Restoring that relationship...

What promises of recovery have come true in your life?

That was the question asked in our men's open share group at Pratt Celebrate Recovery this past Monday night. In the middle of answering that question by talking about the promise of forgiveness from God as we forgive others (Matt. 6:14-15) and the freedom I found when I forgave the man who abused me, this thought popped into my head:

"Forgiving others isn't about our relationship with them as much as it is about our relationship with God."

If we can't forgive others - or won't - we are damaging our relationship with our Father in Heaven. We cannot enjoy intimacy with him until we forgive our brother or sister from our heart.

Something for all of us to consider!

This work is beneath me...

I was reading Nehemiah 3 recently. It's a rather tedious chapter. The entire thing is a list of those who helped rebuild the walls of Jerusalem after the Babylonian exile. Most of the names (okay, all of them) are people I've never taken note of.

I was reading along as best I could when I stumbled at verse 5.

"The next section was repaired by the men of Tekoa, but their nobles would not put their shoulders to the work under their supervisors." (NIV)

Ugh! There's nothing worse than an uppity person who won't join in the work. Worse yet, a proud peacock who stands around and tells others what to do.

When I read these words, I was reminded of a conversation I'd had with a friend recently. He received a promotion to a supervisory role at work last month. Before he took over the role, he took time to talk to each of the men who would answer to him. He said the same thing to each of them: "I'm here to serve you. Let me know how I can help." That's what godly leadership looks like!

Jesus said, "You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave—just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." (Matthew 20:25-28)

Not so with you! That means no one who claims to follow Jesus can Lord it over people. As a boss, they can give direction, but they should be ready to serve. They ought to put their shoulder to the work and join in what God is doing.

By the way, if you go on to verse 27 in Nehemiah 3, you'll see an amazing thing.

"Next to them, the men of Tekoa repaired another section, from the great projecting tower to the wall of Ophel." (NIV)

While the nobles were sitting around doing nothing, these men of God were hard at work. I want to be like them! Hope you do too!

Dumb sports controversy...

How far does sports worship go? Pretty far, evidently. People are criticizing a baseball player for taking two games off to be with his wife while she gives birth. Ridiculous! Even more ridiculous...Boomer Esiason complained that he should have insisted that his wife have a c-section before the start of the season so it wouldn't interfere with work. Grrrrrr! Folks, it's a game! Yes, he gets paid to play, but it's still a game!

Sick and tired?

I was listening to a friend talk about the parenting struggles he faces on a daily basis. He talked about how hard he works to raise his kids. Then he said something that blew me away. I won't get it exactly right, but it was something like this:

I was telling God how tired I was of constantly having to remind my kids of the rules and God said to me, "You don't get to be tired of parenting. You're their dad. You have to parent them or no one will."

I was so glad for that reminder. Parenting can be wearisome for every parent at times. We can, in our hearts, get sick and tired of the rebellion, the attitudes, the defiance. But we don't have any option other than to keep parenting. If I don't parent my kids, no one else will.

Later, after my friend was gone, I too heard God's gentle voice. He spoke to my heart:

"If you're tired of parenting, you're doing it in your own strength instead of in mine."

Another important reminder. Following God's way is not easy when we try it in our own strength. It is only easy if God is doing things his way through us. I need his power. Every parent does. Otherwise we'll often become sick and tired of the task set before us.

Dads, moms, pray for help in raising your kids. You need it. Your kids need you to ask for it so you aren't overbearing or mean-spirited or just plain cranky.

"Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord." (Ephesians 6:4)

Thanks, Mrs. Novotny!

One year ago today, I walked by Mrs. Novotny's room and, on a whim, stopped in to ask her how much she would charge for guitar lessons.

"For you?" she asked.

"Yes." I answered.

Her reply blew me away. She simply and quietly said, "Nothing." She told me later that she knew it would help me in my ministry, so she was glad to help out.

That afternoon around 3:45, Mrs. Novotny sat down with me and taught me how to play an E minor chord and a few notes. She sent me home with a guitar and a beginners book.

I am so thankful for Mrs. Novotny's lesson today. Playing the guitar and singing regularly help me express my heart to God and give me an outlet for the weird thoughts in my head too. I've written more than twenty new songs since I learned the E minor chord on December 5, 2012.

From the bottom of my heart...thanks, Mrs. Novotny!

Wise counsel...

I read the story of Rehoboam's ascent to the throne of Israel from 2 Kings 12 this morning. It struck me as completely insane that this young king rejected the advice of the older advisers, men who had time and time again heard the judgments and wisdom of his father, Solomon, the wisest man ever to have lived. Did he not thin that maybe these guys might know a little bit about life and wise actions? He didn't act on it if he thought it.

So let me ask you a question or two to challenge your thinking: Who are the wise men and women near you? Are you listening to them or to the "young men" you grew up with who are self-centered and unwise?

Who you listen to matters. Find godly advisers who will point you in the right direction. Reject every bit of guidance that exalts you or sounds even a little bit self-serving.

Craving junk...

I went to the store last night to buy fruits and vegetables. Nice green leafy lettuce, a firm green cucumber, crunchy orange carrots and the like were on my list. Junk food was not. I went to the produce department, picked out a tomato or two, some green peppers, the other things on the list and then I began to roam aimlessly down other aisles. I walked down the drinks row. No problems. I strolled down the crackers and chips row. Big problem.

I love Kroger's Sea Salt and Cracked Pepper kettle chips. A bag of these savory creations "fell" into my cart. I wandered down a few more aisles. Somewhere in the frozen food section, a question popped into my head. "Why am I carrying a bag of greasy potato chips toward the checkout stand?"

Just over a year ago, I finally gave up soda pop. I craved it every day for weeks after I quit. Eventually, though, my desire for fizzy drinks dissipated. I stopped wanting a sip every ten minutes. I turned down offers of Pepsi, my favorite cola, time and time again. Who needs it?

Back to last night's bag of chips. When the "why am I carrying these things" question came to me, I shook my head at my illicit longing for junk. Then I did what I had never done before. I pulled the bag out of  my cart, set it down in the nearby ice cream cone display and walked away.

Can I kick the chip habit? I believe I can. I invite you to hold me accountable. No more chips. And...no more gummy worms. It's time to end the reign of junk in my belly.

I give you my neck...

I watched part of it. I didn't want to, but I was strangely drawn to the video that was purportedly of a priest being beheaded by a mob of Muslims. I listened to the language I couldn't understand being spoken and then to the indecipherable shouts as the man in ropes was thrown forward and the barbarous act of beheading began. I was thankful that the crowd blocked my view as the camera rolled. It was only after the butchering was done that I saw the head held high by the man in black who'd done the deed. I shut down the site at that point. I was sickened enough.

Ever since I watched this murderous act, I've been thinking. Back in the 70s, I watched my fair share of end times movies. I remember one scene in particular from one of the apocalyptic thrillers. A man of faith was walked up several steps to a guillotine and his head was removed in a split second. My heart was in my throat, but I decided then that if I was called upon to give my life for Jesus, I could do it.

The feelings I had while watching what I believed was a gruesome martyrdom were much different at first. The length of time it took from the first cut to the finished decapitation was longer than the quick and relatively painless death of the man in the movie. I imagined how awful it would be to feel the first stroke of the blade across the neck. I wondered how long the pain continued after the vocal cords could no longer scream. Thinking about it made me sick. I felt for the priest who turned out to not be a priest as he lost his life at the hands of evil men.

My perspective has changed over time. The time of the cutting wasn't really all that long. Maybe a minute. While not pleasant, at least not as pleasant in thought as death by guillotine, it would be endurable. I've suffered pain for longer already. Granted, the pain I've gone through hasn't had the additional fearfulness the surety of death must bring, but still I've tasted agony once or twice. It is bearable for a minute or two or three.

This realization has led me to pray a prayer that may sound strange to some. I've been praying, "Lord, I give you my neck." I know martyrdom may never be my lot in life, but I want to make sure the decision is made now to choose Jesus over life. If I wait, I'm afraid I might chicken out when the large knives come out. My heart is in my throat again, but I know I could do it endure even the worst death imaginable with God's strength. It was, after all, his power that got Jesus through the much longer and more agonizing execution he suffered through.

"For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart." (Hebrews 12:2-3)

Jesus has had my heart to do with as he pleases for many years. I choose today to give him my neck too. However he can use it. It is his.

I'm a liar...

I've come to that place in my recovery where I am finally ready to start thinking about and dealing with the root of the problem - my character defects. I've got a bunch of them. One of the most egregious is my tendency to not be quite truthful. I am, more often that I'd like to be, dishonest. Just so you understand what I'm saying, here's a personalized definition of dishonesty I ran across on a fellow struggler's blog.

• Dishonesty – Sins of omission and commission. Telling lies, hiding things, telling half truths or pretending something is so that isn't. Withholding important information. Adding untrue details to stories and situations. Stealing, cheating, taking things that aren't ours and that we aren't entitled to. (From Don't Drink and Don't Die)

I've been guilty of everything mentioned here. I'm especially bad when it comes to adding untrue details to stories and situations. I went to the dentist last week and when they asked me if I flossed, I said, "Yes." I don't know why I did it. I have flossed. I flossed regularly after my last exam. I did it for weeks and then I quit. When I said, "Yes," I probably hadn't flossed in over a month. Why did I say, "Yes"?

I am working on this defect of character. With God's help - he knows I need it - I will be honest in all my dealings with others.

Overthinking the Marathon...

I recently picked up and read a copy of Ray Charbonneau’s self-published work, Overthinking the Marathon. From the very beginning, the author’s conversational style grabbed me. Every day as he trained for the 2012 Cape Cod Marathon, he “scribbled” out a personal story worth reading. He made me feel like a friend he was sharing an important part of his life with.

Sometimes his tales were filled with wild animals (mostly bunnies). He considered these to be good omens worth mentioning on dozens of occasions.

Ray often talked about his wife’s training for her third marathon. I appreciated the way he spoke of his wife with great respect. His obvious love for her was refreshing in a world where spouses are so often grumping and complaining about each other. He cheered for her as much as she did for him.

There were also plenty of reports on his running club’s outings. He talked about their regular events and the special things they did together. Sometimes he’d miss a run to judge a cooking contest that the group was putting on. Other times, he’d volunteer at a race with others from the club. As a reader, I almost felt like I was a part of the Sommerville Road Runners when the last page was turned.

Ray running in an event

I laughed throughout the book as Ray described the adjustments he made to his shoe inserts. He changed his mind about what he needed more often than I could imagine anyone doing. He’d add a shim here and a wedge there.

The race reports sprinkled throughout the book were as detailed as anyone could ask for. He talked about the joys and successes right along with the aches and pains and disappointments. He was honest about his mistakes and admitted in the end that he probably raced too much in his lead up to the Cape Cod.

Charbonneau has a knack for making running advice interesting and helpful. In my favorite chapter of the entire book, “This I Believe,” he reasoned with his readers that longer-than-marathon runs are necessary for everyone training for a fast marathon. His logic was clear and quite convincing. Here’s just one paragraph worth of his advice.

“Plan to run the extra-long run slower than usual so it doesn’t take too much out of you. Don’t worry about the time. Your only goal is to put in the distance. Run comfortably; take walking breaks if you want. Stop at a store to get more sports drink, or on a bridge to admire the view.” (Sorry no page numbers on the Kindle. You can look for Thursday, August 16th.)

As a cyclist and runner who loves both sports, I was greatly entertained by Ray’s great dislike of cycling. His tales of woe and of trying out clipless pedals made me smile as I remembered my own plunge into the world of complete attachment to the bike.

The culmination of the book, the high point, was Charbonneau’s post-race report on the Cape Cod Marathon. Throughout the book he’d been working hard to be ready for a Boston qualifying time at the October race. Running with him every mile of the way from the starting line to the finish was a satisfying journey. I’ll let you read the book to find out if he met his BQ goal. I’d hate to ruin the surprise.

Ray and Mike meet before
the 2013 Boston Marathon

Having finished Overthinking the Marathon, I am ready to read another of his books. Right now, I’ve got my eye on Chasing the Runner’s High: My Sixty Million-Step Plan. Just the title makes me want to pick it up and start reading.

(Update: Ray ran in the 2013 Boston Marathon as a guide for a visually impaired runner named Mike. The two of them crossed the finish line in 3:58 (chip time). The time on the clock was 4:05. The pair walked away from the finish area just five to six minutes before the bombs went off.)

GIVEAWAY: Tasha won an eBook copy of "Overthinking the Marathon" on Wednesday, Apri 24, 2013. Thanks to all who read the review. A big thank you goes to Ray for making this giveaway possible.

The ides of April...

Yesterday when I tweeted, "Beware the ides of April," I was thinking about taxes, not the Boston Marathon. I never imagined that I would click around later in the day and see smoke billowing from the buildings near the famous race's finish line. I couldn't have dreamed up the images of collapsed and wounded bodies.

I ran angry this morning. Really angry. My pace doesn't show it. My pace was actually over a minute per mile slower than my last run's. The crazy squiggly lines at the beginning of my run are the only evidence of the ire in my heart. I thought a lot about the cowardly act as I ran this way and that. Then, when I got back to near where I'd begun, an idea struck me. I would run to honor the fallen. The end result can be seen in my GPS map. The mess of angry zigzagging now resembles the smoke from the bombing.

God bless those who have lost loved ones, those who have lost limbs, those who are traumatized. God help those who carried out the bombing.

Exploited towers...

What's the first thing you see when you look at this picture? My guess is you saw a plane about to hit a building. That's not what this picture is about at all. The events of 9-11-01 made you focus on the plane and not on the wire walker traipsing across the void between the two towers.

Philippe Petit, a French man, covered the distance between the north and south towers of the World Trade Center in New York City eight times on August 7, 1974. He spent 45 minutes suspended 450 meters above the ground. He finally stepped off the cable only because the police were going to bring a helicopter in to pluck him off of it. He was afraid the turbulence could dislodge him from his scanty walkway.

Philippe's feat was memorialized in the 2005 film, Man on Wire.

Forgiveness brings healing...

It is with just a little fear and trepidation that I share a bit of my story with you today. I've never shared this part of my life anywhere outside my family and a few close friends. Until recently, I'm sure I would have been terrified by the thought of posting it online. But this part of my story is about God and the healing and freedom he brings, so I can't keep it quiet any longer.

Growing up, my family moved around a lot as my dad changed jobs. I went to five elementary schools, two middle schools and two high schools. I normally found friends quickly at a new school, but when we moved from a small town in Iowa to Sacramento, California, between my seventh and eighth grade years, things were different. I don’t know what it was, but I found new relationships difficult after this move. Maybe I was overwhelmed by the big city atmosphere or maybe it was because middle school is just plain awkward. Whatever the reason, it took longer to find peers to associate with.

Into that void stepped a man who, upon coming to our church, took charge of the youth group. He voluntarily spent time with us, teaching our Sunday School class and organizing fun events. I took to this man and we became friends.  We did lots of stuff together. He came to the school from time to time and took me out to lunch at a nearby fast food restaurant.

After a few months, this man’s mom kicked him out of her house. That’s what he told us anyway. I’m not sure now whether he was telling the truth or not. To make a long story short, my parents allowed him to move into our house.

Shortly after he came under our roof, he began visiting me at night when everyone was a sleep. He would ask if he could do things that I wasn’t sure he should do, but I was afraid of losing his friendship so I went along with his requests. For a little over a year, I was sexually and emotionally abused by this man in my own home. Whenever he sensed I was getting uncomfortable with what he was doing, he would threaten to kill himself if I ever told anyone what he was doing.

Finally, one day after he had asked me if he could do something that I found repulsive, I told my mom what had been taking place. That ended the sexual abuse, but didn’t quite completely end the emotional abuse. The last thing he said to me was, “I’ll come back for you when you turn 18.” That one sentence caused me to live in fear for years.

Less than a year after the end of this relationship, we moved back to Iowa. Just after we arrived, I went to summer camp and there, for some reason, I decided it was time to tell someone outside of my family what had happened. My poor counselor was shocked and not exactly sure what to do with this kid that kept yelling angrily, over and over, “I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!”

For the next two or three years, I lived with seething anger that I kept buried in my heart. Repressing it led to depression. Fear was there too. I was 18 and I was terrified when I thought that this man might reenter my life.

During the summer between my sophomore and junior years at college, I ran across these words of Jesus in Matthew 6:14-15, “But if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” I realized I was in serious trouble with God. I had not forgiven my abuser. With the Holy Spirit’s help, I chose to do so that day. That choice was the beginning of my healing.

Over the next few years, God brought a series of people into my life, people who counseled with me and prayed with me till I was set free from my anger. I remember the day I knew I had what God wanted for me. I prayed and the burden was lifted. I was no longer angry. The chains of bitterness and hatred that had wrapped themselves around my heart were broken. I was free!

I am grateful to God for all the work he has done in my heart. I want nothing more than for each of you to find the freedom I have found in Jesus. Today, when I think of the man who molested me, I pray for him. I want nothing less than his presence with me in heaven. I pray that God will save him through faith in Jesus and set him free from his sin so that he and I can worship before God’s throne together for eternity.

The cautious return...

The day after I quit Facebook, Twitter and other social networks at God's command, I received notification from the library that a book I'd asked them to purchase had arrived. I went straight to 401 S. Jackson and picked up their freshly acquired copy of @stickyJesus. I laughed at the irony of it all. Here I was holding a copy of a book designed to help Jesus' followers serve him and live out their faith online and I had just left the world of status updates and tweets. Still, I thought it was an interesting topic, so I took it home.

Over the next several evenings and a Saturday, I read @stickyJesus from cover to cover. I was encouraged by the authors' call to missionary service in cyberspace. I was confronted by their warnings against pride and self-promotion. That was me. I wasn't online to show Jesus to the world. I was there to draw people to Mike Neifert (or openmikey, my most frequent username). I prayed a lot as I read. I confessed my sin to God.

I finished the book in a few short days. It's message sat there in my heart. I continued to pray. Then something unexpected happened. God released me to return to Facebook and Twitter. I was shocked and just a little suspicious. Was this "me" giving "me" permission or was it really God? I'm really good at rationalization. (We all are, aren't we?) I didn't rejoin the surfing throngs right away. I waited and developed a safety net. I did not want to return to my previous state of obsession. I did not want to become distracted from face-to-face relationships by their pixelated versions.

I went to Google and typed in: parental control software. I found a review of five products on ilovefreesoftware.com and chose Norton Online Family from the list. I set up my account, added a "child" named mikey, then called one of my accountability partners from Celebrate Recovery. I gave him the login information for my Norton account and asked him to monitor my internet usage.

Now, every time I log in, I am warned: "Norton Family is running on this computer and is currently supervising activity associated with this Windows account." Some of you might find that stifling. I have found it to be quite freeing. I have a "watchdog" in place to keep me away from trouble.

I am thankful to God for his leading in my life. His provision of a close friend is awesome. I am accountable to both. And now I'm accountable to you too. Feel free to ask me about my "online" life anytime you see me more frequently than it seems wise. If I'm posting frivolous stuff or self-promoting things, call me on it. I want to serve God and live righteously online. I want to show God-given self-control and wisdom.

Lying is lying...

Perhaps you've been watching the NCAA tournament this weekend. I've watched a game or two. I love it that CBS (and it's partners) have made every game available online. That means I can catch all the action without subscribing to cable. I refuse to pay good money for rotten TV. (Update: the free stuff ends after four hours. It was too good to be true.)

So I logged on for the first time yesterday to watch Wichita State beat Gonzaga. Well, I didn't know at the time that was going to be the result. I was just going to see what happened. During a commercial break I was treated to a Coke Zero commercial or two that made excuses for making brackets and watching games during work hours. The ads made it sound like it was patriotic to cheat your boss. (It's not, by the way.)

Then today I discovered the "Boss Button" on the site. I was curious, so I clicked on it. Immediately my screen was transformed. It looked like I was working on email. This "Boss Button" is designed to make it easier to trick your boss and do what you want on his time. Ugh!

I know all of this is in jest, but as one who has struggled with keeping my focus on work during work hours I find it less than funny. Lying is lying. It should not be encouraged by anyone. I encourage all my readers to give a day's work for a day's pay.

"And whatever you do,whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." (Colassians 3:17)

A shocker?

The first number one seed falls! Gonzaga just couldn't keep the Shockers down. Enjoyed watching every minute of it! It was a good night to be in yellow! Sweet 16, baby!

The noble hero...

There have been few heroes of late who show any nobility at all. Most have no morals at all. They're self-centered, self-focused, self-absorbed men who care only for their own glory. (Ironman comes to mind. Captain America is, in my mind, the most notable exception.)

I was pleasantly surprised by the noble Bruce Wayne of The Dark Knight Rises. (Yes, I just now got around to watching it.) His choice to take a bomb away from Gotham and seemingly die for the people caused my chest to swell with admiration. That, my friends, is what being a man is all about. The fact that he survives does not in any way diminish his heroism. Thanks, Christopher Nolan, for giving us someone to look up to. Can't wait for Man of Steel!

Quitting Facebook...

A little over a week ago, I stepped away from all my social media networks. I deleted my account on dailymile, a community of athletes I’d called home since 2010. I disabled my Facebook profile and suspended my Twitter account. )I still have my Google+ account up and running, but that’s kind of a joke. I only use it to repost my blog entries. I’ve never browsed the site or looked at anyone else’s profile.)

Why did I commit cyber hari-kari? God told me to. That’s the short answer. Living for online companionship had become an idol in my life. I was spending way too much time “stalking” people without really connecting with any of them. Facebook and Twitter were distracting me when I needed to spend face-to-face time with my family. dailymile, which has no value at all to my work, would, from time to time, suck me in to its web during work hours. All together, these networks were eating away at real relationship time. I was watching stupid videos and devouring vacuous memes, not conversing with people. That’s why God commanded me to jump ship.

Please understand, I’m not saying everyone needs to leave social media sites. There are many good things about them. You can keep up with far-flung nieces and nephews. You can encourage friends who are struggling in life. You can share things that have been helpful to you with the world. Being on Facebook is for most people a good thing. It is not sinful to have a Twitter account.

For me, however, it was a control issue. I was out of control. God knew it. I knew it. It just took me awhile to admit it and take the steps God was calling me to. He’d given the command once or twice before and, I’m ashamed to confess it, I’d been unwilling to comply.

I was reminded of Paul’s words shortly after I severed ties online. "'I have the right to do anything,' you say—but not everything is beneficial. 'I have the right to do anything'—but I will not be mastered by anything." (1 Corinthians 6:12) Regaining mastery over the permissible is what this “fast” is all about. I will not return to any of these sites until God gives me the green light. That’s not going to happen until all is right in my relationship with him and with others.

If something is mastering you, if something is keeping you from an intimate connection with God and those around you, I urge you: cut the ties! Learn to love God with all your heart, mind, soul and strength. Learn to love  our neighbor as yourself. Those are the things that matter.

Slogging around town...

I woke up at 7:15. It's nice to sleep in every once in awhile. Yes, that is sleeping in! I wandered around the house getting ready to run. It took me almost 45 minutes to get out the door. I love slow mornings!

I started out with plans to run around the north side of town. I wasn't in any big hurry. I was just running, listening to music, not a care in the world. I made twists and turns as they presented themselves. I avoided unpaved surfaces since it had rained in the night and was threatening to do so again. It did spit on me a few times. Nothing more.

I felt like quitting about a mile and a half in. I was sore and tired. I couldn't get a good breath in the moist air. I almost turned back. I didn't. Instead I forced myself to run further from home. I'm glad I did. I probably got four miles more than I would have otherwise.

Nothing terribly exciting happened on this run. No near misses by cars or vicious dog encounters. I didn't even see another runner or walker. I finished up my run just past my house because I'm not good at stopping just short of a new mile. I stopped at seven and walked back to the house, then to the store to pick up a few things. By the time I was back, a few others were stirring. I hit the shower and ate breakfast. Now I'm ready for the day. (garmin data)

Welcome to the gun show...

Just before I left for my run this morning, I saw a dailymile friend's comment on yesterday's workout. He said, "Make sure the paths of your runs do not end up in the shape of any firearms. You may get banned." Well, I am a rebel. I quickly drew up a route, memorized it and shouted, "Welcome to the gun show!" as I stepped out the door to make it happen.

I was a bit sore this morning. My legs did not want to move at first. Thankfully, I had a block to walk before I got to the start of my route. That worked out some of the kinks. The rest were dissipated as I began running. With Big Daddy Weave blaring in my ears, I began tracing.

I ran up School to Pine, took a left and ran south to make my trigger. I planned to make it a bit longer, but I had to turn around when I saw a dog loose. I'm not deathly afraid of dogs, but I've learned not to startle them in the dark. They don't take kindly to such things.

I ran back up to School, turned right and ran back to Thompson which took me down to Cleveland and around to Oak to complete the trigger guard. I ran up Oak to School and back to Thompson to complete that part.

Turning around, I ran back to Oak and took it south to Highway 54. I ran across the street and took the sidewalk west to Main. There wasn't very much traffic, so I had no problem crossing the highway again and heading north on Main. I ran up to School did a little zigging and zagging to make the hammer, then ran down Cherry to add the top of the barrel. A little more twists and turns and the picture was complete.

What was left to do? Retrace the outline to make sure it looked good from outer space. That's what any Garmin artist worth his weight in electronics would do. There were no dogs on the second time around, but there was more traffic. I had to stop and walk once to let an oil tanker pass. No need to die for time's sake. I'm never in that big of a hurry.

I finished up and walked the block back home. I was really pleased with my master "piece" when I saw it uploaded. Hope you all enjoy it! (garmin data)