Lent Lifestyle

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I think my first attempts to fast during Lent were in college. I had known about the practice before then, but it was not a big part of my church so the idea of giving something up didn’t quite make sense. At Whitworth it was definitely part of the conversation, but female students tended to use the time as a Jesus approved diet rather than a time of sacrifice, awareness, or worship. And giving up chocolate for 40-days turned out to be a lot harder than expected. Maybe if I had prayed more for divine support.

Two years ago I sat in a Warner Pacific chapel service just before Lent, again thinking about what I could or should give up. When Stephanie shared about a community service program where participants drank only tap water for 40-days, and donated the saved funds, I immediately rejected the idea. However within a day I realized that it was a challenge I needed to try to prove that I could and to see what a real fasting experience meant.

This year I am attempting a Lenten fast again, this time from meat. Unlike my water experience two years ago, I’m not breaking fast on Sundays so it has been five days so far with no tuna, turkey, orange chicken, or turkey bacon breakfast sandwiches. Instead I’ve had more tofu this week than I had in 2013. I chose this fasting method for a few reasons. One is that I want to experience a lifestyle that I know is so prevalent in Portland. My friend Beth has been a vegetarian for years, except for the once a year burger, and Liz has often shared the virtues of being vegan (could go that far and potentially put my chai addiction in jeopardy by not drinking skim milk). Another reason is that I wanted a change that would impact decisions each day, rather than only a few minutes like giving up my snooze alarm or a television choice. Instead I remember with every planned meal that options will be a little different from normal and that I’m choosing this sacrifice to better appreciate creation. Finally, I admit that I’m curious what will happen to my taste buds and general health under this path.

My first major run with this new diet will be the Shamrock Run 15K next Sunday. It will be interesting to see if there is any different perceived energy level.

In the meanwhile, bring on the tofu!

Snow Days

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After a stressful experience a few years ago, I am terrified at the thought of driving in the snow. I can do when I have to, but the situation really does have to be desperate to get me behind the wheel. Even then my rapid pulse will be beating in my ears and my hands will not unclench from the steering wheel until the car has pulled back into a secure parking spot. So when the flakes started falling yesterday, I rushed home before the hyperventilation became too obvious.

But outside of driving, I love snow.

This afternoon I walked the mile to Target for supplies and human interaction. The entire world was quieter. The chains on passing buses were like jingle bells on a sleigh that you could hear for at least a minute before it went rattling by. Everything was beautiful, and bright, and clear. The normal intersections were empty as I strolled through, keeping warm under three layers of clothes and my hiking boots. Even the foot deep section of snow was fun as I jumped between footsteps and laughed at the wandering of those who had traveled before. On the way back the snow was falling again, with the wind blowing the flakes sideways across my path. I listened to the Frozen soundtrack and probably amused passing drivers as I jumped through snow piles in time with the music. “Here I stand in the light of day. Let the storm rage on, the cold never bothered me anyway.”

The entire day has left me thinking about my last snow day experience, over five years ago, when I made a similar journey to Target and came back with Twinkies, frozen French fries, and similar random comfort foods. This time the journey meant bread, tuna, cliff bards, a t-shirt, and a stuffed frog names Prince Charming. I remember buying and eating that large box of Twinkies, but had no temptation to repeat that experience, especially with five holiday pounds that went against my progress from the fall. It was just a reminder of who I was and how different I am today. Some nice encouragement on a little bit lonely snow day.

Doctorate on Fire

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Approximately six months ago I was sitting on a plane, flying back to Portland after my first intensive doctorate session at Azusa Pacific University. I had learned the names and faces of 18 new classmates, and the faculty and staff of the program. During the flight I kept smiling out the window; inspired by the five students who had earned their degrees that day and by the new friends who were walking this journey with me.

Hundreds of pages of reading and writing later, I’m back on a plane headed to Portland.

This second trip has been just as much an adventure as the first. Our first week was focused on a statistics review, with a rather daunting assent at the end. We were told several times that the score on the exam / test / assessment / instrument didn’t matter. And then we heard that a very low score meant a conversation about whether this was the right time and program. Safe to say there we’re a few sleepless nights with late night cramming.

The rest of that first week included presentations by each student about their initial research proposal, which was again inspiring about the variety of possible topics in higher education. It was a great catch up method and complement to many dinners and stories about who did what, survived what, questioned what, and left what freezing cold temperatures behind (all while the sun outside kept us in the 70s or 80s).

Week two meant the start of spring classes and this time I have three to juggle instead of two. I’ve already put them all into my planner with some serious fear and trembling. Each course includes a major research project, plus presentation and other assignments along the way. Once that third syllabus was handed out, I knew that coaching would take a break this year. My Strengths-Based Research course is particularly exciting as I only had one classmate. I have to develop a strength-based program or curriculum, and at this point intend to create a Learning Community course focused on strengths and service for sophomores. Although I have no idea where to start, my mind keeps spinning happily about the potential product.

One other adventure from the trip deserves mention, but first an assignment for you my reader: Google “Glendora fire January 2014”. I’ll wait…In case you don’t know, my school is in Azusa, CA and the hotel I lived at for two weeks was in Glendora, CA. Yep, that Glendora. On Thursday morning I got up early with a crazy idea to walk to Starbucks and then get a ride into class. I had a new book to read so I wasn’t paying a ton of attention to my surroundings. After a few blocks I noticed the clouds in the air and marveled that I was seeing some LA smog. And I began to feel warm, but assumed it was just the walk with a jacket and heavy bag. It was not until I noticed ashes on my sleeve that my eyes went back to the cloud and slowly followed it over to the hills beside me that were literally on fire. I was walking down Route 66, parallel to flames that would eventually burn over 1,700 acres of land and the “A” that I had hiked to with friends just a few days before (I learned later that the cross survived). Amy picked me up at Starbucks and we drove to class, directly towards the fire now and past a school that was already closed for the day. I never felt in real danger for myself, but I did regret and worry about the family photographs sitting in my hotel room (including the only good one I have of my father). I also kept wondering about and praying for the APU staff who were divided between thoughts about their homes and serving their students. I’m not positive I would have the same poise and focus they shared with us that day.

One of our instructors last week asked us to reflect on what we experienced over the past semester, including what strategies helps us survive and how we have changed. I believe my great change has been in the discovery and application of my voice. While there are still doubts that whisper almost constantly about not being good enough, pretty enough, nice enough, or smart enough, my own voice is growing louder inside my head and out of my mouth as I turn the question I often pose to students back on myself: what’s the worst that can happen?

At the end of my blog in July I included some major stars to shoot for in regards to study and graduation. Those goals are still there, and I want to add a few smaller ones beside them
-Write more: I’ll be reading and writings hundreds of paged again this semester, but I must also find time to write in places that won’t be edited with topics that require no syllabi.
-Read more: Again, I have to find time for stories to escape into and inspiring words to float upon (like the Brene Brown book I just started). The lives and words of others can be such an inspiration and deserve a few more minutes of my days.
-“No” more: I’m not exactly sure what this means yet, but my fingers crafted the phrase without me so it had to stay. I do know that there were some days this fall when the commitments I chose and those chosen for me almost left me drowning in quicksand. My lack of sleep and increasing sugar intake are evidence I can’t live that way again if I ever want to like myself in the mirror or enjoy 8 hours without guilt. Something else has to go into the garage for a while.

So that’s me. Six months in and still breathing, still believing this is the right program for me. I’m inspired and terrified and exhausted and hopeful at at the same time. And I have a paper due on Monday, so guess what I’m doing this weekend?

Will My Real Words Please Show Up?

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I’ve spent the past two hours editing papers thanks to the gracious insights of classmates and the APU writing consultant. The process involves seeing pages of red comments and marks, then accepting, adjusting, improving, or ignoring each one as the original document morphs into accordance with APA, grammatical, and syllabus expectations. It is a necessary process taking places on the desks and computer screens of college students around the country every week. The exchange of papers allows for refining as you see your original thoughts through the eyes of another, and catch the mistakes that somehow slipped through the original writing and multiple self-edits. I am grateful to have friends and classmates who will work through this learning process with me every few weeks. And after six months of the experience I have definitely improved my writing ability. It is a worthwhile system I would recommend to any student or writer. And it hurts.

This process is incredibly humbling as you release series of pages that developed out of hours and hours of research and crafting the thoughts floating around in the ether into something real, something that makes sense outside of midnight insomnia. Then the pages come back with connections that seem so brilliant or obvious inside of the red thought bubble. At least once each page, my inner-Homer Simpson cries out “Doh!” as I find a nonsensical word has slipped through or a punctuation that I should have known better, along with recommendations that make me want to go back to English 101 to discover what else I missed. Perhaps editing should be proposed to be one of the spiritual disciplines; I’ve definitely been learning about humility, patience, acceptance, gratitude, community, and perseverance through this process.

As I said, this process hurts. But it hurts in the same way that a good workout hurts: the limp back to the car is one of triumph because at least I’m upright. It hurts like my hands ache after cheering on 100 new graduates who deserve attention and honor. It hurts like the medicine that will calm the fever or cough and give restful sleep again. It hurts in a good way but it still hurts.

When I was 10 pages into the 15 page editing session, and well past the one hour mark in the process, I promised myself that after finishing the edit, I would come to this blog to write. It would be a time of reflection with minimal editing and maximum release as the words would be allowed to just be and APA would be ignored as much as possible. Tomorrow afternoon I’ll return to my papers to read through them once more before releasing them again; this time to be graded. I’ll look through the combination of original words and the medicinal gifts of my friends to confirm that somewhere between is my thesis coming through.

My exegesis professor once explained that the Bible as was written through divine inspiration, so that the intent of God and the unique style of the author were retained in the final product. I wonder if Paul ever got back one of his letters with red slashes on the papyrus. I’m pretty sure Peter would have had a fit about any critical comments while Matthew would be on draft number 10 before sharing it with his Teacher. Someone should write a book about learning styles according to the apostles. I’m happy to be one of your editors. = )

From Keep on Running, by Phil Hewitt

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“For this one day, we had converged from around the world; we had attached our microchips and we had pinned on our numbers. We had gone through our pre-race rituals, and then we had stood together at the start, perfect strangers to each other and yet brothers (plus a few sisters) in the maddest feat of endurance known to common man.

With our different-coloured vests, our different hopes, our different worries, we had set off as one. With our different gaits, some super-smooth and slick, other straggly and inelegant, we had surged forward, stretching slowly in the next few hours to cover mile upon mile of Mallorcan road as sweaty humanity pushed itself to the limit. And that was the joy; I realise it now. Not to do well, but simply to be part of it.”

I’ve been slowly reading this book over the past few months, alongside homework assignments and random entertainment magazines. I wanted to share this one quote from near the end, but there were several more than resonated with what I often attempt to say and explain about running. Now if I could just be this philosophical and global around mile 20 of a marathon.

The Bi-Polar Marathon

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Before my first marathon, I created a list of five goals:
1. Don’t die.
2. Finish.
3. Run the entire race (except for water stations).
4. Finish in 6 hours or less (the winner would finish around 2.5 hours).
5. Recover enough to attend Kaity’s baby shower.

When I finished the race over 6 hours, I managed to achieve 4 out of the 5 goals and hobbled away satisfied at my 80% success with hopes to improve my time the next go around (which if you read my blog about Newport didn’t happen).

Skip forward to Summer 2013 which included an injury that kept me from running for over a month and the start of a doctoral program that turned everything else sideways. My longest run during the summer should have been 20 miles, but instead it was just 8 miles. So goals shifted as I planned for the Portland Marathon this October. For months I said out loud, mostly to myself: time doesn’t matter, just finish.

I once again started the race with a set of goals:
1. Finish.
2. Don’t hurt myself.
3. Have fun.

Luckily I’d learned a few things over the past year that made for a good start. Last year I arrived downtown two hours before the start, which was freaky since it was super dark and the volunteers weren’t even there yet. So this year I went for a later bus and arrived 30 minutes before the start, and was in my corral with plenty of time to spare. I also bought a cheap shirt at Fred Meyer the day before so if it was chilly I could toss it at the start without regrets. It was warm enough I was fine in my t-shirt and shorts as I waited to go so I still have that spare shirt for next time. Now next year I need to be smart enough to take pretzels with me (only gummy bears on the course made for an unhappy stomach by mile 20) and that if I take Advil with me, they need to be in a plastic bag rather than in my mesh fanny pack (a definite “duh” moment as I found white mush all over my cell phone).

Somewhere in those first few miles I remembered my 3 goals and focused on them as permission to walk when I needed, to take photos if I wanted, and to not focus on time (though that 6 hour idea was there in my extra-stretchy goals). I ran along streets I’d travelled many times on Saturday and Sunday mornings and realized, I think for the first time, that my goals for the previous year didn’t include having fun. All of my goals were tangible and valuable, but none of them just focused on the hundred moments of a long run. This realization shaped the rest of my Sunday morning as I tried to high-five cute kids, as I charged up and down St. John’s Bridge, as I accepted the gift of walking in NE Portland, and as I said thank you to those who shouted my name (last year I kind of hated those kind people by the end because of the distraction; this year they were angels and the pit crew I needed). I was shocked that I hadn’t sought fun the year before and hoped I would not make the same mistake again.

Oh, and I managed to finish the race in 5:36.38 which was fun icing on a fun cake.

Now when you are running and/or walking for over five hours, you have lots of time to think, so my mind wandered in a lot of different directions, including to a group of my students who were grieving.

I learned Saturday night that one of my advisees died unexpectedly Thursday in his sleep. I didn’t get full details until Monday, but I knew already that I would be visiting that group on Monday night and had no idea what I would say. There are never good enough words in times of loss and I had no intention of trying to be good enough or holy in that space. Instead I knew I had to be honest; I had to just admit the loss and remind them of the resources available to them (myself, the school counselor, their churches, their families, etc).

So amid the joy of Sunday morning were moments of prayer and grief as I missed a good man and thought of his family. And there was worship for the beauty of the day, the community of runners and volunteers, and the ability to run (which I was worried I lost during that summer injury).

With the experience just a few days behind me, I’m still trying to understand how such joy and sorrow combined into a good day. I’m not sure how, but it did. It was a day dedicated to joy and to loss, to Portland and to David, to the future and to remembrance.

Being a Doctoral Student

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When I decided to return to school for my doctorate, I spent a lot of time researching programs and schools. I emailed my former schools, co-workers, and event posted on a few Facebook groups asking for suggestions. With Master’s Degrees in Higher Education, and Biblical and Theological Studies, I first had to decide on content. I originally wanted to continue towards a Theology degree, but major barriers about location, language, and definitions of vocational ministry stood in the way. So I reflected on where I could see my long-term career: in a college, at a church, or with a non-profit. My theory is that a church would be satisfied with a seminary degree, and most non-profits care more about experience and skills than letters behind the name. Which meant that the only doors that I needed more education to open were those working in education. So after a month of weekends spent emailing, reading websites, and talking with a nice woman about England (had to try that one on for size), I focused in on Azusa Pacific University. It had a solid reputation, a curriculum that interested me, and several individuals I trusted spoke highly of their faculty.

All of that research looked into the schools, the degrees, and the anticipated outcomes of a doctoral program. None of that research considered what it meant to actually be a doctoral student. Now that I am over two months into this experience, I wanted to share just a few of the things I’ve learned outside of the lectures and articles.

“I’m a doctoral student” – At first I was worried that my head would get a bit big about this grand new important part of my journey. I promised that I would not require others to call me Dr. DuMez in the future (except for my mother and Jim Dorris, who both earned the requirement). But instead of this label being one that has my head up in the clouds, instead I’ve used this phrase more to apologize to my fish for not cleaning his water, to friends for missing a movie or dinner, or to myself when I’m up late writing, surrounded by 40 articles on authentic leadership. It has been an unexpected blessing to connect with my students over shared experiences with my cohort and to dream bigger than an excel sheet project, and an unexpected battle to find time to wash my dishes (don’t even ask about vacuuming).

Homework can be fun and immediately applicable. – I don’t think this is completely new information for me, especially after working in adult education for five years, but its definitely something I forgot after my final two years of seminary were consumed by surviving Greek then Hebrew. My next assignment is focused on service learning, and after reading about 30 articles, there are still more I want to read in the future. I find my mind wandering to how we could improve WPC’s Common Day of Service or how to develop community partnerships by simply asking what someone would do with 10 college students and 100 hours of labor.

Holding on is just as important as letting go. – Last Thursday night I was in Vancouver and planning to head for the gym then home for a paper that still needed so much work. It had been a rough week with not enough homework time and too much drama. As I left a quick but good cohort visit, I realized that more than a few extra hours of homework, I needed to go to Home Community that night to be with friends. To succeed in this program, I’ve given up teaching, am keeping closer track of work hours, and will probably have to let go of coaching this spring. But I am holding onto (desperately at times) my Home Community on Thursday nights, running on Saturday and Sunday mornings, and my goal of weighing 150 pounds by June 12th. Managing this balance is better some weeks than others, but I have to try so that when I finish this degree, I have people to celebrate with and the ability to wear an awesome little black dress.

I’m a nerd. – Again, not totally new knowledge but definitely confirmed as I submit papers to the writing consultant every other week and ask one of WPC’s vice presidents for recommended readings.

Cohorts rock! – I’ve experienced cohorts from the outside for years, and seen the support system they can be or the damage they can cause. I wasn’t sure what it would be like to live one out from the inside, especially with classmates from around the country. It is amazing how quickly you can become friends with strangers, and how much you cling to one another through the joys and struggles of work, homework, family, friends, balance, time, and APA. I have learned just as much from these 18 individuals as I have from all the stacks of articles that are scattered on my living room floor.

Speaking of APA, I haven’t figured it out yet but at some point I will understand: while vs. although, which vs. that, when to use “by”, how to avoid “of” at the end of prepositions, colloquialisms, passive sentences, and how to get a few less “Awkward”s from Kristy.

At this point, my view of life as a doctoral student matches well with my experience in Hood to Coast, which makes sense as I often compare running and education: it’s worth it.

What do you think I’m going to write about?

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I have a reminder set up to write in this blog every few weeks; an idea based out of too many unfinished diaries and journals in the past. For the past two weeks, the reminder has popped up each morning and every time I said “I know, I know. But I have homework tonight.”

Well I have homework today too, but I’ve read so many authentic leadership articles today and need to do something, anything else for a while.

And really I knew exactly what I wanted / needed to write about: Hood to Coast.

First up: context (aka, how did I get on a team). This story starts a few years ago when I watched Hood to Coast (the movie) downtown as part of my birthday celebration with Beth and Coralie. The relay race looked like an amazing adventure and one I wanted to sign up right away, which was difficult since I didn’t have a team and sign ups were in October. Oh, and this run is so popular that only about 50% of teams actually get in. Skip forward to this summer…I started using the stair master at the gym to get some variety in my workouts and hopefully kick-start those last 25 pounds (the official goal is June 12, 2014). I would watch an episode of Go On on my iPad, survive 24 minutes on the machine, then walk on the treadmill as my heart rate came back towards normal. I’d been following this routine for about a week when I started feeling some pain in my left leg; not bad pain, more like a pulled muscle that I was sure would recover if took it back a notch. That Sunday, during a normal 8 mile run with Portland Running Company, my leg pain forced me to start walking and eventually to start limping. Four days later I was still in pain, and actually at the doctor’s office to see if I had fractured something. Thanks to a very deep / bruise creating massage, lots of Advil, and break from running for a few weeks, I was slowly on the mend. It was in the midst of this injury and recovery that I traveled to California for my first two-week intensive at Asuza Pacific University. I was in the gorgeous California sunshine, and barely able to run 3 miles even with Advil running through my bloodstream. Not fun.

Okay, now I need to rewind just a bit to April. I was in training for the Newport Marathon (which is a whole other adventure I’ve already shared about). I was registered for the Race for the Roses 10K, but needed at least 15 miles that day per my training schedule, so I decided to switch to the half marathon so there would be more water stations and support during the majority of my mileage. I started off the run with the 2:30 pacer so I wouldn’t have to obsess over my watch, and because I was feeling a bit more extroverted than normal for that early in the morning, said hello to fellow-pace follower, Liz. After chatting off and on for 13.1 miles, Liz and I swapped names and became connected through Facebook.

Back to California…I’m recovering from injury, I’m poorly trained, and I’m starting a doctoral program that will be the focal point of all free time for the next 4+ years. As I’m working on homework one night, I spot a message from Liz about a potential opening on a Hood to Coast team. After about 10 seconds acknowledging the reasons I shouldn’t sign up, I write back. Pick me! Pick me! The opening on the other team fell through but an even better opportunity came up as someone from Liz’s van was injured.

After sending in my email confirmation, I asked what leg I would be running: Leg 6, which Portland Running Company nicknamed “Up is the New Down.” My three sections would end up 17.35 miles total, with the middle section starting around 11pm in a hilly neighborhood with lots of turns and no music(um…pretty sure I broke that rule).

My alarm went off at 2:30am on Friday, August 23rd, and I with just 2.5 hours of sleep, our van headed for Timberline Lodge and the beginning of an adventure. It’s hard to explain this relay event, so I would just encourage you to watch the documentary some time, or take me out for chai as I try to explain it with lots of hand motions. As Leg 6, each time I finished a section, our van got to have a longer break and sometimes a nap before any of us had to run again.

There are a few things that I learned during the run that stand out this afternoon. First: per Alli, if you need to cuss while you are running, make sure you cuss in front of children so its worth it. Before her final leg, which included a mountain, we updated the policy to cuss at children rather than simply in front of. Since there were no children during that section, she kept a huge smile on her face instead and just rocked that run. Second: I helped Richelle to “activate” an iPod before her second run. When a song titled Activate came on my own shuffle sequence later that day, I almost fell down laughing. Third: when you have run 17.35 miles and slept 6.5 hours in two days, sitting on a couch with pretzels and The Social Network is the greatest celebration ever. Most of my team headed home or stayed at the official celebration Saturday night, but I was so happy curled up on the couch and then slept for 9 hours on the floor. So tired but not too sore the next day.

Last but not least (at least for now): it was worth it. Hood to Coast was worth the exhaustion, the porta potties, the hills, the heat, the cost, the sore muscles, the homework stress, etc. My teammates were a wonderful eclectic group of women who cheered each other on each and every leg, and were highly organized to boot. This is one of the major reasons I love running: I would have never met Leanne, Liz, Richelle, Shelly, Alli, or Chris without Race for the Roses and Hood to Coast.

And Liz, if you’re reading this…I would totally run Leg 5. I want to conquer that mountain.

Strengths

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I’m lying on my hotel bed, beside an article I should be reading (and will be soon, I swear), but all I want to do right now is process on paper some of the things floating around in my head.  And that’s a good thing because at the start of a doctoral program, there are many pages, words, and blank spaces needed filling ahead of me.  Cohort 2013 at Azusa Pacific University received our first syllabus today, and it was almost comical how the room immediately went quiet.  Like so many of my students back at Warner Pacific, I immediately flipped to the section on assignments to see what was coming my way in the coming months.  Once the four projects, and their basic descriptions were skimmed, the professor’s voice became understandable again (versus the temporary Charlie Brown effect) and the room regain floor, walls and ceiling.  This seemed do-able once again.  And even better, two of the assignments looked exciting enough that my brain started wondering when I could dive in.  The other two…well, they’ll be fine. = )

A significant focus of Azusa Pacific’s program is on developing ourselves and our students through the understanding of our strengths, specifically those discovered through the Strengths-Quest assessment tool.  Part of my personality is to seek unique opportunities for myself and to appreciate and want to honor the unique qualities in others, so a learning I will definitely be going through (and look forward to) is understanding how the labels of these strengths fits into my own valuing of the story and context to the individual.  I hate the idea of putting someone into a box almost as much as I hate being put in one.  We are all so much more than one survey result.  And yet I know that this particular tool is being used to help advisors, administrators, professors, students, etc. better communicate and collaborate in colleges around the country.  How do having five simple words share the story of someone’s true self?  This is not a significant paradox but it is one that I embrace the opportunity to wrestle through.

My words are Achiever, Belief, Developer, Individualization and Strategic.  So far the way I understand them and can best explain them is through story…I believe everyone could earn a college degree.  If they put in the time, have the support, and believe it is worth the sacrifice, I have that core belief in my fellow men and women.  That graduation stage is like the finishing line of a marathon.  Every person in the race must put their own foot down for it to count, but they can run, walk, skip or crawl if they have to and it will count.  And if everyone succeeds / graduates / finishes, that in no way diminishes from the journey of the others. In fact, each person can support another through their words, their compassion and their random acts of kindness along the way.  It is the responsibility of the individual to finish their degree, and it will be their success when it is done, but the entire community can struggle and celebrate with them along the way.  (okay, my story needs work but the article beside me needs reading more so I’ll have to play with this more another day).