A Long Ride Well Done

Props to Carmen and Abby for riding the 50-mile Tour of Saints yesterday (and our neighbors Gary and Annie). We managed to beat the hottest part of the day, which was very good, but 50 miles is still 50 miles. The ride was beautiful--undulating hills and verdant, central Minnesota countryside. There were about 700 people who made either the 35-mile or the 50-mile ride and the feeling of shared accomplishment was thick in the air at the finish.

The three of us--Team Prine--worked together all morning; encouraging, drafting, pulling at the front of the line. We had a few sections of the ride where we were in the groove together and humming along like a well-oiled machine. Other sections (mostly hills) were places where we each set our own pace until we crested the hill.

When we could work together, the ride was "better." Easier, more energy, friendly banter, singing. The miles were not shorter, but covering them seemed to go more quickly. What was true in the ride also seems to be true in most of the rest of life. When we can work together toward a common goal, our way is easier.

When we paint at our house one of us cuts in and the other uses the roller. When we are doing woodworking projects, one of us builds and the other finishes. Working as a team trumps going it alone.

On my faith journey, when I try to go it alone, I tend to have a harder time than when I am connected with others who are moving in the same direction. Granted, sometimes it can be distracting waiting for others or trying to catch up. But as a general rule, together is better than alone.

Pressing on,
-Ken

A New Look at the Familiar

Last night was my first night of racing at the National Sports Center Velodrome. I have ridden a bike since I was a little kid, but nothing like last night. I have never ridden as fast on the flats (or ever felt as fast--even downhill). Over the past month and a half I completed the "Introductory Track Class" and even went to the track for a couple of open riding sessions. But lining up with about 13 other riders for the 10-lap Scratch Race was unlike anything else. That was followed up by the two-lap Chariot Race--where racers go all out for two laps (500 meters) from a standing start. The night was bike riding, but at the same time, not bike riding as I have ever known it. Although I have known how to ride a bike for decades, now I am beginning to know how to race.

Familiar, but Different.

Start with the bike. My regular road bike has 24 gears, front and rear brakes, and I can coast if I want to. My track bike (NSC #3) has one gear, no brakes, and is fixed--meaning no coasting. When the wheel is going around so are the pedals.

Next the riding surface. Most of my riding around my hometown is on country roads with the occasional rails-to-trails paved path. The National Sports Center velodrome (www.nscsports.org/cycling) is a 250 meter oval made of wood. The turns are banked at 43 degrees and the straights are banked at 15 degrees. At a certain slowness of speed (which I have not yet found), the bike will fall off of the track. The track is seven meters wide all the way around.

Finally the event. Thursday Night Lights is the NSC's summer-long series of racing nights. Anyone with a US Cycling Federation license can participate, although previous track-riding experience is a practical prerequisite. Last night's events varied in length from 500 meters (two-laps) to a 40 lap race. Other racing nights will have different events, but most for my level of rider (Cat 4/5) will be in this range. Most of my past riding has been by myself or friendly rides with friends and family. If the pace was too fast for someone in the group, we would slow the pace. If someone needed to stop and rest, we would do so. Not so last night. If the pace is too fast--get out of the way. If you want to rest--wait until the race is over. There are winners and losers and there are no "participant" ribbons.

On the way home I thought about how my night of racing relates to my work. For my day job I am a lawyer who helps my clients fulfill their discovery obligations in lawsuits and government investigations--specifically as it relates to the company's electronic information (such as, email, documents, databases). Earlier in my career as a commercial litigator, I did a lot of work with discovery--it is familiar. But as I have developed my information law practice over the past several years, I have learned that electronic information discovery is as dissimilar to my old discovery practice as track racing is to road riding.

Some aspects look familiar (the bike still has two wheels, pedals, and handlebars), but woe to the person who assumes that the similarities at one level mean that all is the same. (Imagine the surprise if you wanted to coast, only to find that your legs kept moving.) On the track and in my law practice, special skills are required to avoid a crash.

Last night's racing was pretty exciting--I will be going back. I also take great pleasure in serving my clients with the specialized knowledge and expertise that helps them to navigate a familiar looking, but different frontier. Without panic or crashing.

Pressing on,
-Ken

Spaces in the Shadow Box

Last winter I made a shadow box for my running medals and some race numbers. It was designed for encouragement and for a reminder that I had achieved some accomplishments that I might not have expected to achieve. I purposefully left three spaces in the shadow box for the three last long races that I intended to run in 2011--The Gary Bjorkland Half Marathon, the Afton Trail Run, and the Holiday Halfathon. These were either favorites (Afton and Holiday), or were races I had longed to run (Bjorkland) for years.

After last February's knee operation I expected the doctor to give me a tentative green light to run these races,. as long as I took it kind of easy. To my chagrin, the doctor's advice was that if I wanted to have much hope of keeping my knees for a couple of more years, I should not run any of these races. Or better yet, not run at all. Through the spring I have held out hope that I would heal enough to hobble through my running swan song. But this swan is silent.

So the spaces in my shadow box will remain unfilled. Empty sentinels of hopes once treasured. Silenced clarions of pre-dawn footfalls on Monticello's streets. Coming to grips with losing running has been more of a challenge than I ever thought it would be. I have probably been in a bit of a funk for a couple of months as the reality has settled like a heavy fog on a spring morning.

I wonder how Abraham felt as he looked at the Isaac-shaped space in his home? When he struggled to reconcile God's promise with his empty crib? The Bible tells us very little--just that Abraham believed God and it was credited to him as righteousness.

I wonder if the heroes of faith in Hebrews 11 felt like their shadow boxes had empty spaces--unfulfilled hopes and dreams? The Bible tells us that these folks had received promises from God, but did not see their fulfillment in this life. Did they die unhappy? Wishing for more from this life? Longing to fill the spaces in their shadow boxes? Or did they see something different. Something more. Something beyond this life that melded unfulfilled promises and everlasting hope in a perfectly reconciled reality.

The spaces in my shadow box do not need to detract from the medals and race numbers that remind me of many of my fondest running days. The spaces in my shadow box do not need to cry out that my best days are behind me. Perhaps the spaces in my shadow box would be kind enough to remind me that this life is just a small portion of existence. Whether or not there is running in the life to come, I can be assured that heaven's shadow box has no empty spaces.

Pressing On!
-Ken

A New Beginning ... of sorts

This blog was born out of realizing that when I ran, I had time to think. And the best way for me to process what I was thinking was to write. Over the years I have taken lots of time to run and think. I have even made some time to process thoughts that seemed important to me in this blog.

One of the great things about running is that you don't necessarily have to pay a lot of attention to what is going on. I could roll out of bed while it was still dark, step into my shoes, and hit the roads. It didn't take a lot of thought. It left plenty of mind capacity to mull over bigger questions, issues, and answers.

Now that my running days are over, I am turning to cycling as my exercise and competitive outlet. The orthopedist tells me that cycling will be easy enough on my knees that I may be able to put off knee replacements for a few years. But to ride outdoors, I have to pay attention. Granted, not pay attention like doing math, but pay attention enough not to get lost or run into anything. Nevertheless, I hope that before too long I will be able to think and ride at the same time. And who knows, perhaps there will be different lessons from riding the roads than there were from running the roads.

So I suppose I will need to change my tag line to "Reflections on the Integration of Cycling, Faith, and Life." Has a certain ring to it.

Pressing on!

Presidential Arrogance

The decision that President Obama announced last night regarding the schedule for troop withdrawals smacks of the arrogance of "I will just because I can." What I have gathered from listening and reading is that the President announced his preferred withdrawal schedule and scope in spite of different recommendations from his military advisers--professional soldiers who have devoted their lives and careers to military service. Maybe he will be right. But maybe the President's advisers have learned some things over the course of their military careers that should have had a greater influence on his decision.

Granted, the President is the Commander-in-Chief. He gets to make decisions such as the one he announced last night. But (no offense intended), what does this President know about waging war? He has never served and there is nothing from his known background that would lead me to think that he is in a position to make better decisions than his professional military advisers. Of course, as the President has said before, elections have consequences, and this is one of those.

Mr. Obama is not alone. The arrogance of "I will just because I can" is disgusting from the playground to the boardroom. Regulators, prosecutors, and the markets may have curbed some of the boardroom arrogance. Accountability is resurgent. But in far too many families, schools, churches, businesses, and neighborhoods, arrogance reigns.

Arrogance is ultimately debilitating because it serves to cut off the arrogant from others who may have wisdom to offer. We absolutely need strong leaders in all parts of life. But the strongest leaders recognize that there is wisdom in many counselors. And not just to have them around, but to take their advice to heart. When a leader embraces wisdom from his advisers, it means acknowledging that the leader needs wise advisers. Such self-awareness may actually be the beginning of wisdom. And wisdom defeats arrogance, in the long run, every time.