Favre-palooza

Well, since the whole of the national sports media has been "All Favre, all the time" since Brett Favre's game winning touchdown pass in yesterday's Vikings/49er game, I thought I would join the parade. And so, allow me to share my personal favorite Brett Favre moment.

It was the 2003 NFC Divisional playoff game between Favre's Packers and the Philadelphia Eagles. A very exciting game had led to overtime. The Eagles won the toss and elected to receive, but after a 3 and out, the ball, and thus, the game, was in Brett Favre's hand. On the first play of the series, Favre dropped back, looked down the field, and gave the ball a mighty heave. It soared majestically down the field, until it came down, into the waiting arms of... Eagles safety Brian Dawkins - with no Packer within 20 yards of him and the ball. Dawkins ran the ball back 35 yards to the Packer 35, the Eagles drove 20 more yards and then kicked the game winning field goal to advance to the NFC title game.

If you remember that game, or are aware of my affinity for Philadelphia sports teams, you probably saw that coming. I bring it up for two reasons: First, because it really is a fun memory, and second, because I've been wondering for the last 24 hours plus when exactly it was that the media at large lost all sense of perspective on Favre.

Now, I am not a Favre-hater. In fact, there was a period in Favre's career where I would probably have ranked him as one of my favorite players that didn't play for my favorite team. I get why people liked him. He was an immense talent, had a seemingly very "every man", down to earth demeanor, and he played the game with passion and with a gunslinger's mentality that everyone who has dreamed of NFL glory while playing in a pick up game in the backyard can relate to. He was an excellent quarterback, one of the absolute best in the game in his prime, and enjoyed a good deal of success. He merited attention.

At some point, however, this thing got way out of control. I'd love to blame the president of the media's Favre fanboy club, John Madden, but he was only the most obvious culprit. At some point Favre almost became bigger than the game, and his flaws as a player (which certainly existed) were routinely whitewashed while his successes were overemphasized. The story I started with is a perfect example - in addition to making a lot of incredibly positive game-changing plays, it wasn't that uncommon for him to hurt his team's chances with an unnecessary risk or poor decision. That was the downside of having his talent and his mentality - he always believed he could make a throw. There's a reason he's the NFL's all-time leader in touchdown passes, and also interceptions. He did cutdown on the latter in his prime, but not at all entirely.

At this point in his career, and after all the years of "will he/won't he" around his retirement status, Favre is still being assigned a place in the game, that, in my opinion, he doesn't deserve and never really did. The man was great, in all but the strictest definitions of the term, but let's not get crazy. He played a substantial portion of his career alongside 3 quarterbacks who I wouldn't hestitate to rank ahead of him in the NFL pantheonon of greatness in Elway, Brady, and Peyton Manning, and alongside several others (Young, Aikman quickly come to mind) who certainly are in the same neighborhood as he. At present, he has to show for his efforts exactly one Super Bowl win, ranking him alongside such lumanaries of the game as Trent Dilfer and Brad Johnson, and one loss to Elway. He also has, alongside those, a few catastrophic meltdowns like the one I opened this thread with that sent his teams to the golf course.

And yet, one game-winning TD pass, in the 3rd game of the season, and it's wall to wall Brett-mania on ESPN. Almost completely lost in the euphoria has been the fact that Favre's pass would have been for naught had the less than Pro Bowl caliber wideout Greg Lewis not made one of the better catches you'll ever see in the very back of the end zone. In fact (and I chastise people all the time for building arguments around "if" statements that really can't be proven wrong, so I apologize for this), I'm guessing that if all but 2 other active quarterbacks (Brady and P. Manning being the other) had thrown the ball, the headlines would have been talking about a game-winning catch, rather than a game winning pass. However, as a point of support, when referencing the end of last year's Super Bowl, do people more often refer to Ben Roethlisberger's winning pass, or Santonio Holmes' winning catch?

Anyhow, I wish Brett Favre the best, and he has been excellent this season by any reasonable measure. I just wish that the media would allow us all to appreciate Favre for what he is and was, without the need to hyperbolize and hero worship.

It was an accident, I swear

So, something happened to me recently - something that I very much did not plan on. In fact, as the title suggests, I would go so far as to say it happened by accident. After years and years of avoiding it like the plague, I woke up and realized that I, in fact, am leading an all-around healthy lifestyle. How could this possibly happen "by accident", you ask? Well, let me break it down for you, in chronological order of the several, mostly unconnected events.

#1 - Dramatically cutting back on soda consumption: I had, over the last several months, gotten to the point where I was consuming far more soda than I would prefer. It was easy for me to think this was not the case, because I rarely buy and keep a supply of soda at home. The issue was the trips to the vending machine at work. I was pretty much always having a soda with lunch, and quite often would have another at some point in the day. One day in early August, a co-worker made a point of saying how she could always count on seeing a Mt. Dew at my desk when she came by (she was not meaning anything by it, she's apparently the same way). That was a "Wow" moment, for one thing. Also, the vending machines at my work aren't exactly value price, and while a dollar or two every day doesn't seem like much, it adds up and I was looking at ways to save money. Also about this same time, I noticed the existance of G2 powder packets for use in a bottle of water. I've gone all water at work several times before, but I always slip up because I just need some flavor. G2 has enough flavor to keep me from running to the vending machine, has considerably less sugar, and actually has some positive health value to it, and at about 35 cents for a 500 ml bottle as opposed to 75 cents for a 12 ounce can of soda, the price is right. So, pretty quickly, I dropped from 1 or 2 sodas a day to 1, maybe 2 a week.

#2 - Actually cooking for myself more, less fast food, frozen pizza and Hot Pockets: The thing about this one is, I like to cook, and I like to eat actual cooking even more :) Ever since I've been on my own, I've gone in and out of spells where I am doing a lot of cooking. Around the same time as I cut down on soda, I decided it was time to get serious about cooking again. This was also aided by the end of church softball season, which is an all-consuming sort of thing over the summer (or at least it has been, but I don't intend for it to be again) which gave me a more regular, relaxed schedule. Cooking for myself really isn't that much of a time/effort thing. I have a (now increasing number) of recipes that I really like and that are fairly minimal in their preparation, and since it's just me, I typically only have to actually cook once every 4 days or so. It's funny, when I was a kid living at home, and my mom was doing the cooking leftovers were a drag. Now, given the alternative, having leftovers of a nice recipe for dinner is something of a treat. This one was also a cost saver as well.

#3 - Regular morning exercise - You'll recall my Half Dome story - how I talked about how out of shape I was, how I didn't make it to the top, and how I have designs on going back someday and making it all the way. Now, I personally believe that, even in the condition that I was in, knowing what I know now and actually having the internal desire to complete the hike, I could go back and make it to the top. However, I have no designs on leaving that assumption to chance. So, even though I have no formal plans at this point to head back up Half Dome any time soon, the edict was out there to get in better shape. There was also a cost issue here - I was reaching the limits of the waistlines on some of my pants, and really didn't want to lay out the cash for bigger replacements :) Anyhow, I have an elliptical and had tried to get into an exercise routine right after I got home from California, but I was doing it in the evenings and with softball, it was just difficult to get into any kind of plan. So, a few weeks after softball ended, I was trying to figure out how I was going to stay with an exercise routine. I had had a similar problem with spending daily time with God a few months ago. My solution: Get up early and do it first thing in the morning. That had worked really well, so, I bit the bullet and decided to get up an additional 30 minutes early each morning and hop on the elliptical. This had an unintended side benefit: making me much more awake and alert for my time with God! Ever since the move to the morning, I had struggled with nodding off from time to time. Not an issue after 30 minutes on the elliptical!

#4 - Better hydration, more balanced diet: Okay, the first 3 were pretty much unconnected, but this one was pretty much a case of, well, I've come this far, might as well go all the way. The hydration thing came first - I was already drinking the G2 at work, and of course I wanted to make sure I was drinking with my morning workouts. So, getting into a much better routine of taking in water during the evening just seemed to follow. And, while I was pretty sure I wouldn't have to do anything with my diet to lose weight once I started exercising, there was this sense "I'm getting up at 5:00 am to do this exercise thing, why would I want to completely work against myself when I'm eating". Now, let's be clear - I'm not "on a diet". There's nothing that I've cut out or won't eat now. I'm not counting calories, carbs, etc. Rather than trying to cut out "bad" things, my focus as been on eating more "good" things THAT I LIKE - having the morning OJ, packing carrots and fruit with my lunches, taking a granola/fiber bar along for a snack at work (heading off another vending machine expense), eating apples (honeycrisp apples MIGHT be the greatest snack ever), having more fruits and vegetables with my meals at home. So, while the intent hasn't necessarily been to eat less, cut down on calories, I'm pretty sure I have (I've been snacking less due to fuller meals), and I'm certainly eating better.

#5 - Evening walks - This was another one that kind of followed from everything else, and also from the fact that I have a dog that certainly isn't hurt by taking long walks. I wanted to get in some extra, low intensity activity in the evenings, I'd been thinking for a while that I should be walking Chaser more, and there you go. I've been trying to get at least a 15 minute walk in with Chaser for the last couple weeks, longer when there's no threat of rain.

So there it is - that's how I started living healthy "by accident". Now, I could obviously fall out of this all tomorrow, but I've been at most of this for several weeks now, and quite honestly, am really enjoying it. The end results: Losing weight (about 4 pounds since I started tracking about 2 weeks ago, and likely an additional pound or two between when I started exercising and when I started tracking), seeing my overall, day to day energy level rise dramatically (especially in situations where I'm going on less sleep than I'd prefer), and being able to play an hour and a half of flag football on Sunday afternoon without dying of exhaustion :) I can deal with that!

Reaching the top, sort of... (also, post #300!)

So, for the 300th post in the history of this blog, I shall finish out the ascending portion of my Half Dome story. I'm pleased it worked out that way, as I thought I was going to get to 300 on like the 2nd post, but then I discovered that there were a few old "draft" posts that never were posted that were included in the count that I was getting on the log in page. (And I actually started and had most of this post written almost 2 weeks ago, but a flaky internet connection prevented me from finishing and somehow it took me this long to get back to it)

So, I personally wasn't at all ready (or even that interested) in continuing up the trail to Half Dome, but I was convinced that God wanted me to continue, there really wasn't much getting around that fact, and so I started again, along with my uncle. As I started, things weren't a whole different than they had been when I had sat down before the 2 miles to go sign. I felt very weak, I was getting winded very quickly, etc, etc. And the trail was pretty steep at this point as well. I took it a very little bit at a time, stopping for a minute or two break at virtually every spot that looked convenient. I noticed that my pace would still keep me putting some distance between myself and my uncle, so I would find a place to sit, wait for him to catch up, sit with him for a bit, and then take off ahead of him.

Eventually I found I was able to go further at a time, and my routine formalized to this - I'd get some good distance between my uncle and myself, sit down, and then take off again shortly after he arrived. I repeated this several times, and then at one of the points where I sat down, I realized I had gotten far enough away that I couldn't see him behind me. I waited for a bit, intending to continue my routine. However, at some point, he must have taken a more extended break, because he didn't come for a while, and I was feeling ready to go on, so I did, basically committing to go as far as I could get on my own. At this point in the hike, I was still basically in the woods, I had really no concept of what exactly was up ahead, or what I would encounter - but eventually I came out into a more open part of the trail and headed up unto and to the left.

As I crested this hill, things flattened out somewhat, and I realized I was coming out of the woods and onto a plateau, where all of sudden I could look out over the valley and see the likes of this:

The tears were back behind my sunglasses, but for very different reasons this time. This wasn't the true end of the trail, but it was something very much worth climbing to see, and something I would have totally missed out on, had I let my own instincts prevail and given up in the middle of the woods. I stopped and paused for a few moments, and then started to head onward. There was actually an additional rise up ahead, and as I started towards it, I saw my Mom and Dad coming back down it. They met me and turned with me to head back over the rise, encouraging me that it opened up even more just ahead, and it did.

I actually think both of those pictures were probably taken from the second location, but I have to provide some sense of building the story. Anyhow, Mom and Dad also led me to the view that caused them to end their ascent:

The famous "Heartbreak Hill. You can't really see from the picture, but to us, it looked like there were people literally going straight up the lower part of that rockface, where there were still trees. In actually, this was not the case, but they were ascending stone stairs of the same ilk that we had ascended on our trek alongside Vernal Falls. And, though we couldn't see this view from there, we knew that after you got through all that, this awaited:

The last several hundred feet to the top of Half Dome takes you straight up the rock face, with just the assistance of the cables you see here. It's really hard to totally get a feel for how steep the climb is from pictures, but Tim's report was, at least in stretches, it was definitely in excess of a 45 degree climb. As I looked at the whole view, I knew, as my parents had, that getting up it was just not in the cards today, and this was where my ascent would end as well. However, as opposed to the last time I had thought my ascent over, I was very much at peace at this time. I had pressed on well beyond where everything in me had wanted to give up, and I was very much sensing I had made it as far as I was supposed to get on this day.

However, a funny thing happened while I was standing there, looking up at the summit. Remember how I said (I think several times) that part of my problem from the beginning was that I didn't really want to climb Half Dome, that I was just doing it because that's what we were doing, and that there was nothing internal pushing me to reach the top? Well, all that was changing with the end of the trail staring me in the face, albeit about 1000 feet or so up. I now WANTED to get to the top of Half Dome. In fact, as we stood/sat there, I almost got to the point of starting of again on a couple occasions, but wisdom prevailed. (I learned once we started down just how wise that was. By this time, the groin injury I had sustained going up the waterfalls was so aggravated, that any time I had to actually "step" up, it was absolutely excrutiating. I was generally okay to walk up or downhill, but it probably would have taken me all of 5 steps up Heartbreak Hill to come wincing back down) However, I told myself right then and there that where I was was fine for that day, but that I would come back someday and get to the top - and I intend to do just that.

But, like I said, this was it for that trip, so after some rest, I was ready to head back down the trail.

A crisis of the will

2 more miles?! Really? As tiny and unremarkable as that little sign was, it somehow managed to sap every last bit of fight from me. I don't think anyone else in the group was particularly thrilled to see it either. We all sat down around the edge of this open area for a break (an extended one this time), but when I personally sat down, it felt like I was doing so without any intention to get back up - at least not to continue forward. Before that sign, I was still holding out some hope of making it to the end of the hike. But with 2 miles to go, the way I was feeling now, my mind could not conceive of any possible way I could make it all the way and then still have enough to make the final ascent. If I couldn't make it all the way, then what was the point of continuing to put myself through this - especially since I never really had that much desire to do this in the first place. I mean, quiting a mile further up the trail was still quiting, right?

So there I sat, feeling pretty much completely defeated, and with nothing in my body or mind wanting to go forward. I sulked while I ate and drank - not liking the idea of being the first (and maybe only, even though the folks were openly talking about not being able to make it) one to pack it in, but not thinking my pride was worth continuing, especially since I was only postponing the inevitable. After several minutes, my folks decided to go on, but my uncle was planning to rest longer. As my parents left, it was decided that I would wait behind, and if I wanted to continue when my uncle moved on, I would, if not, I wouldn't. In my mind, I was pretty sure what was going to happen, and it was apparently pretty obvious to my parents as well.

There was only one problem - that understanding that I had had since the plane ride on the beginning of the trip that I had an appointment with God somewhere on this hike, and if it had come and gone, I had certainly been unaware. So, God and I had a bit of a chat, that I think went something like this, though in my head, not out loud :):

Me: So God, this was it, right? I'm done now, and I'll understand later where we met - or maybe we'll meet on the way down?
God: You need to go higher.
Me: Are you kidding me? I'm beaten - done. There's no way I can make it all the way, so why would I put myself through this more?
God: I want you to go higher - and I'm telling you you can go higher.
Me: Why? What could possibly be worth continuing this? Tell me where I'm supposed to go.
God: I want you to go higher - isn't that enough for you?

And that's pretty much where the conversation ended. It was obvious I wasn't going to hear what I wanted to hear, so I was left to wrestle internally with what God was asking of me. There was nothing that came from me that wanted to continue - nothing. I felt tears welling up under my sunglasses as I fought - still not sure of what I was going to do when the moment of decision came.

A few minutes later (much, much too soon by my thinking) - my uncle looked over at me and said: "Are you ready?" The answer (the real answer, not what I said), was no - I was not ready. But, my decision was made, I was going to get up anyhow, and so I did - closing my pack back up and preparing to go higher.

A momentary break, and then a turn for the worse

Shortly after passing by the Nevada Falls, the trail really flattens out for a while. There's an initial stretch past the falls that is pretty bumpy and rocky, and in fact you actually go down somewhat for a bit (again, exceedingly frustrating when you know you weren't anywhere near done going up), but overall, this is about a mile or so of the flatest stretch on the trail (at least the part of the trail that I covered). It's very peaceful, you walk by the river that feeds the falls, it's just overall a nice breather after all the climbing. One thing that is a negative about it, or at least was for us, is that it's much more open and out in the sun than most of the trail. I never really got a read on how hot it actually was up there - but it was in the high 90s down on the valley floor the other days we were in the area, so I'm pretty sure it wasn't terribly far from that range where we were hiking most of the time. Now, in that part of the world, it's very, very dry, so without the humidity, the heat is easy to escape when you are shaded, but it does really beat down on you when you're out in it.

This whole segment of the trail is also in the shadow of Half Dome - and by this time we could already see a few people on the cables heading up from the lower dome to the very top, looking like ants on the side of the big rock. We did sit down for a while near the river, and at this point I was still feeling alright, although the toll of all the climbing over the last couple hours was definitely setting in. After getting up from our rest, we made rather quick work of the flatter part of the trail and then turned up into the forest to begin ascending again.

This, unfortunately, is where the story of my ascent takes an unhappy turn. Shortly after we (at this point we was my Mom, Dad, uncle and I - Tim and Megan had pushed on ahead) had headed up into the forest, it was noted that we had missed the last "real" (and I use that term VERY loosely) bathroom on the trail. The reason we had missed it was because it wasn't actually "on" the trail, but was rather at a backpack campsite that was just off to the right of the trail before it made the turn back up into the woods. So, we went back. I'm not sure I particularly remember why I did, cause I didn't really have to go and I really didn't have worries in the event that I wound up needing to go in the woods. But back we went. I suck at estimating distances, but I'm going to guess we went back about a quarter mile or so.

I am not sure totally sure what it was, but after doing that, everything turned in the wrong direction for me. I think my parents would say the same thing. I became much more fatigued, both physically and mentally, and everything became much more of a struggle. Thinking back on what went wrong, it was probably a combination of things:

#1 - I had been very focused on keeping myself hydrated, but I don't think I paid enough attention to how much food I was taking in.

#2 - The lack of sleep from the night before was finally setting in to some degree

#3 - That trek back to the bathroom had been back in that open section that let the sun beat down, and probably didn't help.

#4 - We were getting higher, and the altitude wasn't exactly helpful

#5 - I think going back threw some psychological switch, along with all of the above.

We were climbing again, but it wasn't that bad compared to where we had come from, and yet I was really struggling now. The stops were coming more frequently, and being less helpful. For the first time, I was really doubting whether I was going to be able to do this, and the bigger problem, which I alluded to earlier, was that I had never really WANTED to do this, so it was hard to convince myself that continuing to do this to myself was going to be worth it. I kept going, thinking to myself that, while I knew it would get a lot steeper at the very end, it would probably be okay until then. Of course, then Mom asked my uncle if it got much steeper before the very end, and he said, yeah, right up around there. Great!

And it did get steeper (by the way, you'll notice I've not been posting many pictures in this part of the story - that in itself is evidence to what we were going through, because the photographers definitely weren't in the same mindset that they were earlier), and at this point I think we were all openly questioning whether we could make it - and I was questioning whether it was even worth it to try. I didn't really want to give up, especially not this soon. So, with my original dreams of the trail not getting much steeper until the very end dashed, I consoled myself by looking at the time, thinking about when we had left (I'm thinking we'd been on the trail almost 5 hours by this time), going on my rough estimates of what kind of time we should have been making, and thinking, "It can't be much further". I'm thinking, it's 8 miles to the summit, on flat ground I could do that in 2, 2 1/2 hours, so, double that for the climb, maybe minus a bit. My math led me to believe, without asking of course, that we were within the last mile of the hike.

Then of course, we came out into an open area, where I saw this:

WHAT?!

Scaling the falls

So, like I said, the first segment of the trip was really just a warmup, and the adventure didn't fully begin until we crossed over the bridge and made our turn up the Mist trail.

I need to be clear about something - I didn't go into this hike with any illusions about my capabilities. I knew going in I wasn't in peak physical condition, or anywhere close to it. One thing I was banking on, however, was the fact that I've always had pretty good endurance relative to my overall conditioning - which is to say that when I'm being smart about it, I can usually find a good solid pace that I can maintain for a long time. That was my intended tactic for the hike. The only problem is that setting a consistent pace is REALLY hard to do when the terrain keeps changing on you. As I recall, when we initially made the turn up onto the Mist trail, the hike was basically just a somewhat steeper version of what we had been doing previously. However, as we continued to trek toward the top of the lower (Vernal) falls, we encountered this:

And then this:

Followed by these:

And then... well, you get the picture. All of which provides appropriate context for this picture:

It wasn't all bad, however, as we got to do much of this in full view of this, which was the destination for this leg of the hike:

By now, perhaps you better understand my earlier comment about why you wouldn't come DOWN via the Mist trail unless you had a death wish. Those were very steep stone steps, many sections of which were quite slick due to the mist coming off of the falls. Going up them was difficult, and in fact exceeding such, but coming down them would have been absolutely treacherous. Somewhere on these steps I pulled a groin muscle - which is more significant later in the story. For this part of the climb, it was just an annoyance. But anyhow, we all finally reached the top of Vernal Falls, and took the bridge over the river to begin our ascent to the upper (Nevada) falls.

My recollection is that overall, the hike to Nevada Falls was not quite as steep and strenuous as the steps to Vernal. However, there were a few sections that left me wishing for the steps:

Really though, most of it wasn't that bad, and even that wasn't quite as treacherous as it might seem from the picture. It does, however, represent another reason not to descend via this trail. I remember being pretty pleased with how I was doing physically at this point. Don't get me wrong, it was hard, and overall, the hike was kicking my butt. We'd go for a while, I'd get tired, and the altitude left me pretty winded much of the time, but we were taking plenty of breaks, and usually just a minute or two would leave me feeling fine to go on for a while. I was feeling pretty optimistic about my chances of making it to the top.

Eventually, we made it to the top of the Nevada Falls - and the next restroom -, where we left the falls behind and made the transition to the next part of the hike.

Taking to the trail

So, apparently not even having a ton of good material to work with is enough motivation to keep me blogging regularly. Oh well, here we go again. For background, given that I'm sure you've all forgotten what I wrote 2 weeks ago, please see the last few posts!

So, anyhow, there I was, getting up at about 4:30 in the morning, having slept very, very little, and staring at the prospect of taking to the trail for the hike I laid out in my last post. I'm going to be flatly honest - I think had I not come away from my God appointment on the flight out with a sense that God had something for me on this hike, I might have forgotten the whole idea right then and there, climbed back into bed, and then settled in for a relaxing day at the house with my grandpa. The fact of the matter was that there was nothing in me that really wanted to do this (make a note, that will be important as the story progresses). Tim had gotten this wacky idea while looking at the rock from Glacier Point when he and Megan were out a couple years ago, and then Mom had latched onto it and it had become a family event. I wanted to go on this trip with the family, and this was something everyone else was going to do while we were out there, so I agreed to give it a shot. Don't get me wrong, given that I was doing it, I was hoping to make it all the way, but there was nothing internally really driving me to do it, and the lack of sleep made the whole thing seem all the less pleasant. However, I knew what I had felt God telling me, and I also knew it didn't surprise Him that I hadn't slept, so I stayed the course, did my final packing, and hopped into the van for the drive for the trailhead, or rather for the parking lot which was 3/4 of a mile from the trailhead, as I mentioned before.

So, after a quick breakfast at the van, we were off, walking our way towards the trailhead. Thankfully, this part of the trip was at least mostly flat. After you get to the trailhead itself, the first part of the trail is pretty tame. It's paved, and while you are (mostly) going up hill, it's fairly gradual, more of a rolling kind of climb. In fact, there are several segments where you actually dip back down for a while - and trust me, when you are acutely aware of the fact that you have a lot further up to go, there are few things more frustrating than heading downhill.

That part of the trail, while plenty to test the casual hiker such as myself (I'm not even sure that term captures my level of unpreparedness) - it's really just a tune up. The real adventure doesn't start until you reach the bridge that is just about a mile into the hike. A couple things are significant about this point. First of all, just past it is the first restrooms along the trail (also a place to fill up your water). Secondly, this is where you make the choice between continuing your ascent via the Muir trail or the Mist trail.

These trails diverge before coming back together at the top of the 2nd waterfall shown on the picture I posted previously of the entire hike. The Mist trail is shorter by at least a mile and a half, and conversely much steeper, but it's also more scenic, because it takes you up right beside the falls, such that you get hit with their mist when there's enough water coming over them (there was for us), which is where the trail gets its name. Traditionally hikers will ascend via the Mist trail and descend via the Muir trail, which is much longer, but much more comfortable descent. The reason for this is simple - you don't want to come down the Mist trail unless you have a death wish. I'll explain that in a bit more detail later. Anyhow, we were following the traditional path and turned up alongside the river to ascend the Mist trail, at which point the adventure truly began.

Some opening perspective

I had been debating whether to open with this, or do it after the story of the attempted climb, which is when I got my dose of perspective. For a number of reasons, I decided I'm going to lead with it.

This is what I attempted, along with the rest of my immediate family, to accomplish:

As daunting as Half Dome itself looks in the picture I posted a few blogs ago, if you could walk right up to the base of that rock and then go up it, it wouldn't really be that daunting of a task. As you can see, that's really not an option. There are, I understand some other ways to hike to it that might not be quite as daunting, but this is what people are talking about when they talk about the hike to Half Dome.

You start somewhere towards the bottom right of the picture, probably not even on it, below the lower falls. You then hike out along the water at a steady, managable climb. Eventually, however, that changes and you start climbing up right along the right side of the falls, getting a fair share of mist, on very steep rock steps that are quite slipperly. Eventually, you get up the top of the first set of falls (Vernal Falls), at which point you cross over to the left side of the water. You then hike up a path, less steep than those start, but still plenty steep, doing plenty of switching back, that takes you to the top of the second set of falls. (Nevada Falls)

After you get past the Nevada Falls, the trail flattens out for a mile (and even descends, which trust me, you HATE on a climb like this since you know you're eventually heading back up) or so as you hike along the river and back behind the smaller peak you see on the right side of the picture. This part of the hike is done in the shadow of the dome itself, and you can see people making the final ascent, if there are any at that time, which there typically will be anytime from the later part of the morning on. After that nice little reprieve, you cut left back up into the forest, climbing back around behind Half Dome itself. Eventually you come out to more of a plateau, probably connected to some of the rock you can see there behind Half Dome, where you're standing, basically looking back at the camera, looking at the "lower" dome and the final ascent to the top. You hike through some more woods, and then up a very steep incline via stone steps and all kinds of switch packs, to the top of the lower dome, known "affectionately" as Heartbreak Hill. If you get to that point, the last 400 feet or so is at a 45 (Tim says greater) straight up the rock face, with the aid of cables to hold on each side to keep your balance.

The only modification on the trip back down is that at the top of Nevada Falls, you cross over the falls and take a longer, flater, less scenic hike back out of the mountains. This is longer, but much easier on the body, and much less dangerous than going down those steep, wet stairs I referred to beside Vernal Falls.

The trailhead is at about 4000 feet above sea level, and if you complete the entire hike, you'll walk about 17 miles round trip, and ascend 4800 feet before coming back down. My trip ended, along with my mom, dad, and uncle, on the plateau I spoke of before the final push to the lower dome. Megan made it to the top of Heartbreak Hill (pictures to come) before the heights got to her, and Tim made it to the top. Additionally, in our case, we couldn't park in the lot closest to the trail head, so we wound up having to walking better than 1/2 of a mile from our car to the trailhead in full gear.

This picture was taken the day after the hike at a scenic view place called Glacier Point. As you'll see as I get to the end of my story, I wasn't feeling particularly down on myself for not making it to the top anyhow, but as I saw this view, any lingering feelings of angst about what I hadn't done were totally washed away as I realized what I HAD done.

So, there's the full extent of the challenge - feel free to refer back for context as I elaborate.

The build-up

Okay, sorry for the delay here. As I mentioned in Monday's post, I was not feeling very well. Apparently I picked up a pretty nasty head cold on the flight home that had really laid me out by Tuesday night. It wasn't until Thursday that I was really starting to feel better, and then Friday, I pretty much just slept as my body was begging me for recovery time. Yesterday I had a family wedding, and so here we are.

So, anyhow, I met my Mom and Dad in Seattle and we spent two very enjoyable, though not very restful, days in the city with my cousin who is attending Seattle Pacific University. We did many of the standard tourist things, such as visiting the Space Needle and Pike Street Market. All of these things involved much walking (finding parking is a significant issue in Seattle, at least where we were), which afforded me a good chance to better break in my hiking boots. It also tired me out really good, particularly the first day. As you may have guessed already, relaxation was not really the dominant theme of this particular vacation. I also picked up a minor foot injury that I was concerned might be an issue on the hike, but really wasn't.

So, on Sunday evening we hopped on a plane and flew to Northern California, where we were met by my aunt, uncle, and grandpa at the airport and then rode back to my uncle's to spend the night. Monday was actually a pretty laid back day, as we did some various visiting, picked up some supplies and packed up for our adventure. On Tuesday, we drove up to Yosemite, had a picnic in the park, and then headed over to our home away from home, away from home for the next couple days.

Having settled in, Mom, Dad, Megan, Tim, and I set out to do some "warm-up" hiking to see some of the easier to get to sights of Yosemite. Our first hike was maybe a mile and a half or so round trip (I suck at estimating distances, so take that for what it's worth) to the base of Yosemite Falls:
Next up was an even shorter hike (under 1/2 mile round trip) to the Bridalveil Falls.

To be completely honest, that would have been enough hiking for the trip for me. However, that was obviously not the plan, and we headed back to the house for dinner and final preparations. The plan was to be on the trail by 5:30 am, which would require leaving the house by 5, and getting up no later than 4:30. So, as I got into bed around 10:30, I was already wondering if 6 hours of sleep would be enough to take on this crazy task I was up against. As it turns out, that should have been the least of my concerns. We were staying at about 6000 feet above sea leval, and the altitude, probably coupled with the anticipation of what was to come in the morning, led to an almost sleepless night. I think I might have fallen asleep for about 30 minutes at one point, but I'm not sure, and that was absolutely the most I got. I was not the only one in the house to report the same kind of night.
So, whatever uncertainties I had had about this climb (and whether I even wanted to do it) were magnified as we rounded up everything in the van and drove down to the trailhead.

Some context

So, I get back from vacation, all rested and stuff, with extra time due to a lack of TV and shaky internet, and lots to blog about, and what happens? A day later, I feel like crap, either due to an oncoming cold or some really late allergies. Oh, well, I shall try to press on!

I will get to the climb itself in due time, however, in order for some of it to make sense, you need context. The context comes in the story of, of all things, my plane trip to the West Coast. On the way out, I flew from Harrisburg to Detroit, on my way to Seattle. One of the reasons I haven't had nearly as much to blog about recently is because my reading has tailed way off. That means there's a number of books out there that I've either been interested in or had recommended to me that I haven't read yet. One of these was The Shack by Wm. Paul Young. Since the cover informs me there were at least 5 million copies of the book printed before mine, I'm going to assume that a large percentage of people who might read this have read the book. I had not, though I had heard of it many times, particularly from several folks whose opinions I value, and it was definitely on my radar.

Prior to this trip, I did not own the book. And I had brought plenty of other reading material with me for the plane trip, especially when you consider that I don't really usually read on planes anyhow. But anyhow, when I got to the Detroit airport, I had a long walk ahead of me. As I headed down to my gate, I saw a Borders coming up in front of me. Not particularly sure why, but I found myself wondering if they had The Shack in this little airport store, thinking that after I had found my gate and had something to eat, I’d come back and look. I didn’t have to “look”, because as I walked by the store and glanced into the store, the book was out on the front display, prominently featured. Now, I’ll gladly admit that could have been coincidental – the book is a bestseller after all. However, I will note at this point that I passed a number of airport bookstores on the way back and peeked in out of curiosity, and didn’t see any with this particular book at the front of the store. Take that for what it’s worth, it’s only mildly relevant to what came next.

Anyhow, coincidence or tap on the shoulder from God, I decided I’d go back and get the book after I’d indulged in some dinner at the airport Taco Bell. And that is what I did. The end result was that my flight from Detroit to Seattle was basically a 5 hour appointment with God. It’s funny, with my slowed pace of reading, my volume of books read is way down, but the few books I have read have been incredible, and it was clear to me that I had read them when I was supposed to read them and not a moment before. This was especially true in this case. Had I read the book shortly after the first time it was recommended to me (probably about a year and a half ago at this point), I’m sure I would have enjoyed it and seen it as an excellent book. In this moment, God was using it to speak to right where I was at, confirming a number of things I’d already sensed Him saying to me over the last several weeks, and also taking me further and making them more personal.

I wrote down a good bit about that experience and the book the next morning, and I’ll likely share some more of that later on, but at this point, to make a long story slightly shorter, I’ll just share the two most relevant pieces I came away from that plane fight with. First of all, God was asking me if I really trusted Him, if I trusted His goodness and His design for my life. The second thing I came away with was that I had another appointment with Him ahead of me on that trip, and it would be somewhere on the trail to Half Dome. Color me intrigued…

More to come, now I must go to bed.

The Climb

Last night I returned from an 8 day vacation to the West Coast. Last Friday night, I flew out to Seattle, where I met up with my parents and spent Saturday and most of Sunday with my cousin who is in college at Seattle Pacific and staying in the area over the summer. After that, we hopped on a plane together and flew to northern California to meet up with my sister, brother-in-law, and grandfather to spend the week with my aunt and uncle and their clan (two grown children, both married, with 9 kids between them). The centerpiece event of the trip was a family (mother, father, sister, brother-in-law, uncle, me) expedition to climb this:


For those who may not recognize this by sight, this is Half Dome in Yosemite National Park. And to be more accurate, the expedition was to hike around behind this big rock and then up the backside of it. (No, I've not gone completely insane and taken up free rock-climbing) Once I lay hold of some of the trip pictures (my mother and brother-in-law are both shutterbugs, so while I had my camera with me, it seemed excessive to use it), I'll be able to give you a better sense of what we actually set out to do, but for now, you get this stock photo of the Dome I found on the internet. And no, there wasn't any snow to be found on it last Wednesday, though it is surrounded by a number of higher peaks that remain snowcapped.

I'll go ahead and end the suspense for you now by telling you that I did not make it to the top on this particular journey. Of our party, only my brother-in-law actually did, which was fitting since he was the one who wanted to do this in the first place. However, that does not mean there wasn't a great adventure had, and much to be learned, all within the context of a wonderful and much needed vacation. Over the next several days, I intend to chronicle many of the raw details of the trip and the climb, as well as my reflections. So, if you care, stay tuned :-) After a long dry spell, I've finally got some solid material to work with for a while. I also have extra time on my hands, as my satellite TV receiver died right before the vacation, and I'll likely not get the replacement until later this week. Of course, my internet connection has also gone kind of flaky (I'm currently in the longest stable window I've had with it since I got back, which is why I'm finishing this now rather than risk not being able to do it tomorrow) and may not be fully fixed until mid-week either, but I'll do my best!

When was the last time you glowed?

That question was posed to me by my mentor as we met a few weeks ago. Well, to be fully accurate, he was telling me about how he posed the question to someone else, but that’s really not the point.

The question draws back to the story of Moses and the Israelites in the desert. In those days, Moses would go off to the mountain to meet with God, in a manner that I don’t know to have been duplicated anywhere else in Scripture. When he returned to the camp, God’s glory reflected off him to such a degree that we’re told he quite literally glowed, to the point where he had to wear a veil, because the people became afraid of him.

The implication of the question is clear – the presence of God is transformational. It makes a difference – one that people can see. So when was the last time you, or when was the last time I, were so impacted by experiencing God’s presence that people noticed?

Since achieving an actual physical glow seems to be reserved for a very select few (Moses is the only one in Scripture I can think off the top of my head), perhaps we might do well to look at a Biblical example that has more practical application – something we could realistically expect to happen. Fast forward a few thousand years from Moses to the earliest days of the church. Peter and John were called before the Sanhedrin and required to defend themselves for, of all things, performing a miraculous healing. After they had spoken, we’re told of the Sanhedrin’s reaction: “When they saw the courage of Peter and John and realized that they were unschooled, ordinary men, they were astonished and they took note that these men had been with Jesus.” Peter and John’s faces might not have literally been lit up like Moses’, but it’s clear – they glowed. There was something about them in that place was so evidently different, so beyond what would have been expected from a couple of former fisherman, that even their accusers took note of the effect Jesus’ presence had had on them.

You know what I’m talking about here, because I’m sure you’ve seen it before. New believers glow – especially those who have come to know Christ out tragic or ugly circumstances. That initial influence of the presence of God in someone’s life makes such a profound difference, someone would have to be blind not to see it, even if they couldn’t necessarily figure out what the change was at a glance. If you’re like me, you’ve probably been jealous of that “new believer glow” at times, and of the genuine passion and enthusiasm that typically marks it.

Unfortunately, however, that glow often fades over time. It may happen more quickly for some then others, but it happens. We settle into every day life, to our jobs, our routines. We settle into a church culture that, at least to a large extent, focuses more on how much we know about God than on how well we know Him, and that is built more around doing God-centered things than on actually experiencing relationship with Him. And it some ways, that’s only natural – those things are much easier to get our human minds around.

Being natural, however, does not make something correct. The idea that the “glow” is primarily only a new believer thing is a lie that I’m sure our enemy loves when we buy into. The truth is this: It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been following Christ, what state your life is in, what your bumps and bruises are, or how many of them there: the presence of Christ is every bit as transformational for you now as it’s ever been.

I’m becoming convinced that everything I really needed to know about following Christ I learned from a Steven Curtis Chapman song, and just missed the bigger picture on until recently, because every time I have one of these big realizations, it’s not too long before a lyric that I haven’t heard in months and even years starts running through my head. In this case, a few days ago, the words from a verse of a song called “Live Out Loud” found their way into my inner iPod:
“And if we have been filled with livinghope, we're gonna overflow And if God's love is burning in ourhearts, we're gonna glow There's just no way to keep it in “

I’ve probably heard/sung along with those words literally hundreds of times in my life, and until earlier this week, one of two things always happened. The first, which probably was what happened most, was to just like the catchy lyric and beat and not give it much thought. The rest of the time, I put some thought into it, recognized the truth of the lyric, and focused on what I should be doing to “overflow” and “glow”.

The fact of the matter is that I was focusing on treating the symptoms rather than on curing the disease, as it were. I’m guessing SCC wasn’t consciously focused on the logical constructs of his lyric (then again, how would I know?), but the reality is that these are causes and effects. If God’s love is burning in my heart, then I WILL glow. So, the solution to the absence of a glow is not trying to force a glow, but to press in to God, seek His face and His presence, and make sure that His love is, in fact, burning in my heart – allowing that glow to natural shine from within me. There’s nothing wrong with treating symptoms – in fact, sometimes without treating the symptoms, you’ll never have a chance to cure the disease. The problem is when treating the symptoms gets in the way of curing the disease, or even worse, when we start to believe treating the symptoms IS curing the disease.

I’ve become very aware lately of the extent to which I settle for a saving knowledge of Christ rather than a transformational relationship with Him. It’s not that the former is a bad thing, it’s just that the latter is so much better – so much more. That’s really how I look at much of the Christian life – as a choice between good, better, and best, as opposed to simple right and wrong - though trust me, there are plenty of those choices out there too.

I refuse to believe that the glow that Moses, Peter, John, and others experienced is reserved only for a chosen few. Finding that glow, I believe is a choice. It's not, however, a choice to put on a forced glow, one which, by the way, most everyone can see through. Instead, it’s a choice to make seeking and experiencing the presence of God in my life my first priority. Am I always successful? Probably not – but that’s not a reason not to seek after a God who makes it very clear that if we seek after Him, we will find Him. Seeking after the presence of God in my life is a daily choice – and one that can’t just be an act of simple discipline, but instead has to be driven by an inner understand and belief that this is what I need. It’s about saying to God “Here I am. What do you have for me today?”

I can think of nothing else I’d rather have said about me when I’m done on this earth than that I was just an ordinary person, but you could tell I had been with Jesus. So simple, so profound, so powerful. It is the cry of my heart to glow – to allow the presence of Christ to so fundamentally transform my life, that without even thinking about it, I radiate His glory to those around me.

I can't fix it...

I can't fix it... no matter how much I want to, no matter how obvious it is to me, no matter how much it breaks my heart or causes me to pound my head against the wall in frustration.

I can't fix it... no matter how much I try, no matter what limits of myself I press to, no matter what amount of energy I expend.

I can't fix it... no matter how much they want it fixed, no matter how much they turn to me, no matter what they expect from me.

I can't fix it... and when I try, when I let myself believe that I can, I always wind up here - disappointed, frustrated, defeated, and angry at me and them.

I can't fix it... and really, why would I think I could? I can't even fix me.

I can't fix it... but there is One who can.

I can't fix it... and even knowing that, I can't make them go to Him - I can only point tp Him.

I can't fix it... but I can walk along side them until they make the choice to take it to Him.

I can't fix it... but I can take their hand and stand with them as they make the journey.

I can't fix it... so I have to let go, to put MY trust in the very One who I am asking them to trust.

At long last...

Well, after almost exactly two weeks, I finally have a functional heating/cooling system again, as of yesterday afternoon. And just in time too, as this weekend looks like our first extended stretch of hot/humid weather.

They finally got the additional parts I needed and were out yesterday afternoon to fix the furnace blower. I have a service contract on my furnace, so I won't actually be charged anything additional, but they did fill out and give me a copy of the bill - $1300+. Let's just say I'm making out like a bandit on that service contract at this point. At current reates, I could keep the service contract in place for about another 9-10 years, not need any additional work done, and still be money ahead. In fact, the repairman said that they are thinking about changing their contracts to put a limit on the amount they'll cover in fixing a blower motor (mine is a little more complicated than a standard blower system apparently) specifically because they saw how much my parts were. Oh well, I'm not paying this time, and I would say that if the motor blows up again any time soon, it'll be time to replace the entire unit.

Vintage Grape Juice

This happened yesterday, and I was going to post about it yesterday, but I felt like 3 posts in one day after a month of silence was both a bit gratuitous, and would also set a standard that I could possibly hope to come close to ever again. And so, here we are.

Anyhow, I was putting away some dishes yesterday, and I wound up opening a kitchen cabinet that is probably the one I open least frequently. Don't get me wrong, it's not some deep abyss, I probably go into it at least once every month or so. However, there's not much up there that I regularly use. Anyhow, this time, for whatever reason, something caught my attention that I felt was worth investigating. It was an unopened bottle of Giant brand grape juice that made me wonder: "Hmmmm, how long has THAT been in there?" I really didn't know, but I was sure it was a pretty darn long time.

So, I pull the thing out and take a look at the cap. "Sell by: 9/22/04" Whoa. Now, by itself, that might not be the biggest story ever. I'm sure many folks have things that time forgot buried deep in their cupboards. The catch in this case - I've only lived in this house since May 2005.

That's right, when I moved, I brought along a bottle of grape juice that was 7 months expired, and now have kept it for an additional 4 years! Tonight when I got home, I grabbed it and actually opened the thing just to take a whiff, because, well, aren't you almost obligated to do that in such a situation? It still hasn't made it to the dumpster yet, and we'll see just how long that takes.

My heating/cooling saga

Now that I'm in the blogging mood, I might as well tell this story...

My A/C is currently not functional. Well, that's not really true. The A/C is working just fine. In fact, so is the actually heating unit in the furnace. The problem is that the furnace blower won't run, which means that the wonderful cool (or warm, depending on the situation) won't leave the furance and head into the rest of the house. This happened a week from last Friday. My A/C takes a long time to get the temperature down if it gets behind, but does a great job of maintaining once it gets to the right temperature, so I usually try to anticipate with the forecast when I turn it on. Friday was not that warm, but it was to get pretty hot on Saturday, so I threw the A/C on when I got home on Friday night. It ran for a while, and then cut off. I thought that it had been a rather short cycle, but didn't think much of it until I went outside a bit later and realized that the A/C unit itself was still running. Oops. After some quick self-diagnostics confirmed the issue was that the blower wasn't working, I called the repair company and they came out on Saturday, confirmed what I already knew, sort of, and ordered the part. Fortunately, Saturday was a single hot day, rather than the beginning of a wave, and it cooled off very nicely overnight so I was able to keep the house very comfortable.

On Wednesday, they came back out with the part. Unfortunately, it turns out that there are 3 different parts involved in making the blower run, and the part they replaced was not the one that was causing the problem, at least, not all by itself. So, we're playing this game again at some point this week once the other 2 parts come in. Anyhow, not a huge deal, it wasn't that warm during the week. There were, however, several pretty warm days toward the end of the week, and by Saturday night, it had gotten to right about the point in my bedroom where I start to be uncomfortable sleeping. Fortunately, again, it was a pretty cool evening already, so I was able to open up the house and cool things down a bit before bedtime, and then by Sunday morning, it was perfectly comfortable in the house.

This, however, is where I should have checked the forecast. I'm figuring it's going to warm up later in the day, so I'll leave the house open for a while and then close things up in the afternoon so it doesn't get too warm in the house. So, I went downstairs to the basement (which is easily the most stable part of the house temperature-wise) for a few hours. Little did I know that we were looking at a high of about 60 for yesterday, so when I came back upstairs, it was about 58 in my kitchen (it was still about 55 outside), 62 in my living room, and not much warmer in my bedroom, with no real hope of help from the weather for warming things up, and no functional heating.

So, I did what any resourceful person would do in this situation: I put the oven on the cleaning cycle. This was actually quite fortuitious, because it needed done, and I always have a hard time figuring out when to do it, because if I'm running the heat or the A/C, it winds up making the temperature in the house really uneven, because it's maybe 10 feet from the thermostat. In this case, it was just the ticket to make the house quasi-comfortable again.

Now, if only they would actually get the parts and get out here to fix the thing so I don't have to be creative again in the future, it would be great!

More Falcon magic

I've been pondering my return to the blog for the last several days, but being that I'd gone almost a month since posting, I really felt like I wanted to come back with a bang. Well, as they've made a habit of doing over the past number of years, some Messiah College athletes gave me a perfect opportunity.

With a 2-0 win over Coe in this afternoon's national championship game, the Messiah College Lady Falcon softball is your 2009 NCAA champions. The championship, which is the first for the softball program, is the 3rd championship for Messiah teams this academic year, and the 9th for the athletic program overall, with all of them having come since the fall of 2000. I've been over the incredible run Messiah athletics has been on over the past decade a number of times, and it just keeps on rolling. This one, more so than any in recent memory, however, came completely from of the radar at the beginning of the season. The Lady Falcons were 22-21 last year, and didn't even make the championship game of the conference tournament, so I don't think anyone forsaw the magically 43-4 run that ended this afternoon with them hoisting the walnut and bronze trophy that signifies a national championship. I believe I read where a 30 win season was the team's pre-season goal.

However, in softball, as much as in probably any team sport out there, it only takes one 1 player to make a complete and total difference, as long as that player is your pitcher. Such was the case for the Lady Falcons this year, as they rode the arm of freshman sensation Jessica Rhoads to paydirt. The numbers were just staggering - a final record of 28-1, an era of roughly .5, averaging almost 2 strikeouts per inning, holding opponent's to a batting average of about .080, and it all culminated in a 4 game run at the College World Series in which she allowed only 1 run (in the first game of the tournamet) In what will have to go down as one of the all-time great awards "snubs", I believe I read the other day that Rhoads was not named as an All-American. That really speaks to just how much Messiah came out of nowhere - they weren't even ranked until NCAA tournament time, and then they were very near the bottom of the Top 25.

Anyhow, it's just incredible to see another Messiah championship go in the books! Let's go Falcons!

(Oh, and for the record, I just scooped both Messiah's athletics homepage and the official site of the D-III softball national championship with this report. I rock! :-) )

Silenced too soon

It still stings, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I thought I'd feel better today, but I don't really. It's really amazing how something that is ultimately so insignificant can have such a profound impact when its gone.

Okay, enough with vagueness. In case you haven't heard, Harry Kalas, the Hall of Fame broadcaster who spent 38+ years as the voice of the Philadelphia Phillies, died suddenly yesterday at the age of 73. He passed out in the booth while preparing for yesterday afternoon's game with the Washington Nationals, and never woke up. I got the news via email read on my cellphone at about 2:30 pm yesterday, and I'll be honest, it was hard to focus the rest of the day. And it's not like I've been moping around and depressed ever since, but in quiet moments when my mind has a chance to go there - it does, and I'm left feeling like something is missing that can never be replaced. It's not a loss like a friend, a family member, a loved one, but its a loss, none the less.

I'm sure to some of you, this doesn't make any sense - and from a totally outside perspective, it really doesn't. We're talking about a game here, and not even really a game, but the guy who broadcast the game. And yet, I have a hard time believing there's too many people out there who call themselves Phillies fans who haven't dealt with similar emotions, to some degree, since they got the news.

Baseball is, yes, just a game, but it is also a passion for many, and a significant part of our national heritage, as are broadcasters like Kalas - signature voices who have been the constant defining characteristic of the team they call for decades. I've been alive just 2 days under 29 years, and been a Phillies fan for most of those years, since I first understood what major league baseball was. In this era of baseball, more than ever, players, coaches, owners, they change all the time - but Harry's voice was the one constant you could count on at every Phillies game - it was always there, and even though intellectually, you know it wouldn't always be there, you FELT like it would be, and you could never imagine anything different.

Harry the K was a rare figure in the sports lore of the notoriously tough town of Philadelphia, in that he was universally and pretty much unconditionally beloved - and he loved the fans, and he loved the team he covered. Along with his distinctive voice and his signature calls "That ball is outta here!", he brought a clear passion and love of what he did and the game he called to the booth. He showed personality and feeling without being a Vitale like fanboy. He gave you the feeling, with every rise and fall of his voice in the big moments of games, that he cared about the game as much as you did as a fan, and did it all while being the consummate professional. In the eyes of many Phillies fans and players, something didn't happen on that field unless Harry made the call. It sounds corny, but I found out first hand myself just how true that was last October, in the moments shortly after the Phillies clinched their second World Series championship. The game was on Fox, of course, and I had heard Joe Buck call it live, and sure, I was excited. But a few minutes later, they ran the replay with Harry's call from the Phillies radio booth, and it brought just a whole other level of emotion. Don't ask me to explain it - I can't. There was just something fundamentally right about Harry's voice with that moment. Up until yesterday, I still got chills every time I heard that call. Now, the chills are still there, but there's just something different, knowing Harry will never again call a great moment in Phillies history.

As an aside, even though Kalas was the Phillies lead broadcaster in 1980 when they won their first World Series, 2008 was the first time he got to experience calling the winning out of the World Series live. You see, in 1980, network rules didn't allow for the local radio crews to broadcast games. The Phillies broadcast crew did a re-creation the next day. Not surprisingly, that rule was overturned in 1981, due in no small part to outrage from Phillies fans that they didn't get to hear Harry make the final call.

I knew this day would come, the day when Harry's voice would leave the Phillies booth. In fact, in recent years, I'd remarked to fellow fans that I hoped he would walk away before his skills had eroded too much, unlike a number of the other greats of his generation. I never wanted to have any memories of him other than as the Hall of Fame talent he was, and so I hoped he wouldn't hang on too long. But I always assumed that the day that came on Sunday, the day of his last call from the Phillies booth, would be announced, and that I'd have a chance to listen, to take in - that we fans would have the opportunity to say thanks. Even had he been forced from the booth suddenly, I always figured he'd still be around, that there'd be a sold out "Harry the K" day at Citizens Bank Park, another opportunity for a team and its fans to show their appreciation. And yet it wasn't to be.

I didn't get a chance to watch much of Sunday's game due to Easter time with family, and I hadn't watched a game on TV or listened on the radio in several days before that. And so I'm left with my final real memory of Harry, which came 4 days before his final game, when he threw out a ceremonial first pitch before Wednesday's game, the day of the Phillies World Series ring ceremony. I was there, watching from the front row of the 300 level behind home plate, as he strode out onto the mound to a standing ovation, wearing a Phillie red dress coat that on any other guy at any other time would have seemed completely outrageous, but for him, in that moment, was exactly right. I saw him rear back and throw - a pitch that made it maybe 2/3 of the way to the plate and then rolled across it. I heard the crowd, that crowd of notoriously tough fans who had just given a Citizens Bank executive who threw his ceremonial first pitch to the backstop a sound booing, roar its approval, and then I saw him give a triumphant thumbs up as he walked away.

It's a different era these days, with TV and the ESPN era having made sports broadcasters national icons, and glorified personalities like Vitale, Berman, and the like. This new age of broadcasters is full of guys who are trying "be someone". Harry was clearly only ever interested in being Harry, and that's what made him so special, and it's why, while they will continue to play baseball in Philadelphia, it will never be the same. Harry WAS Phillies baseball, and while they can, and will, fill his job, they will never replace him.

Rest in peace, Harry the K.

Contrary to popular belief...

I'm not dead, and neither is this blog, though I'm not necessarily sure how you would have been able to tell recently. It's crazy to think I've gone a month without posting. Allow me to give you the dime tour of the month.

Sunday, March 15th - I led (note, I didn't say "preached") at CrossWalk

Sunday, March 22nd - We had our first church softball practice. I had a sniffle and a tickle in my throat that I THOUGHT were signs of the beginning of my typical week or so of draining sinuses that seems to accompany the coming of spring for me in recent years. Realized the next morning, however, that it was actually a last attack from cold season. I slogged through most of the week and was feeling better just in time to pack up and get ready for...

Friday, March 27th through Monday, March 30th - The annual pilgrimage to Clearwater, Florida and the Phillies spring training. The mood was a triumphant one this year, and it was great to be down in the warm weather celebrating the return of baseball season. We spent a frustrating (due to 30 MPH winds) day on the golf course as well. All in all a great trip, and we got back just in time for me to fight through my sunburn and spend a very busy week preparing for...

Saturday, April 4th - The Bible quizzing tournament that I run every year. We were at a new church this year, with, unfortunately, our smallest field ever. However, it was a great facility with a very helpful host church. Everything ran smoothly, and I spent less time than ever on setup/teardown stuff both before and after the tournament. Of course, the trophy shop forgot to attach ribbons to most of the medals I gave out (you know, the things you actually use to hang them around people's necks), and we had a snafu with the individual scores that I'll have to correct. All and all, though, a very fun, but very long day. Ordinarily I'd kick back and chill the whole next day, but that wasn't an option because...

Sunday, April 5th - Headed south (though not THAT far south) for a family Easter dinner (mom's side). Came back for CrossWalk, and then headed home to watch the Phillies open their defense of their World Series championship, which didn't go very well. Luckily, baseball has a 162 game season, which leads me to...

Wednesday, April 8th - I took the afternoon off from work and went with a friend to see the Phillies game, before which they hand the World Series ring ceremony, something I just HAD to see my own eyes. It was a totally awesome experience, and it seemed the game itself was going to be a letdown, with the Phillies trailing 10-3 and looking at an 0-3 start, until they score 8 runs in the bottom of the 7th, with nothing more than walks, singles, and a HBP. Easily the most bizarre rallies I've ever seen, and the wildest comeback I've seen live.

Moving past "should"

An interesting thing happened to me last Sunday.

Let me give you some background. I've mentioned my mentor Joe in previous entries. Back in mid-January, we had our first "official" mentoring meeting. As we talked about various things, we got around to my personal, daily time with God, which, at the time, was pretty much non-existant. I shared with him my struggles at spending even 15-20 minutes with God on a daily basis, and he, of course, wondering if I had ever tried an hour. I looked at him rather cross-eyed and gave him a "Didn't you hear what I just said?", but he persisted and I agreed to try. More on the implications and results of that in a future entry.

The larger issue he addressed in that time, however, was the fact that with this, as with anything, if I was only doing something because I "should" or "ought" to do it, and didn't see the benefit or worth of it, that would only last so long. So, until I spent consistent time in God's presence and saw the difference that it made, it was always going to be a struggle. His suggestion was that I start by signing up for an hour in our church's prayer room on a weekly basis, and build from there, which I agreed to do. However, I also decided I would just dive right in outside of that, because, well, I had the time and there was no reason not to. I had just gotten possession of the back room in my basement back from my roommate who had moved upstairs, so I christened it as my prayer room (among its other uses) and began setting aside time to go back there, shut the door, and just spend time in God's presence, praying, reading, reflecting, and just listening. It wasn't, and still isn't, a daily thing, but it definitely became a more regular part of my life.

I'll be honest, however, that, while I felt God speaking and using these times, I still felt like I was dealing mostly from "should" - until last Sunday. I had spent my time in the church prayer room on Monday, personal time at home on Tuesday, and then had just let it go the rest of the week. And I had a bad week in a couple of areas. As I came to Sunday, I was really feeling it, and something went through my head that, to be honest, I'm not sure ever had, at least when talking about personal prayer - "I NEED to spend time with God today". It wasn't because that was what I was supposed to do, or because I thought Joe would scold me when he found out how much I was "slacking", it was because I really felt like there was something missing because I hadn't talked to God in a while. So, I took care of it - and God spoke to me so much in that time, and was just so faithful throughout Sunday night at CrossWalk.

I've picked back up some reading lately, and the book I'm reading right now is Fresh Wind, Fresh Fire, by Jim Cymbala. One of the key points in the early chapters of the book is that same one that Joe made to me back in January - prayer can't really truely be effective when it comes from a place of what I "should" or "ought" to do. Now, that's not to say that there's no place for making spending time with God a discipline (quite the opposite in fact), but if that's ALL it ever is, than we've missed something.

Our church office administrator wound up at Hershey Med this week after waking up with seizures early Tuesday morning. Examination revealed a mass on her brain. Obviously this news made it around the church very quickly, and on Tuesday night there was a gathering of 15-20 people in the church's prayer room to pray for her (among other gatherings elsewhere). It was a very sweet time of prayer, and our associate pastor, who organized the time, mentioned how much she craves for these sweet times of corporate prayer, and how unfortunate it is that it often takes a crisis to bring us to such a place. It's very true, and I think that the reason for that is we often don't truly understand our need for God in our daily lives - it takes something we recognize as bigger than us to bring us to the point of crying out to Him. I see the same thing at work with those connected to my friend Lynn who has ALS. If nothing else (and I still wholeheartedly believe that something else WILL happen), God has used this crisis to get His people to seek Him like never before, and in ways that even go beyond just asking for Lynn's healing. It took me having something in my life that I realized I couldn't deal with on my own before I really began to press in. By the way, the woman with the mass on her brain was released 2 days (they said it would take 5) after surgery to remove the mass, and is now awaiting the results of tests to determine whether the mass was cancerous or not.

In my own life, and around me, I see God using circumstances to cause His people to cry out to Him like never before. And none of this is to say that I've "arrived" in this. I find myself this morning in a situation that bears some resemblance to last week, which is probably why I felt compelled to finally write about it. My prayer is that He would continue to move me past "should" and "ought" and to a deep, abiding need to spend time with Him and cry out to Him, and that the same would happen for others. It's what has to happen if we're to see the promise of II Chronicles 7:14, which was give to Israel but I certainly believe applies to us today, realized: "if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land."