My good friend Sterling Baer sent this to me and I thought it was a great insight about the subject of death by someone going through the process.
Friends and Family, it seems this note may be making the rounds amongst emailers recently, and I am glad that I received it because is worth reading, keeping and sharing it with others and that is why I am sending it to you. I checked it's validity out for myself, it is bonifide and was actually published in "Christianity Today" in July of 2007. It is an outstanding essay which was written by Tony Snow, the former Presidential Press Secretary who recently died. It was posted on their website on 7/20/07 with this preface. http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2007/july/25.30.htmlCommentator and broadcaster Tony Snow announced that he had colon cancer in 2005. Following surgery and chemo-therapy, Snow joined the Bush administration in April 2006 as press secretary. Unfortunately, on March 23 Snow, 51, a husband and father of three, announced that the cancer had recurred, with tumors found in his abdomen—leading to surgery in April, followed by more chemotherapy. Snow went back to work in the White House Briefing Room on May 30, but resigned August 31 (2007). Snow was asked "what spiritual lessons he had been learning through the ordeal and this was his uplifting and remarkable faith promoting reply. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
'Blessings arrive in unexpected packages -- in my case, cancer. Those of us with potentially fatal diseases -- and there are millions in America today -- find ourselves in the odd position of coping with our mortality while trying to fathom God's will. Although it would be the height of presumption to declare with confidence 'What It All Means,'Scripture provides powerful hints and consolations. The first is that we shouldn't spend too much time trying to answer the 'why' questions: Why me? Why must people suffer?Why can't someone else get sick? We can't answer such things, and the questions themselves often are designed more to express our anguish than to solicit an answer.I don't know why I have cancer, and I don't much care. It is what it is, a plain and indisputable fact. Yet even while staring into a mirror darkly, great and stunning truths began to take shape. Our maladies define a central feature of our existence: We are fallen. We are imperfect.Our bodies give out. But, despite this -- or because of it -- God offers the possibility of salvation and grace. We don't know how the narrative of our lives will end, but we get to choose how to use the interval between now and the moment we meet our Creator face-to-face.Second, we need to get past the anxiety. The mere thought of dying can send adrenaline flooding through your system. A dizzy, unfocused panic seizes you. Your heart thumps; your head swims. You think of nothingness and swoon. You fear partings; you worry about the impact on family and friends. You fidget and get nowhere. To regain footing, remember that we were born not into death, but into life - and that the journey continues after we have finished our days on this earth. We accept this on faith, but that faith is nourished by a conviction that stirs even within many non-believing hearts - an institution that the gift of life, once given, cannot be taken away. Those who have been stricken enjoy the special privilege of being able to fight with their might, main, and faith to live fully, richly, exuberantly - no matter how their days may be numbered.Third, we can open our eyes and hearts. God relishes surprise. We want lives of simple, predictable ease -- smooth, even trails as far as the eye can see -- but God likes to go off-road. He provokes us with twists and turns. He places us in predicaments that seem to defy our endurance and comprehension -- and yet don't. By His love and grace, we persevere. The challenges that make our hearts leap and stomachs churn invariably strengthen our faith and grant measures of wisdom and joy we would not experience otherwise.'You Have Been Called'. Picture yourself in a hospital bed. The fog of anesthesia has begun to wear away. A doctor stands at your feet; a loved one holds your hand at the side. 'It's cancer,' the healer announces.The natural reaction is to turn to God and ask him to serve as a cosmic Santa. 'Dear God, make it all go away. Make everything simpler.' But another voice whispers: 'You have been called.' Your quandary has drawn you closer to God, closer to those you love, closer to the issues that matter -- and has dragged into insignificance the banal concerns that occupy our 'normal time.'There's another kind of response, although usually short-lived, an inexplicable shudder of excitement as if a clarifying moment of calamity has swept away everything trivial and tiny, and placed before us the challenge of important questions.The moment you enter the Valley of the Shadow of Death, things change. You discover that Christianity is not something doughy, passive, pious, and soft. Faith may be the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.But it also draws you into a world shorn of fearful caution. The life of belief teems with thrills, boldness, danger, shocks, reversals, triumphs, and epiphanies.Think of Paul, traipsing through the known world and contemplating trips to what must have seemed the antipodes (Spain), shaking the dust from his sandals, worrying not about the morrow, but only about the moment.There's nothing wilder than a life of humble virtue -- for it is through selflessness and service that God wrings from our bodies and spirits the most we ever could give, the most we ever could offer, and the most we ever could do.Finally, we can let love change everything. When Jesus was faced with the prospect of crucifixion, he grieved not for himself, but for us. He cried for Jerusalem before entering the Holy City.From the Cross, he took on the cumulative burden of human sin and weakness, and begged for forgiveness on our behalf.We get repeated chances to learn that life is not about us, that we acquired purpose and satisfaction by sharing in God's love for others.Sickness gets us part way there. It reminds us of our limitations and dependence.But it also gives us a chance to serve the healthy. A minister friend of mine observes that people suffering grave afflictions often acquire the faith of two people, while loved ones accept the burden of two peoples' worries and fears.'Learning How to Live'. Most of us have watched friends as they drifted toward God's arms, not with resignation, but with peace and hope. In so doing, they have taught us not how to die, but how to live.They have emulated Christ by transmitting the power and authority of live. I sat by my best friend's bedside a few years ago as a wasting cancer took him away.He kept at his table a worn Bible and a 1928 edition of the Book of Common Prayer. A shattering grief disabled his family, many of his old friends, and at least one priest.Here was an humble and very good guy, someone who apologized when he winced with pain because he thought it made his guest uncomfortable. He restrained his equanimity and good humor literally until his last conscious moment.'I'm going to try to beat [this cancer],' he told me several months before he died. 'But if I don't, I'll see you on the other side.'His gift was to remind everyone around him that even though God doesn't promise us tomorrow, he does promise us eternity -- filled with life and love we cannot comprehend -- and that one can, in the throes of sickness, point the rest of us toward timeless truths that will help us weather future storms.Through such trials, God bids us to choose: Do we believe, or do we not? Will we be bold enough to love, daring enough to serve, humble enough to submit, and strong enough to acknowledge our limitations? Can we surrender our concern in things that don't matter so that we might devote our remaining days to things that do?When our faith flags, He throws reminders in our way. Think of the prayer warriors in our midst. They change things, and those of us who have been on the receiving end of their petitions and intercessions know it. It is hard to describe, but there are times when suddenly the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you feel a surge of the Spirit. Somehow you just know: Others have chosen, when talking to the Author of all creation, to lift us up -- to speak of us!This is love of a very special order. But so is the ability to sit back and appreciate the wonder of every created thing.The mere thought of death somehow makes every blessing vivid, every happiness more luminous and intense. We may not know how our contest with sickness will end, but we have felt the ineluctable touch of God.What is man that Thou are mindful of him? We don't know much, but we know this: No matter where we are, no matter what we do, no matter how bleak or frightening our prospects, each and every one of us who believe each and every day, lies in the same safe and impregnable place, in the hollow of God's hand.'Tony Snow
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Sunday, July 6, 2008
LOTOJA 2007 story
While I'm here I thought I'd toss up my story about the 2007 LOTOJA race. LOTOJA is a 206 miler from Logan Utah to Jackson Hole Wyoming. I love LOTOJA and plan on doing it yearly "till death do us part". Rick Frost and I were the only ones I knew of from Arizona to do the race last year. I did the race solo(no sag) and if it weren't for Rick and his family, I wouldn't have been able to pull it off, they were awesome.
I wanted to go easier than I did that day because I had the HooDoo 500 the very next weekend but got caught up in the racing and didn't preserve myself until later in the race. I was able to finish HooDoo but I believe LOTOJA may have been detrimental to my health.
I can't stop thinking about doing HooDoo again this year but it's the same time line as last year with the races running back-to-back so we'll see. Anyways, here's the brief write-up, take care.
LOTOJA 2007:
Let me start by correcting my result, I finished in 10:57. Not a huge correction from your e-mail, but it's nice to tell people with tongue-in-cheek that Rick and I finished " around 10 hours".
I wasn't going to do this race, the logistics were too stressful with only Rick Frost and myself being entered, and me doing it solo (without a support vehicle). My main problem ( knowing I was going alone and without a sag) was how to get back from Jackson Hole after the finish. I had resigned myself to just finishing and looking for a ride at the finish, or even hitchhiking as Kyle did at Ragbrai this year. Rick came through huge though by asking Jill's father to drive up to Jackson in my car, and he was kind enough to do that for me. I gotta say here that the Frost's were absolutely incredible to help me race, they even drove my bike up and were pretty much my only cheering section.
Weather was perfect at the start, arm warmers maybe. Typical staggered start with the faster groups heading out first, 33 packs in all, around 50 in each pack. I started with the 7th pack and we were flying. We went by the group that started 2nd about 10 miles from Preston. Of course Preston is where it all gets scambled, and it's every rider for themselves. The first big climb at Strawberry Pass is where I started thinking about preserving myself for next week and let some groups go. Overall, I really just wanted to try out the Perpetuem (endurance drink with protein), and not get too pooped for my little race next week.
So, I went easy up the first climb, went down the other side very fast, then got stupid. I came upon three very fast riders, we worked well together and tore it up. We passed most the riders from my original group. We kept pushing until I came to my senses and realized I was just jeopardizing my event next week. At this point I was a bit fried and remorseful about it. One thing that slowed me down was not having a crew to give me stuff. I stopped at the three neutral feed zones to mix the Perpetuem, this took about 5 minutes and I got frustrated watching the sagged riders go by.
I was feeling sick at this point because I believe I had mixed the Perpetuem too thick, and for sure went too hard. I crawled up Snake River Pass ( the steepest part of the race) and rode by myself to Afton. A group caught me after Afton and I was feeling a little better. It was around this time fellow Brumbus Rick pulls up seeking shelter from the head wind. It did get pretty windy along Star Valley, and a paceline was the place to be. We were in the same disorganized pack for awhile but we were slowing him down. He pulled a small group away and off into the sunset. Rick just missed his goal of finishing under ten hours, I think he would have done it, but out of devotion, he waited for his group too much. I heard many a "thank you" after the race from riders in his group thanking him for his long pulls at the front. When I got to Alpine I was feeling sick again not wanting to eat, along with nausea. So, I slowed down to a snail's pace again until the last aid station where I met up with a group that I could stay with and cruised to the finish.
After the race I said my goodbyes to the Frosts and headed down to American Fork where I stayed the rest of the night at a friend's house. Yikes, that was painful in itself.
I'm glad I was able to go up this year and grateful for Rick's family making it possible. One of these years I'll put it together and do better. But, if that never happens, I'll still have fun and enjoy this beautiful race.
Must cry now, Jim
I wanted to go easier than I did that day because I had the HooDoo 500 the very next weekend but got caught up in the racing and didn't preserve myself until later in the race. I was able to finish HooDoo but I believe LOTOJA may have been detrimental to my health.
I can't stop thinking about doing HooDoo again this year but it's the same time line as last year with the races running back-to-back so we'll see. Anyways, here's the brief write-up, take care.
LOTOJA 2007:
Let me start by correcting my result, I finished in 10:57. Not a huge correction from your e-mail, but it's nice to tell people with tongue-in-cheek that Rick and I finished " around 10 hours".
I wasn't going to do this race, the logistics were too stressful with only Rick Frost and myself being entered, and me doing it solo (without a support vehicle). My main problem ( knowing I was going alone and without a sag) was how to get back from Jackson Hole after the finish. I had resigned myself to just finishing and looking for a ride at the finish, or even hitchhiking as Kyle did at Ragbrai this year. Rick came through huge though by asking Jill's father to drive up to Jackson in my car, and he was kind enough to do that for me. I gotta say here that the Frost's were absolutely incredible to help me race, they even drove my bike up and were pretty much my only cheering section.
Weather was perfect at the start, arm warmers maybe. Typical staggered start with the faster groups heading out first, 33 packs in all, around 50 in each pack. I started with the 7th pack and we were flying. We went by the group that started 2nd about 10 miles from Preston. Of course Preston is where it all gets scambled, and it's every rider for themselves. The first big climb at Strawberry Pass is where I started thinking about preserving myself for next week and let some groups go. Overall, I really just wanted to try out the Perpetuem (endurance drink with protein), and not get too pooped for my little race next week.
So, I went easy up the first climb, went down the other side very fast, then got stupid. I came upon three very fast riders, we worked well together and tore it up. We passed most the riders from my original group. We kept pushing until I came to my senses and realized I was just jeopardizing my event next week. At this point I was a bit fried and remorseful about it. One thing that slowed me down was not having a crew to give me stuff. I stopped at the three neutral feed zones to mix the Perpetuem, this took about 5 minutes and I got frustrated watching the sagged riders go by.
I was feeling sick at this point because I believe I had mixed the Perpetuem too thick, and for sure went too hard. I crawled up Snake River Pass ( the steepest part of the race) and rode by myself to Afton. A group caught me after Afton and I was feeling a little better. It was around this time fellow Brumbus Rick pulls up seeking shelter from the head wind. It did get pretty windy along Star Valley, and a paceline was the place to be. We were in the same disorganized pack for awhile but we were slowing him down. He pulled a small group away and off into the sunset. Rick just missed his goal of finishing under ten hours, I think he would have done it, but out of devotion, he waited for his group too much. I heard many a "thank you" after the race from riders in his group thanking him for his long pulls at the front. When I got to Alpine I was feeling sick again not wanting to eat, along with nausea. So, I slowed down to a snail's pace again until the last aid station where I met up with a group that I could stay with and cruised to the finish.
After the race I said my goodbyes to the Frosts and headed down to American Fork where I stayed the rest of the night at a friend's house. Yikes, that was painful in itself.
I'm glad I was able to go up this year and grateful for Rick's family making it possible. One of these years I'll put it together and do better. But, if that never happens, I'll still have fun and enjoy this beautiful race.
Must cry now, Jim
Saturday was good to me
Long time...Had a good ride Saturday. A group of us met at "the corner" at 0500. Let's see, I believe Dave Funk, Gary Raymond, Gary Prahl, Rick Green, Barry Weisman and a few other riders whom I'm embarrassed to say I didn't try to get to know. The unknowns fell off early so the opportunity to chat never presented itself later.
It's funny how I fought to get going that morning, I just didn't feel like getting out. Finally got the socks on, once I can get an article of clothing on i'm good to go. Pulled up half-heartedly with the intent of going a different direction, a shorter distance, and a shorter amount of time. I had my tunes and felt my body was telling me I needed to go easy, boy my body was deceptive that day.
We started riding and I made a quick and firm commitment to go around with the fellas. I would make the best of it, I hadn't been pack riding much lately, especially as fast as these guys go, but I would try and hang on.
We decided on a clockwise Beeline loop. Felt good until about half way up Beeline then Rick Green fell off. I stayed on for about another half mile then decided if I didn't want to blow up completely, I'd better back off and Rick was my excuse, I would just work with him. Barry was off not much longer after myself so the three of us rotated up to the turnoff. Rick and I took off a bit before the others and stayed ahead of the rest until just before the river. We all turned left up Usery. Gary Raymond was struggling a bit and was low on water ( he drank 4 bottles to my 2 by the time we got to the gas station) and needed to replenish. Rick, Barry and another rider went straight on McDowell, The two Garys, Dave and I turn right on Hawes and made our way back for water on Power and McDowel. Afterwards we took off for a front-side Usery loop. Dave and Gary Prahl were the horses this day and did the majority of the pulling.
What started as a weak attempt to ride turned into one of the best rides I had been on in quite a while. I got worked hard and felt good to be able to stay with the pack. It was the hottest day I've ridden in this year, and all of us were sweating profusely. I had a good time and I think we all got what we wanted that day so I was happy I overcame the natural man that morning.
I did see Todd and Amy Kerr while heading up to Usery, they had a flat and my instincts begged me to stop and help but Todd said they were fine so I stayed on the back on the train and continued to get pulled along.
So, good day with good people.
It's funny how I fought to get going that morning, I just didn't feel like getting out. Finally got the socks on, once I can get an article of clothing on i'm good to go. Pulled up half-heartedly with the intent of going a different direction, a shorter distance, and a shorter amount of time. I had my tunes and felt my body was telling me I needed to go easy, boy my body was deceptive that day.
We started riding and I made a quick and firm commitment to go around with the fellas. I would make the best of it, I hadn't been pack riding much lately, especially as fast as these guys go, but I would try and hang on.
We decided on a clockwise Beeline loop. Felt good until about half way up Beeline then Rick Green fell off. I stayed on for about another half mile then decided if I didn't want to blow up completely, I'd better back off and Rick was my excuse, I would just work with him. Barry was off not much longer after myself so the three of us rotated up to the turnoff. Rick and I took off a bit before the others and stayed ahead of the rest until just before the river. We all turned left up Usery. Gary Raymond was struggling a bit and was low on water ( he drank 4 bottles to my 2 by the time we got to the gas station) and needed to replenish. Rick, Barry and another rider went straight on McDowell, The two Garys, Dave and I turn right on Hawes and made our way back for water on Power and McDowel. Afterwards we took off for a front-side Usery loop. Dave and Gary Prahl were the horses this day and did the majority of the pulling.
What started as a weak attempt to ride turned into one of the best rides I had been on in quite a while. I got worked hard and felt good to be able to stay with the pack. It was the hottest day I've ridden in this year, and all of us were sweating profusely. I had a good time and I think we all got what we wanted that day so I was happy I overcame the natural man that morning.
I did see Todd and Amy Kerr while heading up to Usery, they had a flat and my instincts begged me to stop and help but Todd said they were fine so I stayed on the back on the train and continued to get pulled along.
So, good day with good people.
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