  My coach had to come get me off the mat.  It was a long ride home.  The coaches tried to talk to me, but they just ended up making me even madder.  It was right then and there I made the decision, “After this year, I’m done.”

My record for the rest of that year was 12 wins and 3 losses.  I won 3^rd in my conference and wrestled-back with a chance to move on after sectionals.  None of that mattered. I had moved on in my heart. I never wrestled again after that season.  I learned how to drink alcohol and still make weight.  I was looking forward to eating again, although it took me about a year to get myself to a place where I would eat an adequate amount without feeling anxious, even after I was saved, (ah, those were the days.)  I went on a binge after that that sent me over the edge.

I got arrested at the boy’s state basketball tournament for public intoxication.  I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t move.  All I could do was slump in the back of the police cruiser.  I remember looking up and seeing those two officers in the front seat turned around and just laughing at me hysterically, (I'm not sure if that really happened, I just remember it that way) I was in the adult drunk tank in the Polk County jail and waiting for my parents to drive the hour to pick me up.  I really wanted to die, really.

chris

My History with the Lord (Pretense)

491

Pretense: “An attempt to make something that is not the case appear true” or “A false display of feelings, attitudes, or intentions.”

After looking at that definition, I don’t think I was even at the pretense level with my church activities. I never said I believed in God, or Jesus, or the Bible, or goodness, or rightness, or anything.  I did many right things because that was the pattern established in my life and there were just some things you did and some things you didn’t do because it was just the right thing (or, conversely, the wrong thing) to do. To be quite honest, I didn’t like church, or Sunday school, or MYF.  I didn’t like any of it. So as soon as it was my choice to not go, I didn’t.

I went the three different schools in three different towns in 3^rd grade and another new school and town by 6^th grade. I have never made friends easily and I was never the “best” friend of anyone I knew.  So I ended up tagging along with whatever group would have me.   By the end of 5^th grade I had been exposed to pornography and had occasionally smoked.  (There was a Catholic family that lived near us in Algona, IA whose kids went to the Catholic School.  They would steal their parents’ cigarettes and put them in church offering envelopes box.  We would go down to the creek, catch frogs, and smoke.)  I also remember riding my bike all over town and never being home.  Which led to petty shoplifting, throwing rocks at cars (and cats), going into abandoned houses and doing damage, all stuff I thought was typical.  I didn’t feel guilty.  I knew it was “wrong” in a sense, but that really never touched me.  I knew my dad would be mad if he found out (and he often did because I was good at causing trouble) but if he never found out, I never felt bad about it.

Into Junior High I was done.  I saw no purpose in church of church activities.  I occasionally went because there were some girls I liked, but the content was at first irrelevant, then irritating, then hostile.   I became agnostic.  Whether god existed or not was irrelevant.  There was no way to know anything about god.  I loved George Carlin because he had a lot of angst and anger directed toward religion.  He had this comedy bit about god being too big, too busy and too far away, “Forget about earth, man…I’m too busy throwing gas balls on the edge of the firmament.”

Once I affirmed the fact that I really didn’t believe in anything, I threw off restraint.  Even that twinge of regret for lying to my parents was gone.  In 8^th grade I started drinking beer.  That led me to a two year slide where I ended up sitting in jail, kicked out of school, and on the absolute bottom.

chris

My History with the Lord (The Methodist Years)

492

Ok.  I’m already bored with my “What Generation Am I?” direction.  I am going to come back to it, but I’m just not in the academic research mode right now.  This is supposed to be all about self-absorbed expression and I have (as usual) gotten into “teaching-mode.”  I have to remember, this is about me and my whining and not you and your insight.  So I am going to launch into…”My History with the Lord.”

I have excellent parents.  They are excellent people.  They sacrificed for us.  They focused on my brother and me at home.  My dad is the most selfless person I know.  He has always been focused on others, especially my mom, brother and me.  I had a strong moral base built at home that I witnessed and experienced.  I talked daily with my parents and I listened to how they commented on life, politics, the world, their friends and community, and church. That church was the Methodist church of central and northern Iowa.

My Dad was raised Lutheran like all good Danes and even considered going into the ministry as a Lutheran Minister. Instead he went into the Marines and then he went into retail.  My mom was a Methodist.  When Dad went to the Lutheran minister in Iowa Falls about marrying him and my mom, he was shocked (and hurt) to find out the Lutheran minister wouldn’t marry a Lutheran and a Methodist. (A fact that still makes my dad bristle to this day whens he mentions it.)  So we were Methodists.

Being in retail management in the 60’s meant we moved a lot, so we were members of many Methodist Churches (Indianola, Mt. Pleasant, Indianola again, Algona, and finally Knoxville) five moves from 1^st to 6^th grades for me.

We went to church, Sunday school, Vacation Bible School, a couple weeks of camp, a couple of lock-in’s, some MYF (Methodist Youth Fellowship), choir with Christmas and Easter Cantatas each year, pancake breakfasts, paper drives, general community activities.

I know I wasn’t paying much attention (I didn’t pay attention to much of anything) but I really don’t remember hearing much about Jesus during all those times.  Somehow I got the Idea that belief in Jesus was optional, or extra, or for the radical Jesus-People (remember-born in the 60’s.)  I guess I believed there was a god somewhere.  I knew there was Jesus, but perhaps he was a legend or an amalgamation of many other teachers. But for me he was a side character and I had no regard for him.  (The “de-emphasis” of Jesus was so rooted in me that it took years, even after I was saved, to recognize the place Jesus holds in all of existence and in my own heart.)

In 6^th grade I went through “Confirmation” class where I learned that my “sprinkling” as an infant forgave the “original sin” I was born with, that my parents (and congregation) made a promise that I would be raised in the church, and that I was now “confirming” that decision my parents made on my behalf.  At the end of that class we were all presented to the congregations and considered official “members” of the Methodist Church.  On that Sunday we were asked to write our names on a card and the Minister (Reverend Deaver) would come down the line, put his hand on our heads, read our names and the declare us “in.” So I wrote my name on the card, CHRISTOPHER LYNN ROBIN GEIL. (Only after the ceremony did I find out my middle name was not actually “Robin.” Thanks Mom.) Rev. Deaver came down the line reading the names perfectly…until he got to me.  In his booming, Reverendy voice he declared me, “Chritopher (pause) Lynn (pause) Robin (uncomfortably-long-pause) Gail (not-so-muffled-snickeres.)”  To this day Kevin Long refers to me as “Gail.”  So I was “In”, “Confirmed”, “Memberized”, and completely lost with the worst yet to come.

chris

Whimping-Out

493

Ok. I went to Joplin this morning for Wesley's 1st football game with the Kansas City Lions.  He got 7 tackles. Stopped a runner on 4th and inches twice at the goal line. Kicked an onside kick that his team recovered. And got a blister on his pinky toe. They won the game 26 to 10.  An all-round successful outing.  We drove through "Tornado Alley" and saw what the storm left.  I was in the 97 degree sun for about 4 hours and I drove a lot.

So the seven of you who read this blog will have to wait for tomorrow as I break down "Generation X" with all of it's quirks and foibles (I just need some more research...and I ain"t doin' it tonight.)

I will tell you that my right leg no longer will straighten out so I'm on crutches.  Went to the Dr. Friday and will go to the Orthopedic Dr. Monday.

I will give you, however, an all 1963 cast of "Gilligan's Island"

Gilligan: Rob Schneider (SNL)
Skipper: Larry the Cable Guy (Comedian)
Professor: Fischer Stevens (Short Circuit)
Ginger: Elle MacPherson (Model)
Mary Ann: Lauren Holly (Dumb and Dumber)
Thurston Howell III: Mike Myers (Wayne's World)
Lovey: Lisa Whelchel (Facts of Life)

chris

Am I A Boomer?

494

The Hebrew reckoning of a generation is 40 years. They use these 40-year periods to define the age of their nation, and to remember seminal events, like Passover, or the desert wandering, the rebuilding of the temple, or the coming of the Messiah.  Each generation was remembered for something. I could be something great, like the return from captivity, or it could be remembered as the generation that wasn't memorable.

I'm not sure what "generation" I'm a part of.  So I'm going to look at three "generations" as defined by popular social science.  They are: "The Baby Boomers", "Generation X", and the lesser recognized, "Generation Jones."

Today: The Baby Boomers!

Technically (or more shall I say, numerically) I'm a Boomer.

A baby boomer would be any person in America who's age falls between 47-65 years of age. They could be your parents, grand parents, even you. Presidents Bill Clinton and George W. Bush were the first two Boomer Presidents (both being born in 1946.)  Even Barak Obama could be considered a Boomer (if we could only see his birth certificate and know exactly when he was born...or where, but I digress) Theoretically, any person who was born between 1946 to 1964 is known as baby boomer (79 million people were born in the US during those years!) in the cultural context. Though not all the sociology scholars, institutes, and organizations agree to the aforementioned definition of baby boomer. Studying baby boomer generation is interesting due to the unique baby boomer characteristics they were endowed with.

Why the Boomer Generation is Different?

Scholars believe that this generation had the most distinguished characteristics for that era as they were born in the transition phase of America. After the World War II, America was one of the few countries that was least affected by the war. It had made a lot of money during the war and now was richer compared to other countries who had lost everything including manpower, wealth, and natural resources. This was the time for America to flourish, prosper, develop, and rule the world. And this is the time when the boomers were born, on the peak of affluence and privilege. The changes in society influenced the way baby boomers were brought up and looked at life. On the other hand, the society too was charmed by baby boomers as they were a huge demographic bulge that changed society as it moved on. Being born in such a prominent and decisive era, baby boomer characteristics are unequaled in themselves.

• They are motivated by high positions of prestige and an extra benefit that comes along.
• They work hard to achieve the career goals in life.
• They define self worth by their work and professional accomplishments.
• They often think that the 'gen-next' lack work ethics and commitment to the work place.
• They are self reliant, independent and confident.
• They have a strong belief in individualism.
• They are dedicated, passionate, and resourceful.
• They have a rebellious streak and are not afraid of challenging the prevalent practices.
• They are open to change and adapt new things.
• They often switch careers and are inclined towards starting a business.
• They avoid too much long term planning.
• Though they are idealistic, they are competitive and goal oriented.
• They keep a positive attitude in life and change with time.
• They listened to rock and roll, which was the expression of their generational identity.
• They welcome challenges in life and strive to make a difference.
• They adapt well to new technology.
• They are pragmatic and are concerned with health and environment issues.
• They enjoy their free time and vacations to the fullest.

Another important baby boomer characteristic is that they think themselves as a special generation, so much so that they created their own life style by bringing new changes in the society. They were the first people who defined the world in terms of generations. Another reason for this generational distinctiveness were modern marketers who targeted baby boomers even before they were born.

And they had television.

My Grandpa Huck was too young for World War I and too old for World War II My dad was too young for the Korean War and he was an Honorably Discharged Marine by 1960. NO VIETNAM.  So I wasn't necessarily the outcome of a man, changed by the brutality of war who had come home to start a family.  I was born at the most stable, affluent time in American History...

Am I a Boomer?


chris

I was born in 1963.

495

I was born May 8th, 1963.

As all good American males of my generation would do, I'm going to engage in a universal activity of retrospection that is compulsive, and beyond my ability to deny...that is...compare myself to others also born in 1963.

Eric Cantor is the House of Representatives Majority Leader.  He is the only Jewish Republican serving in the House.  He was born in 1963.  I served on the leadership team of the Middle School I worked at for 5 years.  I proposed we spend more than the 20 minutes of "team time" working on test taking skills...my proposal was defeated. (Ignored, actually) I was born in 1963.

Joel Olsteen is an American author, televangelist, and the senior pastor of Lakewood Church in Houston, Texas. His ministry reaches over seven million broadcast media viewers weekly in over 100 nations around the world. He is skinny and has tremendous teeth. He was born in 1963.  I had a bible study in my living room that catered to ex-cons, church rejects, and people that felt sorry for me...about 20 of us in all (considering I had 6 in my family and another family had 9.)  I was born in 1963.

Michael Jordan was the greatest basketball player of all time.  Six NBA titles.  Multiple league MVP awards. Pro Basketball  Hall of Fame member.  Most successful and prolific marketer and endorser of the 80's and 90's. Single-handedly propelled Nike to the #1 sports apparel and shoe company in the world with the "Air Jordan." He was born in 1963.  I once had to break up an argument between two crazy guys who were debating the topic of, "Who's better; Michael Jordan or Wal Mart."  Their argument went something like this, Crazy Guy #1, "Wal Mart is a big-ole store." Crazy Guy # 2, "Oh Yeah, well Michael Jordan can dunk." Crazy Guy #1, " You can buy CDs at Wal-Mart." Crazy Guy #2, " Michael Jordan has Scottie Pippin."  Then I had to separate them. (I wish I was making this up, but I'm not.) I was born in 1963.

This is counter productive...

Lisa Nowak was an astronaut on the space shuttle (she operated the robotic arm.) She also wore an adult diaper so she wouldn't have to use the restroom as she drove nonstop from Texas to Florida to kidnap her astronaut/ex-boyfriend's new astronaut/girlfriend.  She's in prison now.  She was born in 1963.  I worked in a prison and changed my son's diapers. I was born in 1963.

Brad Pitt
Johny Depp
Benjamin Bratt
Dermot Mulroney
Harold Perrineau Jr.
All 1963...

Conan O'Brien
Larry the Cable Guy
'63

George Michael was a really manly-looking guy who was super-gay.
Brett Michaels was a super-gay looking guy who was really manly.
(Both, you guessed it-'63)

How about an all 1963 band?
Drums: Lars Ulrich (Metallica)
Guitar: Scott Ian (Anthrax)
Bass: Jeff Ament (Pearl Jam)
Vocals: Jimmy Osmond (The Osmond Brothers)

How about an all '63 debate between Allison Keyes from All Things Considered on NPR and Kevin James from Fox Radio. (OK, that one was obscure.)

Daniel Pearl was the kidnapped journalist who Al-Qaeda beheaded live on the internet.  He was born in 1963.

Terri Schiavo was bulimic. She slipped into a coma after suffering a heart attack in 1990.  Her husband won a court case in 2005 to have her starved to death.  She died.  She was born in 1963.

(Why do you always go so dark Mr. Geil...)

(Your fun-facts are not so fun.)

Sir-Mix-Alot was born in 1963.  He wrote that "Big Butts" song?

(That's what we're talking about!)

On being fat...(the absolute final word on fatness)

496

Yes, being fat is the culmination of a series of choices and factors. And yes, I need to focus on the reasons for my weight and not necessarily the weight itself.  But again, theory and reality have away of avoiding each other.

"Look on the inside of people, where the real beauty is..." Thank You, Hallmark.  "Don't judge a book by it's cover..." Thank You, 2nd grade.  Do you know why books have covers? To sell the story inside the book.  For me it has always been much like the swirling of the toilet bowl.  I feel bad, I eat, I get fatter, I see myself, I get depressed, I feel bad, I eat, I get fatter, rinse, repeat.

This is an old pattern rooted in some of those enduring issues from my childhood.  There are competing views within me.  At times the healthy-me supercedes the unhealthy-me.  At other times I retreat to the familiar, but destructive place..(this blog has all gotten a bit to serious and is now a total downer.)

So I am on a quest to find a Doctor to give me the full medical work-up to establish my baseline.  Then I can be manly and start setting goals and making charts and getting my facts and figures in a line and take control! (sic)

My first Doctor of choice (Mister Doctor Troy Burns) does not take my insurance, so the search will continue.

chris

On being fat...(part 2)

497

According to the National Institute of Health, Obesity in the United States is the #1 cause or contributing factor to most of the negative health related conditions in people of all ages.  Blah, blah, blah....

Statistics never changed anyone.  Warning labels never changed anyone. It's a little bit like the old-school substance abuse deterrent program they used with kids...D.A.R.E. It stood for...some thing with the word "Resist" in it....anyway, they found that for all the millions of dollars they spent on the program throughout the U.S., all it did was make white teenage boys who weren't going to do drugs anyway feel a little better about not doing drugs.

Obesity statistics just make me want to go eat a cheeseburger.

But here is something that is trying to motivate me: I feel terrible, and there are a lot of weight-related physical symptoms that are piling up and making me (and other people) miserable.

I snore like a freight train.  Of course I don't know this because I'm so tired from snoring all night the night before that I fall dead asleep the next night.  My poor wife has to find other places to go or ear-plugs, or fans, anything to drown out the rattling.  I snored before I  lost the weight in 05-06.  Once I lost 50 lbs, the snoring stopped.

I have silent reflux.  (That's acid-reflux that doesn't wake me up. Why doesn't it wake me up?  See the above paragraph.)  From 2000 to 2006 I led 5 to 7 extended worship sets a week.  At times I was teaching 10 hours a week and counseling.  At my fattest during that time, I lost my voice, literally.  I couldn't make it through 1 song and I was blown.  I went to a an ENT who specialized in vocalists.  He said my vocal cords were fried from the reflux and that he couldn't guarantee I would get my singing voice back.  This was a major motivator for me to lose the weight.  I took prilosec at night, laid off the coffee, drank a lot of water,and rested my voice. After a number of weeks I returned to the specialist.  He said it was one of the most complete turn-arounds he'd seen.  He didn't see any residual damage.  I know I'm in the same boat again.  I "music directed" a high school theater camp this summer.  During some of the rehearsals we put the actors on vocal rest, so I had to sing.  It was (as Charles Barkley would say) terrrrrr-a-bl.  I had nothing.

My back and legs hurt.  Now, I already have arthritis, and some kind of hip-pointer thing, and my feet fall asleep, and my poor body is screaming, 'Enough already with the fatness!"

My Dad has prostate cancer and is starting treatment.  He has a great prognosis, but I could tell it shook him up.  My folks came down to see us recently, I think one of the motivators was he wanted to talk to me about my health.  As I think about it now... my mom has had cancer, my dad has cancer, my aunt died of cancer, Grandpa Pete died of emphysema when I was in 7th grade, Grandpa  Huck died of heart disease when I was in 6th grade...hmmmmmmm.

(On being fat...part 3 on 496)

On being fat...(part 1)

Day 498

I was naturally skinny from the ages of 14 to 24.  Ten years of easy skinniness.  The other 38 years have been a difficult pendulum swinging from losing weight, gaining weight, trying to keep weight off, trying to take weight off, but mostly just being fat.  And not Jolly-fat like Santa, or All-Star-wrestler fat like "The Big Show."  Just that big-gut-fat-face kind of fat.  The least attractive kind in my opinion.

I grew from 5'6" to 6'4" in less than a year between 7th and 8th grades.  I went from the slowest kid in my class to one of the fastest.  I remember in 6th grade getting lapped by Christy McClatchy in the 600 yard run for the President's Physical Fitness test (thanks Nixy).  In 8th grade I broke the school record.  I held that record for like 5 minutes until the person in the heat behind me ended up breaking the one I had just set.

I should really apologize to Amy for false advertising.  We met when I had my best look. Little did she know...( I like it when people who haven't seen us in a long time finally do see together.  They tend to say, "Amy! You haven't changed a bit!....Hey Chris, how's it going?")

I lost weight for my 30th birthday.  My goal was to weigh 200 lbs and dunk the basketball.  I ended up weighing 204 lbs and dunking a women's-sized basketball.  We had a foster daughter at the time who began to run away.  She eventually ran away and was gone for a couple of weeks.  I remember getting a call from the police to come see if this girl they had arrested was Becky.  So I drove to the apartment complex where they had found her.  There she was, handcuffed and sitting in the back of the squad car.  She looked, "unkept" and her mascara was running (she liked to wear a lot of eye makeup.)  Se looked up at me through the window, but there was no pleading for mercy in her eyes.  She had had a hard life and she was greatly skilled in shutting her heart off.  Me too.  I told the officer, "That's her." I got in my car and drove home, back to my wife and infant son, Eric. When we were on vacation in Iowa that summer, Becky and one of her friends broke into our house and attempted to steal one of our cars.  Luckily the battery was dead and they only rolled the car down the hill into some trees. No one was hurt. I think I weighed 240 lbs by the end of that year.

I lost weight again  in 1998.  I was fasting and praying every day.  I was seeking the lord, pursuing Him hard, and He was meeting me early in the morning at the church building.  I was praying for the start of our school year.  Then, on the morning of the day of the first teacher's meeting, Julie, a student I had a history with, died of renal failure in the dorm.  She had been at home for the entire two-weeks previous and had been to dialysis every day.  Yet the sack around her heart filled with fluid overnight and she died on the bathroom floor in the dorm....I broke my fast with a double whopper and an extra large fry that day.

I had knee surgery in the Fall 2005.  I was then up to 285 lbs.  I had to go to the gym to work out my knee.  So I went, and got on the treadmill.  I tried to go for one mile at 2.5 miles per hour.  I went for 15 minutes.  Eventually I increased to 3, then 4, then 5 then 6 miles per hour.  At the YMCA in Newton you could only sign-up for 30 minute sessions on the treadmill, so I tried to run over 3 miles per session.  I lifted weights every other day.  I rode my bike around town.  And I lost weight, down to 235 lbs. I felt good.  Then, the boom was lowered....

Part 2 on day 497

"Lines"

Day 499

“Lines”

 “Deadline” is an ominous term.  There is a line. If that line is not crossed by a designated time, death will occur.  My current job is propelled, primarily, by deadlines. Certain meetings must happen by particular times and assorted papers must have various signatures according to designated timetables and such.  Therefore I do a lot of backwards counting.  This meeting must be held on the 21^st and I must give 10-days-notice and two opportunities for them to attend so I count backwards from the 21^st 10, 10, and 3.  I set a reminder in my Outlook calendar to have the invitation letter mailed on the 29^th. (Yes, I do have a rich and stimulating relationship with Outlook.)  This all tends to make my motivation for action a bit “reactionary.” The “deadline” dictates how, when and where my energy is spent.  And there is no reward or extra bonus points or any attaboys whatsoever for being early-only death if you’re late.

My current job is also propelled by “baselines.” I work in special education.  We develop “Individual Education Plans” for students with a variety of disabilities. We target educational areas that need particular work and identify strategies to move the student along.  But the very first thing we do is “establish a baseline.”  We find out what the student can do right now and plan accordingly.  For instance, if an 8^th grade student should be in Pre-Algebra and is working on “order of operations” in class, but doesn’t know any of his multiplication or division facts,  there is no way that student will be successful in that class.  The General Education teacher may just think the student isn’t “getting it” when in-fact, the student isn’t even on the launching pad to “get-it.”  We evaluate the student. Discover he has a deficit in Math Calculations.  Find out where he’s at with his multiplication facts and give him specialized and often small-group instruction in that area.

I have set my ‘deadline” as January 1^st 2013 for whatever it is I want (which I’m not sure exactly what that is yet) and I’ve counted backwards 500 days the get whatever it is I want to happen…to happen.

My next step will be to “establish my baseline.” I need to find out where I’m at.  Some of it will be easy; weight, heart rate, blood pressure, cholesterol level, sugar levels.  But I’m wanting a deeper analysis.  Where am I in my heart?  Where is my soul, my emotions, a lot of that stuff I (as most typical men do) tend to ignore and avoid.

So yes, I’m getting a comprehensive physical and going on a diet. And yes, I’m going to be working out regularly.  These are the simple things.  It is the more complicated things I have some trepidation about.

chris

My version of the mid-life crisis...

T-500 and counting...

Some dudes buy a Harley. Others get hair plugs, plastic surgery, and a destructive relationship. Some drink. Still others get wild, or withdrawn, or depressed, or manic, or all of the above.

I count.

I know that is not a very entertaining way to have a mid-life crisis...but that's what I do.  I count things, organize things, try to control things through order. So on May 8th of this year, my 48th birthday, I was on my igoogle page and saw the "countdown" application. You choose a date and time in the future, plug it in, and a "Dick-Clark's-Rockin'-New-Year's-Eve-type" digital display starts counting the seconds, minutes, hours, and days until that event.  It made me think of my big 5-0.  So I plugged in 12:00 AM, January 1, 2013, the 1st day of my 50th year and started watching it tick down. Tick. Tick. Tick.

I don't remember my 10th or 20th birthdays.  I had an awesome 30th birthday (an excellent day.) I don't really remember my 40th birthday (although that time of my life was extraordinarily hectic.) So as I looked forward to my 50th, I wanted to make sure it was, well, memorable.

I also didn't want to target only a specific day, but an entire year. And, not just, "Ok, it's January 1st. Guess I better do something about something." I want to be "ready" for my 50th year.

So I looked at 500 days before that 50th year to "get ready."  Part of that is writing in my journal. But I've only ever used it (a fine Moleskin I bought in Houston) sporadically.  So, blogging it is.  My goal is a minimum of 500 entries before 2013.

So here I am, at Panera, drinking a Chai Tea (another goal), feeling a little like a self-absorbed idiot.

And now 1 of 500 is done.

chris