They call it a marathon for a reason
Today I'm posting from the 22nd floor of the Westin Hotel in Pittsburgh, overlooking the Civic Arena (I will not acknowledge those darn corporate sponsors who are renaming everything!), the train station and, unfortunately, the Greyhound station. As Steve-o astutely pointed out a little bit ago, "It looks like the dandruff off an Englishmen's head out there." Yeah, it's in the 30's and raining/snowing. It's not pretty. Weather Channel aficionado, Sue Weber (my Mum), says that it's going to be 75 and sunny by Thursday (the day we have Pirates tickets). We're all hanging our hopes on that promise.

I don't know about you, but when I think of a marathon, terms such as "not easy," "ludicrous," (Ludacris got the beat, make your booty go [smack] - that was for you JP) "insane," and "brutal" come to mind. This past Saturday, I only ran a half marathon and round about mile 11, amongst other things, I thought, I will NEVER run a full marathon. I thought, if I just finish this alive, I'll be lucky. Easily the hardest physical thing I've ever done. But totally worth it. It's a pretty emotional thing to prepare for four straight months for something that takes just a little over two hours - two long, grueling, mentally and physically exhausting hours. I had shouting matches in my head with myself during the last few miles. It was the drill sergeant side of my split personality who barked at my wimpy, tired side "You will NOT stop! You can rest later you filthy piece of crap!!" Ok, so maybe I didn't call myself names. That was just one of the ways I kept myself going. A few miles earlier, I was searching for my motivation—my one good reason NOT to just lay down on the sidewalk and give up. So I started thinking about the Leukemia patients I was running in honor of... the people I had scrawled on my arms and ankles for everyone to see. As I focused on the challenge that life had dealt them, tears started to well up in my eyes. Hmm, maybe crying while running isn't the best idea. Better think on something else - but it had served its purpose and I was motivated once again. As I kept going, I told myself that when I crossed that finish line, I wanted to say that I had left my heart and soul on the course. That I had given it absolutely everything and literally had nothing left. Mission accomplished. The last mile (the very longest mile I've ever run in my life, mind you), I was simply counting backwards from 10—over and over and over. It was the only thing I could do to focus and not give myself over to despairing thoughts. After I crossed the finish line (I'll spare you the details that indicate my complete physical exhaustion), just know that if someone walked up to me and said, "Run now or I'll shoot you." I would have said, "Hey dude, whatever you gotta do, aight?" and went on drinking my purple Gatorade. Yeah, I think that constitutes as "everything" I had. Final time: two hours, four minutes, and fifty-seven seconds. Final thoughts: This one wasn't supposed to be for me, but it sure made me feel good. Doesn't it always work that way?

When's the next race kids?

Life Is Never Boring
Tomorrow (Thursday) begins what promises to be some very unconventional and interesting days in my life. A throw back from my recent past, but with a new twist, Ichthus starts tomorrow. A particpant only at first, I then spent several years on the festival committee running the sales tent and basically reeking havoc on a golf cart. This year I've got a press pass from Good News and with Steve-o in Vegas (that's Las Vegas, not Nick Vegas) I'm the one responsible for covering this event for the magazine (yikes :-/). Which means I'm the one in the press tent with Relient K and Switchfoot... bands I respect for their music, lyrics... and cute boys. Let's just hope I can keep it together and ask some semblence of an interesting, thoughtful question.

Bring on Friday and the beginnings of my BIG race. Wait Julie, didn't you just run a big race a few weeks ago? Yes, I know I'm confusing everyone. I did run a 10-mile race in Louisville 2 weeks ago (check me out!), but this Saturday is the big, BIG one. It's been the focus of my training and my fundraising. Props and hugs to everyone who supported me with their gifts, encouraging words and prayers. The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society has stronger legs to run on thanks to you. Friday night kicks off with a pasta party for all the participants. I will testify to the fact that pre-race pasta provides you with those great carbs that your body is digging down to find when you feel just spent. The race begins at 7:30 Saturday morning (ouch! I thought it was 8!), and I'll be all decked out in my purple Team in Training jersey, and bearing the names of all the wonderful people I'm running in honor/memory of. 13.1 miles, baby - bring it on. I promise to post and let everyone know how it went - wish me luck!

Monday I leave for General Conference '04 in my kickin' hometown of Pittsburgh. General Conference is like the Olympics for the United Methodist church. (When I said this in small group last night, Kara said with a confused look on her face, "you mean, you like, compete?") No, Kara-boo, no sports. :) BUT, this only happens every four years and delegates arrive from all over the world, spending two weeks hashing out the do and don'ts for the entire denomination for the next four years. Yeah, it's big stuff for them. Lots of people with strong differing opinions, desperate to make their point heard. Apparently people get arrested every year - I can't wait. I will do my best to post with all the juicy details.

To my Kentucky people - I will miss you dearly while I'm gone. In fact, I'm a little sad now and I haven't even left yet. To my Pittsburgh homeys... I can't wait to see you. I hope that two weeks in my city gives me back my accent and therefore my hometown cred. Now, hows abaht leavin' me a comment, or get ahta 'ere. :)

Easter Reflections
I’m sure I’ve heard the following as a sermon illustration before, but I have never really thought about it too much. However, I was thinking yesterday about the notion of sin having a physical effect on your body. I’m not talking about stress – I mean, what if every time you sinned, it left a scar on or mutated your body in some way. We start off beautiful and fully made in the image of God, and as we sin and rebel against Him, we become uglier and more disgusting. If beauty is the goal of our society, as it so often seems to be, talk about motivation to be holy and righteous! What a different world we might live in. Well, that isn’t what happens to us, but as we know, God doesn’t look at the outward appearance – he looks at the heart. And we scar and mutate our heart every single day, we just think it’s hidden from sight. Now, if you’ve seen The Passion, picture what Jesus looked like by the time he reached Golgotha to be crucified. He has been so abused, you simply can’t imagine another wound could be cast upon his body. Every inch is covered – and all of the ugliness that should be ours he took upon himself. This Easter I am overwhelmed with His sacrifice and filled with joy. He is my hope and my Azazel.

But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. - Isaiah 53:5

The Sunrise Service
I’ll never know how much it cost, to see my sin upon that cross. – Chris Tomlin

Since I go to a very large church, I knew the services would be packed out on Easter Sunday morning. Which doesn’t just mean “more people to worship with.” It also translates into crazy traffic, terrible parking situations and large amusement park-like crowds. So I convinced a few friends to attend the sunrise service with me at 7 am.

The sunrise service holds a special place in my heart. Every Easter was the same growing up at Dorseyville Alliance Church, and that meant the Weber family attended everything offered that Sunday: sunrise service, Easter breakfast, Sunday School and the main worship service. All in all, about 5+ hours of church activity - and that was just the morning. After all that, an afternoon nap was not even a question. The sunrise service was like a rite of passage. During the later worship service, you made eye contact and gave a head nod to those who had also been with you during the sunrise service. Yes, the respect was now mutual. You were in the club. They may as well have sold t-shirts afterward: "I survived the Dorseyville Alliance Easter Service Marathon."

It wasn't pretty getting there though. Getting up before the sun wasn’t a standard occurrence in our household. And since none of the Webers were (or ever will be) “morning people,” we didn’t exactly roll out of bed singing a happy tune. My brothers and I expressed more than our share of complaints, retorts and flat-out whining while getting ready for church. (And you guys wondered where I got it from.) My mother would try to coax us out of our warm beds by telling us to pretend we were going to Disney World, referencing our big vacation a few years prior that required us to rise at an ungodly hour to get to the airport on time. Sorry Mum, but ham, hardboiled eggs and chocolate milk in the church fellowship hall is NOT Disney World. No, not even if Dad wears his Goofy tie. And without fail, my nice spring-like Easter dress would not be prepared for whatever blustery conditions that an early Pennsylvania morning in April brought to us that year. It might be 70 degrees by noon, but at 6:30 am when we were getting in the car, it was most likely hovering around the freezing mark. However, despite everything that seems “unfun” about these memories, those dark, early Easter mornings were so special to me. And every time I get up before the sun, I will be reminded of them - and smile. :)

Friday Something
That is what my boss's 8 year old son, John Paul, said the other day when trying to remember what we call Good Friday. So cute.

I find it curious that we are working a half day today. Yes, I work at a Christian magazine, Good News. Who was it that thought, you know, let's not give our employees ALL of Good Friday off? A half day should do it for one of the top three most important days for our entire faith-base. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday? By all means, let's take off the whole day! Labor Day? Well we've got to make our jello pretzel salad in the morning, don't we? As for today, they may as well have said, hey, why don't we all gather at the office in the morning and surf the internet as a "community?"

I'm also getting jipped out of all my vacation days by working two jobs. Good News has MLK Jr's birthday off, but Cre8tive Group doesn't. Cre8tive Group has off today, but I still had to get up to come to Good News.

But I'm not complaining. Just an observation. :)

Wow - it's totally time to blog again. To anyone who cares: sorry for being such a blogging slacker. And I apologize in advance for how boring this one surely will be.

It's another one of those stupidly nice spring days today. I'm soaking it in now. By Saturday morning, it's going to be in the 30s and raining. Oh yeah, and I'm going to run in a 10 mile race on Saturday morning. Jealous, huh? I'm never going to blog about running in the rain again and how great it is. I totally asked for this.

More running adventures to report though... got chased down by two dogs nipping at my heels yesterday. And on my new favorite hill too. Total bummer, as now I'm kinda scared to go back to it. I believe it was only by the grace of God that they did not bite me, because they did not give up easily. I just kept running and praying, "Dear Lord, please don't let them bite me..." I probably should have stopped and let them smell me, then moved on slowly. Hindsight is 20/20.

I don't know what else to write about today, so I'm going to include some quotes about Survivor: All-Stars from my favorite reviewer, Christine Seghers. If you don't watch, feel free to move on now. Christine is a comic genius (in my eyes) because she takes the things that people on Survivor say and do and gives them her own little irreverant twist. Case in point, last week everyone knows that Boston Rob (or Chachi as she calls him) and his tribe of lemmings made WAY too big a deal out of Amber having to switch to the other tribe. Here's Christine's take on what went down:

"At Camp Fakko Fakko, Chachi has lost all his bounce and arrogance. He sighs, 'Ah hope Ambuh's okay. Ah keer abou' huh an' it kills me tuh have huh ovuh dere buh huhself.' Rupert nods, 'I just pray they don't kill her and eat her for food," as the others nod soberly. Jenna quietly sobs."

The next part is a rather long excerpt from earlier in the season when former winner, Jenna Morasca, decided to leave the game to go be with her dying mother. Yes, it was a a very serious situation and everyone feels bad for Jenna and supports her decision to leave. What follows in Christine's review, however, is one of the funniest things she's ever written.

All three tribes arrive at the Immunity Beach, where an elaborate looking challenge will go unplayed. Or maybe they'll leave it up and play it next time, I dunno, but the point is, they don't play it today. It starts with everyone "taking in" the new Yogi's, and Hatch reacts with mocking false-sorrow at Rudy's departure. Jeff asks how everyone's doing--actually, he asks the PYT's from each tribe how they're doing: Poor Jenna, Amber and Rich Jenna. Poor Jenna's grrrrrreeeeat! Amber's just peachy, thanks! Hatch speaks for a weepy Jenna, and pretends he gives a rat's patootie about the "emotional things" going on at Leggo My Eggo. Then Rich Jenna announces, "Due to an illness in my family, I need to pull myself out of the game. I love this game but my priority is my family." She declares that her mother's condition has gotten worse. Jeff frowns, "You're talking like you're getting updates or something and if that's true, I'll find out who leaked this information and fire their ass!" Jenna shakes her head, "No, it's like a psychic connection--She's my mother, I'm her only child, I got a vibe--I saw the Symbolic Pelican of Death rise out over the ocean, and I know she needs me there. I made a bad judgment call, I shouldn't have came--she wanted me to do this but I'd never forgive myself if she died while I was here (CBS cuts to a weepy Ethan, who's Dad died after a long illness when he was a teenager). CBS is such a bastard--even the way they promoted this--"You won't BELIEVE what happens in the LAST 15 minutes!!!!" I guess we should count our blessings that they didn't say, "Tonight on Survivor: SOMEBODY DIES!!!"

Jeff opens up the discussion to the peanut gallery. Honestly, I think Hatch is the only person who really gets this from a game POV: Hey, Jenna's LEAVING. We don't have to expend any energy trying to win immunity and none of the rest of us are going home: Neat-o! Alicia scowls, "Yo, family rules, aiiight. There's nothing more important. I wouldn't've come out here to begin with--I want you to go, I nevuh woulda come. Evuh!" Kath gets all Mother Bear protective and barks back, "Hey, Jenna ADMITTED she made a mistake by abandoning her mother back at the hospice to die alone, okay?" Alicia shrugs, unfazed, "I know she admits it--So?" Amber decides to be the goodwill ambassador of Shakira and asks Jeff for permission to cross the sacred Tribal lines and give Jenna a hug, which he allows--gee, thanks, Jeff. Jenna continues, "I just want to give major props to all you guys--the game is really hard this time and you're a lot stronger than me." This sets off Jeff's Osten-o-meter, "Wai-wai-wait! Are you quitting because you're mother's dying of cancer as we speak, or are you quitting because you're a whiny wimp with no respect for THE GAME like that contestant whose torch we banished!? Because if you just can't handle it, then you're coming to Tribal Council, missy, and I'll shame ya! I'll shame ya good!" Jenna retorts, "Uh, HELLO, I handled it so well last time that I WON, dumbass. I need this time with my mom, okay?" Chachi tearfully tells Jeff to back off, "Ah don' tink dat it's right fuh any of us tuh question her motives--I say we suppaht huh, an not jus because uh duh fact dat she's haht." Rupert chimes in, "I feel bad fuh her, because I'm so sensitive, but I also condemn her fuh quitting because I'm such a competitor. That's the dichotomy that is Rupert." Big Tom blathers, "Ah maiyd commih't ahs cu'n hyeh. Ah tol' meh faimleh, if'n thaiy ul dodd in cah wreck? Ah'l be thar aferts over. Ah maiyd thet sihzyon fer Big Tom--a lot of paypul er diff'rnt then Big Tom." THANK GOD. Jeff sighs, "Okay, Jenna, I guess we can't keep you here and force to you to try and win a million dollars--and believe me, I DID ask our lawyers but they said that even though we're in a foreign land, you're an American citizen and it would constitute false imprisonment. But this could have BIG HUGE consequences to the game--especially if we were trying to bring back all the ousted players back for some reason, which we're NOT. Probably. Plus, you're giving a free pass to everyone else including the Big Loser Yogi's! And you're leaving your tribe a person short which means only ONE of them can sit out of the challenges, instead of two! Can you live with that?" "Yep." "Can you make it to Tribal Council?" "Nope." Jeff looks bummed about the no Tribal Council thing. Jenna is hugged by everyone and then she waves goodbye. A Speedboat takes her away from the islands and then a card comes up: "Jenna raced back home. Eight Days later, her mother lost her long battle with cancer so, turns out it was a good thing that she left when she did, huh?" Many are left to feel bad for making fun of her, yet their contempt of Jenna is understandable because she was best friends with Heidi.