Reminiscing about painful awesomeness

I promise a new post soon, but today I'm reminiscing about doing Tough Mudder a couple years ago. You can read the original post here as well as read the subsequent posts about our adventure here, here and here (it was a really long day, you guys.) 

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Tough Mudder: Why Do We Pay To Do These Things?

I'm going to attempt to post about my experience in Tough Mudder yesterday, but it'll probably take a couple posts because: A. A lot happened; and B. It's difficult to type given no comfortable position exists for my body any longer.

I'm trying to rest my elbows on the table, but they are both scratched. I prop my feet up and rub the cut on the back of my ankle from where pebbles got stuck in my sock the whole race. I try to cross my legs, but I have bruises on the side and backs of them and scratches down the front. And every now and then, I accidentally graze the bruise on my hip and fondly remember torso-planting on the side of a muddy bank.

In other words - the race was Awesome.

I stand corrected. In the words of Tough Mudder, it is not a race, but a "challenge." And it's a good thing it's not a race, considering it took my team just shy of four hours to go a little over 10 miles. Granted, we took our time, stopped for photos, lost each other at one point, etc. but it adds to the "challenge" because that's four hours of being wet and caked with mud, four hours of squinting in the dust and sun running around farmland, and four hours of waiting in nervous anticipation of this:

That's Everest. And for whatever reason, that was one of the obstacles I feared most and it's the second to last thing you are asked to do by Big Mudder. Please don't focus like the camera on the nice spectators sitting under their proper umbrellas. But look under the arrow - yes, at all those silly humans running up a wet half pipe, then launching their bodies towards the hands of strangers, hoping they are caught and held.

And believe me, soooo many were not. But more on that later.

So that was on my tired, mud-filled mind the whole four hours. You know what else was on my mind? Congestion. Because not only will I pay to endure torture, but I'll do it when I'm sicker than I've been all year. And let me tell you, besides not being able to breathe normally, it's not easy going through a race where everything is muddy and you need to blow your nose.

I used a banana peel at one point, people. Not cute.

But let's back up to the beginning. Per usual, I start psyching myself out by reading reviews and looking through photos online of the race beforehand. Reviews like "The worst that those wires will do is shut down your body and make you poop yourself. Otherwise, you're all good." And photos like this: 

http://www.facebook.com/toughmudder

So I was good and terrified excited by the time yesterday rolled around. I layed out my clothes the night before and think "remember, the gloves you bought are in your car - don't forget them in the morning." (mechanix -- pink of course.)

5:00 am: I wake up and take my 4th dose of Airborne in 24 hours and get ready to meet my team.

6:30 am: Riding down the interstate in my teammate's car, I realize -- I forgot my gloves. Awesome.

8:30 am-ish: we finally get through heinous traffic, get parked, and head to registration before our 9:20 start time.

9:00 am: One teammate is still stuck in a registration snafoo.

9:20 am: We watch our heat start the race. Without us.

It's fine. We'll just go with the next heat. Some of the girls on our team start people watching and see racers like this:

That bonnet is sooo not staying on through the race

Then we watch as people do warm up exercise, make comments to each other that we'll be doing that next, then the rest of our team joins us and - we all start running.

Like, right then. Towards the start line. Wha?? We look at each other like "that's it? No warm up? No gun going off? Guess we're starting!"

It was like de ja vu from when I tucked and rolled out of a car to sprint to my marathon start two years ago. We make comments about how anti-climatic it was when we realize we were runningto the start line, where a large group of other runners already were receiving final words (that means more when you've literally just signed a death waiver) from our race MC. Good thing someone on our team was paying attention!

9:40am: We get the best pep talk I've ever had before a race that included compliments about our braveness, and praised the Wounded Warrior Project for which the race raises money for. We have several rounds of yelling "Hoorah" at various statements and at one point we are waving our hands collectively, Hip Hop Hooray style, and chanting things. The MC calls out different folks as examples of what Tough Mudder is all about, like this guy who was behind us:

Those horns are sooo not staying on through the race

And at one point, we're told to "take a knee" and the motivational speech continues. But intermixed with all the pump-you-up accolades from our MC are his buzz-kill warnings:

"be careful out there - we've already had people hurt."

"Already seen sprained ankles, dislocated knees..."

"If you can't swim - SKIP THE WATER OBSTACLES. you all laugh but there'll be someone who does it anyway- and you will need to pull that person out."

"We write your number on your forehead and arm so that people can identify your body later"

"enjoy this time now- cuz pain's coming!"

Um, I think I've had enough motivation now, sir. Can we just start now, please? Before we change our minds?

And with a flume of orange smoke rushing at us -- that's exactly what we did. 

More in the next post.

Insight into typical text conversations with one of my BFFs

I like my friends to have big hearts that are nearly totally shrouded in sarcasm and a bit of irreverence. Below is a snippet of today's text discussion with a friend I've had for over a decade. I think we make good adults, don't you?


Me: Some company in Oak Ridge just called for a reference FYI. 
Are you gunna work with nukes? Cuz that'd be cool.

Her: I've applied to so many jobs I genuinely have not idea

Me: I'm going with nukes then. Good thing I told them you'd be really good at nukes. 

Her: Yeah, good thing!
 I mean its oak ridge...do they do anything else there?!

Me: not since the mall closed...
The Oak Ridge Boys still exist. Maybe it was to be a Roadie! Crap, the nukes thing probably won't help you then. Sorry yo. 

Her: I hope I get super powers. Like spider man or batman or something.
Blast! Get with it! You have one job! to make me sound awesome at all things!!!

Me: Ugh. I was distracted by her ridiculously thick accent

Her: Thick foreign or thick backwoods? Cause thick foreign could still be nukes!

Me: Ha! Good point. But thick backwoods.
...soooo probably roadie. Dang it.

Her: Well, I'm probably more suited for that anyway....


End Scene.

Hopefully not the Air Show of Confusion

I'm planning to head to Baltimore tomorrow to watch my Navy Blue Angels perform for the first time. The air show is part of a giant event commemorating the birthday of the Star-spangled banner. 

And it looks like it might be a logistical nightmare.

Which makes me think of the last time I was in Baltimore in a logistical nightmare: The Baltimore Grand Prix.

So I'm re-posting my account of that again below. Enjoy. 



The Grand Prix of Confusion (originally posted 2011)

This weekend I attended the Inaugural! Baltimore! Grand Prix!

The race itself was awesome. The whole getting there and getting back, however, was less than a smooth ride.

My friend J took me and I was put in charge of reading the directions from the website. And because the Grand Prix is a car race THROUGH the downtown of a city, they set up shuttle busses from satelite parking areas to get people to the race. 

The directions were fine until the last task of "take the second right at Light Street."

We couldn't find a Light Street so ended up driving into an old Walmart shopping center where we saw a lot of cars parked, but no signs about why. Our directions said "the shuttle bus area will be clearly marked and there will be volunteers to help you."

i.e. "You'd have to be an IDIOT to miss this, it will be so obvious"

We see two young guys handing out flyers so we ask them. "Do you know where Light Street is? Or where we pick up the shuttles for the race?"

They hand us a $5 dollar off coupon for "Nick's Fish House" and tell us Light Street is across town.

Okaaay. This looks like a parking lot for something since there are cars PARKED ON GRASS everywhere, but we'll try this again. So we leave, drive around, make U-turns, finally find a lot that says it's for the race, and we pull in. And the guy asks for $20 bucks. 

Huh? It's supposed to be free, this must not be the right lot. So we ask him where Light Street is. 

He says it's across town.

So we nearly just pay the 20 bucks just so we can stop driving around but J and I are both of the "I'll walk 5 miles before I pay for parking" type so we decide we'll give it one more try before conceding.

So we head back to Walmart. 

And get offered a coupon again.

But this time, we see shuttle busses and ask one of the drivers "do these take us to the rac..." 

"Get on that one!"

We obey, and I start to show THAT driver my Grand Prix ticket and he waves me off with a "I don't need to see that."

So J and I take our seats, passing by rows of interesting looking people (some slumped over) and think "Ok! We're getting somewhere now!"

(...ooor we just jumped on a random bus that will take us Who Knows Where! Either way, it'll be an adventure, right?)

So we drive for a bit and the bus finally stops - and no one does anything. The driver doesn't say anything, the people don't move. Finally a lady yells "is this where we get off?" And the driver says yes. But still most of the bus doesn't move (particularly the slumped over ones). But whatever, J and I are getting off! 

We look at our tickets which say Gate D. And there's a sign in front of us that says Gate C. So we figure that's close enough and start heading that way. 

Our tickets were to get us into the "Infield", which is the large area of downtown that is in the middle of the course the cars are running around all day. And we can HEAR race cars, but can't SEE them yet, so we walk around trying to get "in" and No One Can Help Us. We ask no less than 5 different people how we just get IN, and we are pointed to a different place each time. We finally realize we have to go in a building, up escalators in a mall, and over a pedestrian bridge to finally get "in" the infield. (which is outside). 

And after waiting in line, we finally get on the bridge and see a line of complaining people being held up by metro cops, going the other way. So J and I keep going our direction, and now we wonder "after all this to get in, are we not allowed to get OUT??" and that's when I hear a volunteer tell someone that the bridge isn't built to hold all the people that are currently trying to use it.

Oh neat! Good planning, Baltimore!

Needless to say, J and I picked up the pace.

Once we finally got IN, we relaxed a little, bought lemonade, and tried not to worry about how we were later going to have to get OUT. Whatever! We are here now! Onto the cars!

We stake out ground right in front of the start line and realize we are allowed to go down on the track to meet the drivers. So of course I have to take photos. And I really know nothing about this sport. But I get a photo with a car anyway. But that's not enough. I need one with a driver. So we find a guy who is half wearing a race jumpsuit thing, so I pounce.

Me: Can I take a photo with you? 
Him: Oh, I'm not the driver
Me: Can you pretend to be? 

So here's Fake Driver:

(Then I found a REAL driver right as the race organizers were pushing us off the track and I pounce on him too. So here is Real Driver:)

So then J and I take our place outside the protective fence and the cars start up and take off.

And here's where I black out from happiness because those cars are LOUD and FAST and I have a ridiculous half-mouth-open, half-goofy-grin expression on my face for the next few laps.

And I'm not alone. The people around me have similar expressions and it's funny how Mutual Excitement! makes everyone feel like we all know each other. So the little guy standing in front of J and I turns to look at us like "Do you see that man!!! Do you see that!!" Except we can't actually understand him, he's just excitedly mumbling and HITTING J repeatedly.

So I'm still gazing in awe at the cars, and J's trying to pry this man off of him, and the lady next to me feels she needs to let me know which car she loves the most, and the man next to her is yelling "oh he has that WIIIDE open, that is WIIIIDE open!!!" 

So that's the little scene of our spectator group. I then attempt to actually photograph the cars. But did I mention they are FAST? Here is what I ended up taking like 6 photos of:

Yep. You can't actually see a car in the photo at all. 
I eventually got a little better at it:

And seriously, besides the poor logistics (and the whole possible bridge collapse thing) this was a fantastic event. And we stayed for hours before finally heading back home....

...then we realize: How do we GET back home?

By now, we've wandered around the "infield" so much we don't know how to get back to where the bus dropped us off. So I remember we were near Gate C and we look at the map-

And there is no Gate C.

So we see a Gate A, and head for that. Eh, it'll lead OUT somewhere, right?

We ask YET ANOTHER PERSON to help us and after a long process, we finally find random busses picking people up in a parking lot.

So we start to get on one and I realize -- these are City busses. Not so much Free Shuttles. And I have no idea where they are going, since I don't live in Baltimore.

So I'm trying to explain things to the driver, who is giving me the "Blink....Blink...." face like he has no clue what I'm saying and thankfully two guys FROM NEW JERSEY that are sitting on the bus tell us they know exactly what we are saying, they are going to the same place, and to just get on.

So we all bond, talking about how poorly organized this whole thing was and how we all got lost getting into the event, and the bus starts driving into a part of town J and I have not seen.

But the Jersey guys are adamant and they assure us "it's fine, he's going to drop us off at the corner, then we walk to another corner and get on another bus..."

Oh dear. But since J and I don't have a better plan, we follow along. And guess where the random corner in this random part of town is that the bus drops us off at?

Light Street.

So we've now come full-circle in our frustration. And we head to this elusive Other Bus --

And we walk RIGHT INTO THE ORIGINAL PLACE THE SHUTTLES DROPPED US OFF AT EARLIER AT NON-EXISTENT GATE C.

No freaking way! We really just took a bus across town...to just get around the infield. Sigh.

Nonetheless, surely these HAVE to take us back to our cars, right? And we see a sign that says "Port Covington".

What tha? We aren't trying to go to A PORT, we are trying to go to the street -that isn't Light Street- where the old Walmart -AND OUR CAR- is!

But once again, J and I have no other plan. So we hop on.

And lo and behold, we DO end up back at the Walmart -- which we realize is part of the "Port Covington Shopping Center." Ah, nothing like labeling things in a way WE COULD UNDERSTAND, like, I don't know, "Shuttle Parking Lot A"??

And as the bus is driving, we pass ...."Nick's Fish House". 

Ha! We really have come full-circle.

So we take our coupons and eat at that darn fish house and happily finish out our day of confusion.

My 9/11 Story

This time each year, I'm reminded of when I first moved to this city. I've been in D.C. 13 years now and I'm still so in love with it - which is surprising, given how my time here began: with 9/11.

I've posted this before, but here is my personal story of being at the White House when that happened. I in no way want to belittle the tragedy, loss, symbolism and heroism of that day and I'm so grateful that everyone I know was kept safe. But below is what happened to me, humorous parts and all.

During my Semester In D.C. (told briefly about here), our school work consisted of half in-class work and half internship work. By some miracle, my internship ended up being at the White House, where I later got hired full-time as a Political Appointee.

Me and the other interns in my first office

But my internship started on 9/10/01....

So the next day - aka My Second Day on the job - I came in early to open the office. We quickly heard reports of the first plane hitting the tower in NYC and everyone just thought it was an unfortunate accident.

When the second plane hit - we all knew something bigger was happening and we felt like we were likely going to be a target.

Everyone wore worried expressions but kept working and kept an eye on the news. After the third plane hit, I distinctly remember standing on the balcony of our office, watching the smoke rise from the Pentagon.

But we continued to stay.

After a little bit, the headline on television read "White House Evacuated." To which we understandably were like -

"Huh?"

Because we were still there and hadn't heard anything outside of our office either. I stepped out into the hallway just to see if anyone looked like they might be scurrying away and further down the hall was a Secret Service agent in bomb-squad gear. And he saw me and yelled:

"What are you doing! This is real!"

To which I kind of slunked sheepishly back in my office with a timid "uh, guys? I think we're supposed to leave...."

Being the Type A go-getters that us interns were (there were 3 others besides me) we, of course, were not going to be the first ones to freak out. We were going down with the ship too, dang it! So even after I convinced most of the office to leave, another intern kept typing away before someone forced her to also get out.

This is how crazy people in D.C. are. Our lives are at risk, sure, but let's try to go ahead and finish that press release anyway...

It was weird because we didn't run. It felt so much like a dream that it was hard to get all that excited. I remember exiting the building and into the sunshine -- that day was gorgeous in D.C. Later, we would all comment on the sick juxtaposition of having such a horrible act take place on such a beautiful day...

The streets. Were. Gridlocked. And I remember people incessantly honking as if that would make anyone move faster. There was no place to move. Cars had already swarmed the streets, there were erroneous reports of fires on the National Mall, fires in the Metro trains, car bombs at the White House, etc. No one know what was going to be hit next.

Thankfully, a staffer in our office lived not too far away in Georgetown so a few of us walked a couple miles with her, passing by places like The World Bank which made me look up warily like "are YOU next?"

Somehow I was able to call my mom on my cell - which was a miracle in itself because the phone lines were jammed by that point - and I remember her tearfully telling me to "just come home." Of course I didn't consider that, though other people in my school program did and the school itself considered sending all of us home. That all happened later though. Right now, I was planning to stay in Georgetown until we could figure out how to get me back to our school's building on Capitol Hill.

A group of people ended up at the staffer's house and I remember being glued to the news (that was before the networks stopped showing the more graphic images of the towers) and some of us prayed, others were on the phone with their doctors proactively getting prescriptions for Cipro (again...type A-ers don't mess around...) and the staffer, me, and another intern (who would later become one of my best friends and incidentally was part of the Slap Game and created Henrietta the Turkey here) decided to go buy supplies - just in case.

Here's where it gets humorous because we were PARANOID. And granted, no one knew what was happening at that point or whether there had been any sort of bio or chemical agents released, or how long these attacks were going to continue, etc. But even still, we may have gone a bit overboard....

So the three of us - me, the other intern and the staffer - set out to buy food and bottled water. You know, just in case we needed to build a fallout shelter in the nicest neighborhood in D.C. And we think "what if there IS some kind of biological something in the air?"

So we put on sunglasses.

And bandanas.

...on our faces. So now we are tredging out of the staffer's home - in posh Georgetown - and we look like bandits.

And we head to what was referred to as the Social Safeway.

Side Note: D.C. has had several Safeway grocery stores in different parts of the city that were nicknamed for their various qualities. "Social Safeway" was in Georgetown where the cool kids went. "Unsafe Safeway" (the one *I* had to use by my school) was in a bad part of town on Capitol Hill. "Soviet Safeway" was so named because it had long lines and little options...and so on and so on. (Have I mentioned I love this city? Such character.)

So we stop by an ATM on the way to Social Safeway and we realize we look like we are going to rob a bank. So then we just look at each other, burst out laughing, and take off our ridiculous terrorism prevention "gear".

We bought some things and returned to the house where we stayed the rest of the day until the roads cleared and I was able to be driven back to my school.

The next day - we went back to the White House. And that always struck me because everyone went back. We still didn't know for sure what was going on or if the attacks were over, but no one let fear stop their lives. The President himself came around later to personally thank people for coming back to work. It made me feel good to see that and also hear the stories of how people had helped each other the day before. And we continued to help in whatever way we could over the next few weeks, even if just in little ways, like buying coffee for the National Guard troops and extra security personnel who quickly moved into our city to protect us, or serving food to the workers cleaning up the Pentagon.

The next several months held other interesting events as well (false alarms of more attacks, anthrax, snipers, etc.) but now you know what memories go through my mind on 9/11 every year. DC changed so much that day, with road's being closed and security ramping up, but of course our country and the world changed in much bigger ways as well.

Each anniversary, us staffers used to go to the South Lawn of the White House to have a moment of silence with the President before he headed over to do the same at the Pentagon at the exact time it was hit. Now, I usually hold some sort of my own moment of silence for not only that day, but in gratitude for my own safety and for the people, many of whom I'm proud to call friends, who have continued to work in intelligence and military operations to make sure that hasn't happened again.

We will never forget.

Part of a candle-light vigil outside the Capitol after the attacks. (All of my photos from that time are hard copies so forgive the poor quality)

Anti-war protest that formed a couple weeks later

Police cars and police in riot gear filled the streets

After serving food all night to the workers cleaning up the Pentagon, I met this man who was bringing signs school children had made for the makeshift memorial there. More of that memorial below: 

Giving is Selfish (And I recommend it)

In the wake of the ALS challenge, there has been much discussion on the effectiveness of such a campaign. Some call it Slacktivism, others are just annoyed that the videos are filling their Facebook Newsfeeds, displacing important cat memes (*raises hand sheepishly*), others even argue that it's just self-promotion.

And honestly, I myself have had reservations about the challenge. First -- the whole water thing was originally meant as a punishment for not giving but somehow it turned into what everyone did in addition to giving (which kind of makes giving miserable, which kind of seems like the wrong message to send if you are trying to make people want to give to charities...)  But seriously, I get the idea. But at this point I think it's gone on so long that we've passed the point of Raising Awareness and are solidly moving into the "If I see one more video I will vow NOT to give to charity until they stop" territory.

But you can't say that it hasn't raised money and awareness. I didn't know what ALS stood for before this! (and since my friend accidentally said she was donating to "ASL," maybe even the American Sign Language organization is getting money out of this deal too!)

Have the videos made me pick this up as a new pet cause? No. But maybe for some people, it did.

(and as a bonus, the world was also given the gift of these gems. *giggle*)

And there's a behavioral science lesson that teaches that the act of making some gesture -- like signing a petition - actually changes our self-perception and we begin to see ourselves as someone who does things. Which in turn, makes you take a bigger action the next time. That's why people still use petitions. The piece of paper itself likely does absolutely nothing, but they've pulled a Jedi mind trick on you so that when they come back in a month or so and ask you to join a protest or donate money, you are more likely to do so. Because you signed a paper. That makes you someone who joins causes. Someone who takes action. So if you ignore a cause now, you're going against who you are as a person.

Sneaky, right?

But brilliant. So who knows, maybe many of the people who made these videos now subconsciously see themselves as someone who does things, which may spur them on to other charitable acts in the future.

But isn't it also inherently self-promotional to post a video of yourself giving to charity?

And self-promotion aside, you also get to feel good after you support a cause - which makes giving kind of selfish, right?

There’s a Friends episode where Phoebe tries to prove to Joey that there are purely selfless acts in the world, but she fails. She goes as far as donating money to PBS, which she hates (because the Sesame Street characters never wrote her a letter, so completely understandable) and feels like she has finally done something completely unselfish because she got nothing in return -- until she realizes how happy giving made her. 

So yeah, it would seem we always get something in return. You get to  feel good (and with the ALS challenge, you also get recognition, whether you wanted it or not.)

Should those inherently selfish incentives keep you from supporting charities?

Of course not.

By posting things about your support, you may really raise awareness and spur someone else to get involved. And yes, you will always get something out of giving: I think that’s God’s incentive for us to treat each other well – we get to feel happy afterwards.

So I guess my point is: don't shy away from raising awareness for causes just because you accidentally get recognition in the process. And don't feel like charity has to be miserable! You will always get something in return, that's just part of the deal.

Recently, I was told by one of my employers to record my hours of volunteer service for the year. I started thinking of what that would include and I remembered that I volunteered to run from D.C. to Boston to raise money and awareness for the Boston Marathon bombing victims.

And my first thought was: I can't count that. That was fun! Then I realized - well I did donate time gathering sponsors and coordinating an awareness event in D.C., then I ran the thing, which entailed giving up more time, sleep, and - at times - sanity (although that's hardly quantifiable, because who really knows how much sanity I had to begin with...) and I gave physical energy...huh. I suppose that probably does count as philanthropy!

But you know what -- I wanted to do it. I paid to do it. I gave up Starbucks to do it! Because the cause was important to me -but it was also fun! It was an adventure that I'll tell my grandkids about. I looked forward to that "service" as much as I look forward to vacations. It was very much selfish while simultaneously being very much philanthropic.

I feel this way whenever I volunteer at the Walter Reed military hospital too. I always leave more hopeful.  You would think it’d be the opposite, but watching people triumph over circumstances reminds me that so much more is possible in life. I selfishly look forward to going there. I walk away with more than I walked in with - every time.

It's the same when you do small things, like stopping to help someone who dropped something, or paying for the Starbucks order of the person behind you. You end up feeling really good, and heck, sometimes you do even get recognition for it and people look at you as someone who does things.

Do it anyway.

I'm certainly not saying you should do things out of pride, and I'm not even saying you should give just to feel good, but I am saying you will feel good and on some level our subconscious learns that and we want to do more good and we feel even more happy and it starts a really great cycle of meeting someone else’s needs while also meeting our own accidentally in the process.

So maybe publicly dumping water on yourself for ALS isn't your thing (or maybe you don't know how buckets work):



GIFSoup


but I recommend that you consider finding some cause or random act of kindness that is your thing.

You know, selfishly.

http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation-now/2014/08/12/ice-bucket-challenge-als-association/13940323/

What I saw in Iraq

With the situation taking place right now in Northern Iraq, I started re-reading my thoughts after visiting there last year. I thought I'd re-post some in the hopes that it helps personalize some of the human experience there or gives a little more context into what people living there have already endured before this latest blow. I'm definitely not an expert, but I figure most Americans have not visited that particular country for "fun" so I might as well share what I saw. Another place to find some beautiful context is on the Humans of New York site or Facebook page. He is there now, visually capturing human experience in the midst of such conflict. 

(from original post in April 2013)
It's hard for me to describe what all we experienced in Iraqi Kurdistan because so much of the Kurds' experience is so foreign to our experience as Americans. There, it's very common for someone to be mid-conversation and casually mention "yeah, so then I was in the 3rd grade...and that's when my father was buried alive by Saddam...and then we went to fourth grade..." They don't miss a beat, it's so common of an experience there to have lost one or both parents, or to have been imprisoned or been tortured. Just in our short time there, we had the following occur (along with many other similar encounters):

1. While we were in mid-conversation with a Christian pastor in his living room, our host stopped him and said "well, *Pastor X [I'm not using actual names in these posts because many people there could be in danger, either for their beliefs or because they fled another country, etc.] weren't you put in prison as well?" And he laughs and says "oh yes! It was a wonderful time in my ministry because so many people in Iraq end up in prison at some point so I had a captive audience!" 

The fact that he was in prison didn't even cross his mind though. That's how normal it is.

2. While we were hanging out with Arab youth studying English in a park at the site of one of Saddam's old torture centers, we found out that the most gregarious kid of them all, one who happily told us of his plans to go to America and be in the creative arts, had had a brother shot and killed inside the torture center we toured a couple days beforehand.

3. The owners of the English learning center where these kids attended, casually mentioned that they give discounts to families in need and "martyrs." I later asked our host what they considered a martyr and she said it meant they helped anyone whose parents had been murdered by Saddam. They had a discount for that, it was so prevalent.

4. During a church service, where you'd normally hear prayer requests like "oh, I'm thinking of switching jobs so pray for wisdom" or "oh I'm having car problems, pray for that," we literally heard requests (translated for us) for things like "pray for church member X whose father was just kidnapped and held for ransom," "pray for all those across Iraq who are in prison with no justifiable cause." Such an eye-opener....

But the resiliency of the people there. 

Wow.

Part of the reason I was so excited to come on this trip was because I've struggled with my own faith the last few years and I really wanted to hear from people who would inspire me again. 

And I know a lot of people who read this blog do not subscribe to faith in Jesus, but ya'll know I do and I was visiting with fellow "believers" most of the time I was in Iraq so a lot of my stories will be about them. Deal with it. :) No, in all seriousness, I hope you keep reading anyway. If not, I'll come find you....  

Anyway, I actually think the U.S. might be a more difficult place at times than other countries to have a true, meaningful Christian faith because we are so spoiled, or because Christianity is so well-known and played off as simple-minded, or because many people feel like it's enough to just go to church once a year or say you "believe in a higher power" and that's it. I think true belief in God/Jesus/The Bible requires discipline and some sacrifice and permeates your whole life, not just enters it every now and then when it's convenient. It's tough to live that way, and to find a ton of other people who also live that way, but in some African, Latin American, Middle Eastern, etc. cultures, I've seen such an intense awe of God, such a raw belief that I start craving that again and end up travelling again every few years to find it. I was searching for that when I headed to Iraq and I definitely found it. We heard many stories of people from all backgrounds explaining that they'd had visions or recurring dreams or experiences that for whatever reason made them know Jesus is real and that they needed to believe in God's sovereignty. Stuff that you can't just chalk up to coincidence or influence from someone else. Things that happened to them that they just couldn't deny.

It was remarkable to experience the raw faith in God and sense of hope these people had after going through so many horrific things. There’s no indication of bitterness or loss of faith in a “good God” because of what they’ve experienced. I find that remarkable and feel like that’s a supernaturally-given strength and peace that I could use myself sometimes. Even though my situations where I question God pale so much in comparison to theirs.

In that same city, we heard a first-hand account of someone’s torture experience in one of Saddam’s old prison/torture centers. I’ll tell you about that next post.

(you can read the next post now here, or I'll re-post it soon.)

Anatomy of a Run

Ever since my surgery in May, I've struggled getting back into running. I can barely go any distance and while I've always been slow, I feel even slower now. Plus I've developed some weird angry calf muscle thing in my left leg -- can anyone tell me how to make that go away?? Anyway, sometimes to pass the time, I step outside of myself and view what my run entails...while I'm running. Because that's the kind of craziness that starts happening in your brain when you are running. I'm sure there are plenty of similar posts out there about this but since I'm bored, I figured I'd write down what often makes up my runs. Feel free to read while I go attack my calf with The Stick again....

Pictured above: A not very good depiction of Dana's Running Trail

For a rough estimate of where each item occurs in my run, refer to the map above. This is kind of what my trail looks like but if I showed my actual trail, you might try to find me and see how slow I really am and I can't have that happen, Internet. We just don't know each other that well yet.

Dana's Typical Run: 

1. Where Beyonce starts to sing to me and I start my run.
2. Where I pass a man on a bike who leers at me and I make a face and run faster
3. Where I quickly slow down again because I'm only a half mile in and I already want to stop.
4. The place where I check to see how fast I'm running and then get angry and sad.
5. THANK THE LORD, I've at least done one mile. I wonder if I can take a walk break now.
6. Where Harlem Shake comes on and I have to resist the urge to stop and do The Bernie         



7. Where I adjust my clothes
8. Where I adjust my arm band
9. Where I pass a ridiculously ripped girl wearing only a sports bra and a pair of shorts she clearly stole from a 4-year-old. I smile. She doesn't. I hate her and want to be her simultaneously.
10. The place where I giggle because the man running the other way is doing the Phoebe run and doesn't know it. 
11. The general area where I've seen: a man nearly drive into the river, a man walking his 5-foot long pet snake, and a lady roller-blading with a cocker spaniel on her shoulders. Which is not far from the general area where I once tripped over nothing and skinned my leg from my knee to my ankle. I'm on high alert in these areas.  
12. Where I adjust my clothes
13. Where I adjust my arm band
14. Where I try to look like a good runner because cars can see me
15. The area where cars can no longer see me and I resume looking like a turtle jogging through peanut butter
16. Where I'm so tired that when I pass another runner the only thing I can do in acknowledgement is nod imperceptibly. 
17. Where another runner passes me and bares his teeth like a Doberman. Yes sir, I understand you are attempting to smile and physically can't right now. I see your grimace and raise you an eye blink that is supposed to be a head nod in acknowledgement of your existence
18. The place where I make an audible grunting noise in protest of this whole running thing
19. Where I freeze and glance around, wondering how loud that grunt was since I'm wearing my headphones. 
20. The spot where I lose all sense of pride and start to bob my head and mouth the words to a Kanye West song to distract me from running.  
21. Where I adjust my clothes
22. Where I adjust my arm band
23. Where I finally hit a place where I'm close enough to my house that I'll let myself walk guilt-free the rest of the way. 
24. Where a cute runner passes me and I get to pretend that- "Yeah bro, I just finished my run and I was super fast and awesome at it so we really are kindred running spirits!" I am able to move my face muscles again and actually smile at him. He is fast and makes me wonder why I ever try to run. 
25. Where I get back to my house, sweaty and dejected, and then Tim Tebow tells me I did a good job through my Nike+ app. So naturally I immediately start planning my run tomorrow.  

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