That Elusive Eleventh Mile

Several months ago, my friend and I were having a conversation about the movie Bucket List, which is about the things you want to do "before you kick the bucket."

"What's on your list," I asked.

"I'd like to run a half marathon."

"I'll do it with you," I said, without thinking about how much this proposition would cost.

This weekend, I ran in the Music City Half Marathon, where thirty thousand slightly insane people donned shorts and ran (or attempted to run) either 13.1 or 26.2 miles. The reason why so many people had trouble running is because -- suddenly -- the weather turned hot hot hot. Whereas last year's marathon was cold and threatening to rain, this year's was 85 degrees, not a cloud in sight. After training during the cold winter months, dressed in fleece, yesterday was quite a shock to my system.

But what a spectacle! People running in costumes, people lined up all along the route to yell and encourage their friends, neighbors spraying a water hose so you could run through a mist and cool down. The signs were what got me. "Run Like You Stole It," and "Marathons: Not as Easy as Your Girlfriend."

I kept looking forward to mile 11 and asked my "Bucket List friend Jana" not to tell me how far we'd gone until 11. After that, it seemed like 13 was no big deal. Mind you, I've never run 13 miles before in my life, but these are the things you think minute after minute in an effort to keep going.

Eleven.

Eleven.

All along the route, people rang cow bells (which you always need more of) and yelled out encouragements. "This is the hardest hill! You'll have a flat stretch after this!" or "Way to go! You've done 8 miles!"

Then, I heard it. "You've done eleven miles! Only a little bit more!"

I was thrilled. I started running with a spring in my step and with more clarity. Then, I was looking forward to seeing the next glorious marker, 12, followed by 13, then followed by the nearest patch of grass in the shade I could find. But when it came up?

"11.0"

It totally deflated my bubble. It may not sound like a big deal, but I'd run a mile thinking I was almost finished, and it completely leveled me to realize I had to "re-run" that eleventh mile.

It got me thinking about the damaging effects of false hope. Last night, I was watching Molly, an American Girl movie about WW2 in which the main character's dad goes to war.

"Do you promise you'll be safe?"

"I promise," the dad reassures his daughter, a bold declaration especially considering the mortality rate of soldiers in that awful war.

Hope -- the endlessly bandied around word, especially in this political cycle -- has to be based on truth or it's not hope at all. It's merely "wishful thinking," which is quite different than the life-giving joy of true hope.

This is what I thought about as I ran my eleventh mile... again.

"WELL, I JUST PAID MY TAXES," DAVID JUST SAID...

...on his way home from work.

"Which, of course, makes me ineligible for the Obama Cabinet."

It wasn't a "petunia"

Today was the last day of Spring Break, so I gave the kids cameras and had them go around the house to get photos of objects which begin with each letter of the alphabet. I smiled as Austin ran away from Camille who was trying to snap a photo of him for the letter "A." This would definitely keep them occupied for a while -- even though we are some of the only people on the planet who have a xylophone laying around. If we hadn't had that, it would certainly be the best idea ever... they'd still be looking!

About an hour later, I was watching Austin recite the ABCs for the fiftieth time, and he said to himself, "I got it!" before running to the bathroom and closing the door.

"What are you doing?" I yelled after him.

"Taking a picture."

"What letter are you on?"

"P."

I went through about four or five awful possibilities of objects he could be photographing -- none of them good.

The moral of this story, folks, is to stick with Playstation 3 or the Wii and leave all those creative parenting ideas behind -- far, far behind...

EASTER IN A GLOBAL ECONOMIC MELTDOWN

He is risen, He is risen indeed!!

In times like these, it's quite comforting to know that the resurrected Savior is our true hope and security. May your families have a wonderful time of worship and celebration this weekend.

(I'm trying to psych myself up for tomorrow's sunrise service, after last night's amazing Good Friday service. I'll keep ya posted.)

FROM MY CORNER OF THE BIBLE BELT

What did it take to get me out of EFM retirement? Kathleen Parker’s article about an Iowa radio host named Deace, who apparently is representative of a new era of Christian activity in politics.

Apparently, a recent interview he conducted was so controversially hard hitting that the “corners of America's heartland and Bible Belt have been buzzing ever since.”

She writes:

“…in late March, Christian radio host Steve Deace of WHO Radio in Iowa aggressively interviewed Tom Minnery, head of the political arm of Focus on the Family. Minnery, whom Deace described as "the Karl Rove of the religious right," accused Deace during the interview of ambushing him when he had expected a chat about Dobson's legacy.”

Well, I’m writing from America’s heartland and I bet you couldn’t locate a person in the tri-state area who even knows who this Deace guy is. We may be buzzing about Danny Gokie and whether Adam Lambert will actually sing the phone book just to prove he can… but we aren’t talking about Deace.

Parker claims the host is upset because James Dobson supported Mitt Romney, then John McCain for President – two people who are insufficiently pro-life or pro-family.

However, Dobson never supported Mitt Romney for President. Check out our archives – every time James Dobson even sounded like he might be talking about the Governor, we paid attention.

“What was that? Dobson said vote for Mitt? Oh, sorry. Apparently, his coat just didn’t fit.”

Although Dobson said some positive things about Gov. Romney, he never endorsed him. In fact, he endorsed Mike Huckabee on Feb. 7, not that anyone remembers his too-little, too-late support. He explained why hadn’t endorsed a candidate prior to that date:

That left two pro-family candidates whom I could support, but I was reluctant to choose between them. However, the decision by Gov. Mitt Romney to put his campaign "on hold" changes the political landscape. The remaining candidate for whom I could vote is Gov. Huckabee.

So Deace’s complaint that Dobson sold out by supporting Mitt Romney is like lamenting that Angelina Jolie hates African kids. It just doesn’t make sense.

Deace also complained that Dobson eventually supported McCain (after there were absolutely no other viable options). This in spite of the fact that Deace himself supported McCain when it came down to it… saying Obama was too dangerous to elect.

But even if we ignore his loose grasp of the facts (at least as reported by Parker), his argument is that Romney wasn’t pro-family or pro-life enough, even though Romney:

* pushed for an amendment to Massachusetts’ constitution to overturn the same-sex “marriages” courts have imposed

* testified before Congress and wrote to senators in favor of the Federal Marriage Amendment

* ordered enforcement of a little-known 1913 law to prevent out-of-state gay couples from getting “married” in Massachusetts and provoking a national constitutional crisis

* opposed civil unions, but the Democrats in the state legislature demanded that they be legalized in the constitutional amendment

* is a “convert” to the pro-life position, much like Ronald Reagan

* believes life begins at conception even though his church has no official position on the matter

* vetoed a bill to give kids access to emergency contraception without parents’ knowledge

* promised a “moratorium” on changes to abortion laws in his 2002 gubernatorial run

* opposed Roe v. Wade and argued states should set abortion policy

* opposed cloning of human embryos for stem cell research—even though his wife has multiple sclerosis

* vetoed a bill to expand such research despite the overwhelmingly hostile liberal majority in his state legislature

“How can Deace say Romney wasn’t pro-family enough?” I asked my husband as we were making dinner.

“I bet he was just a Huckabee guy.”

And so I googled and found out Deace was, in fact, an early Huckabee backer who repeatedly claimed Gov. Romney’s name was “Mitchell.” He also claimed Romney was paying National Review, FoxNews, and Rush Limbaugh hush-money to keep his secret liberal views on the down-low. I didn’t listen to his show long enough to find out his position on crop circles, but I think Parker gave the guy a lot more credit than was due.

Anyway, just wanted to pop out to set the record straight… and to say hello! I don't know if any of you are still around, if you're even thinking about "Mitchell" Romney, or if you've imbibed the Kool Aid of hope and audacity. I also have no idea if "Mitchell" would go through another Presidential campaign... All I can say is that I've missed our daily conversation, loyal readers. Thanks for all your notes of encouragement. David is back from Iraq, and life is good.

My First Hitch Hiking Experience

I finished an article I was freelancing today, threw on my jogging shoes, grabbed my iPhone and headed out the door. It was warm, and gloomy and I was pleased when Josh Groban's Remember When It Rained repeated on my iPod. It did start to drizzle, and after about a mile, I realized the drizzle had turned into a real, actual storm. I kept jogging, not wanting to overreact, but tried to call my friend to come get me.

After an unsuccessful effort, I noticed several lightning strikes over a field. I didn't know it at the time, but my kids (who were about two miles away) were in "tornado position" in the halls of their school.

By this time, I was completely saturated, pretty desperate, and regretting that I never watch the weather.

That's when I looked up and thought my eyes were deceiving me. I saw a train of mule-pulled covered wagons, dozens and dozens of wagons like a scene from Little House on the Prairie.

I'd never hitch hiked before, but why not start with a mule parade?

Feeling my thumb was a little cliche, I raised my arm like hailing a taxi.

The wagon stopped, and the canvas cover was unzipped like a tent. Inside, Billy and Darlene shook my hand and introduced themselves and their son. They had come forty or so miles and were on their way to the mule trading in Columbia during our annual "Mule Day Festival."

For a mile or so, which takes a lot longer in a mule-pulled wagon that you might think, we visited. Inside the wagon were the trappings of modern life -- an open beer can, an iPod, and a cell phone. Cars buzzed by, and I could tell Darlene was worried about the mule tied to the back of the wagon.

"My mom told me never to hitch hike, but I figured I could just jump off the wagon if y'all were dangerous," I said.

"Well, you picked a good time to hitch hike," the dad said. "Mule owners are the most family-friendly group you'll ever find"

And they were.

I reluctantly got out of the cozy wagon and wished them well. Within thirty minutes, dime size hailed pelted my windows like rocks, flash flooding caused traffic to come to a complete stop, thunder shook my windows, thousands of lightning strikes touched the ground in our area, and schools were under lock down.

Sitting here in front of the weather broadcast, I'm chilled after getting drenched on my run. Plus, I wonder how my friends in the wagon train are doing, and whether anyone's there to help them like they'd so generously helped me.