So, I Became a Runner

About a hundred years ago (more like 17) I started running and cycling. It was a transitional time in my life. I was seeking change in more than one way. Just less than a year before that I met the back of a cop car and a jail cell, two people you don’t want to meet. They were both assholes. (Btw, I got a DUI during the summer of 2002. The best worst thing that has ever happened to me.) On top of that, I lost a girlfriend to one of my best friends (Totally my fault. Sorry Lisa.) I lost a job (It was a real shitty job). And, I was going broke (never had much money anyway). 

So, it was time to turn over a new leaf, so to speak. I did what any 23-year-old would do when he hits a figurative wall; I moved home. Yes, I moved back in with my parents and reassessed my life. First thing first, I needed to get my fat ass in shape so I could make the ex-girl jealous (a total dead-end move). 

Let me provide a little history. Let’s take it back several years. I grew up a pretty big kid. I mean, I was chubby. I was, what some parents like to call their fat kids, “husky”. In high school, after reaching my maximum height of 5’8”, I started to grow in width. By the end of my junior year I reach 260 lbs. of pure sexy. Damn, I was hot. 

It was somewhere around that time that I asked cheerleader to go out with me. And, of course, she said yes! She had really big pretty eyes. We went out once and “sat” in my truck a couple of times after school. A couple weeks later, she started dating a football player. I was heartbroken. I liked her and I wanted her to me my girlfriend. I mean, I thought we were good together. Stuff like that didn’t bother me much (I am lying.) But, I decided I was going to change my image a little. Maybe I would lose a few pounds and get in shape like the football player that snagged my lady friend. 

I told my mom that I wanted to lose some weight and I needed her help. My mom has a long history of working in fitness clubs, dance studios, and gyms so I knew she would be glad to help. And, she was really excited. I think she knew that I needed to do something so that I wouldn’t experience any major problems later in life. 

It was the Summer of 1996 when I started dieting. That summer I lost 40 lbs. By the end of my senior year, I had lost 85 lbs. And, yes, it was all because of a girl with big pretty eyes. (Thanks Courtney.) And, of course, I never asked her out again. I had a new, pretty girlfriend that would have never considered going out with me a year prior even though she told me she thought I was cute when I was fat. (Thanks Charity.)  

Five years later I had gained most of the weight back. Working in restaurants will do that to you. I was at 230 lbs. I knew how to lose the weight because I had done it before. But, I wanted to do it differently. I didn’t want to diet. I wanted to simply be healthy. And, I had the best driving force I needed to motivate me, anger. 

Between the DUI, losing a job, losing my girlfriend, and losing a best friend for taking my girlfriend, I had all the motivation I needed to start running. (Couldn’t have done it without you Steve.) Why did I run? Because, it hurt. It made me hurt in places that I had never hurt before. My legs, shoulders, nipples, gonads, feet, ankles, you name it; it hurt. But, I kept doing it. I would go out in the middle of the night because I couldn’t sleep thinking about my friend and ex doing stuff together. I would run until I couldn’t run anymore (which wasn’t that far). Then, I would start again. That physical pain took my mind from my emotional pain. Then the craziest thing happened; I started to like it. And, I started to run farther and faster. 

To supplement the running, I acquired an old mountain bike. Actually, my mom purchased it for me from my brother-in-law for 50 bucks. (Thanks Mom and Tim.) It was way too big for me but I made it work. I rode the hell out it, took it apart and reassembled it, and treated it like it was a worth a fortune. To me, it was. It was the beginning of a new relationship. I’ll save that story for later.  

Toward the end of the 2002, I was much healthier than I was at the beginning of the year. I had lost about 40 lbs. and the more I ran, the faster it came off. Pain was still motivation but, the mirror was supplementing the drive as well.  

On Christmas Eve, 2002 I officially became a runner. I personally declared myself a runner and here’s why. It was 11:00 PM. It was about 25 degrees outside and I headed to the local park to hit the pain cave for about an hour. (Pain cave is metaphor for a hard run or workout in general.) By this time, I had worked up to three miles without stopping to walk. The park had a half-mile track that twisted through a nice wooded area. I bundled up and started running the loop. About three laps in, it started to snow. As I took in the feeling of nature, I forgot about the pain. It was exhilarating. I couldn’t think about the ex-girlfriend or the pain. All I could think about was how incredible it was to be running in the snow on Christmas Eve. It was certainly a gift from God. But, the craziest thing happened on that night. I ran five miles…nonstop. It was like climbing over an obstacle that I couldn’t do previously. It was a milestone. Yes, I had become a runner. 

Note: The truth is, I had become a runner months before that night because of the dedication I had invested in it. It doesn’t take a person running five miles to become a runner. But, it was the personal affirmation I needed to give myself that title. 

I continued to hit my five-mile mark consistently for a couple of months. It didn’t matter if I was on the road, treadmill, trail, or track. I was nailing it and I was getting faster. One day, while at the gym, this guy approached me to compliment my running. He, too, was a runner. He told me that he and some friends were going to run the Nashville half-marathon in April (two months away) and he invited me to join them. I think my response was, “Hell yeah! What is a half-marathon?” He explained to me that it was a 13.1 mile run and it was like a “party through the streets in downtown Nashville.” I just went ahead and committed. I didn’t think about it. I went home that night and registered. (Thanks Nolan.) 

They say that you don’t have to run a whole 13 miles to train for a half-marathon. If you can run ten or so, you’re good. Well, I didn’t know that so I worked up to a 13 miler in that two months. Maybe I didn’t have to work up to that. But, that half-marathon was a breeze. And, it was more fun than I have ever had at a community event. That race helped me find myself, my people, and the path I had been looking for. I caught the bug. 

That year, in addition to the half-marathon, I participated in a 10-mile run, a 10k run, a 5k run, an off-road adventure race, and two sprint-distance triathlons. Yes, I had caught the bug and when the winter of 2003 rolled around, all I could think about was what I was going to do in 2004 and how I was going to get better at this new thing. 

It’s been 16 years since all of that happened. I have participated in countless endurance events of many sorts. There is a story to tell of when I started racing mountain bikes in 2006 but I will save that for later, too. But, since it all started, there have been very few weeks that I didn’t run, ride, or workout. I honestly think there has been three full weeks in 16 years that I didn’t do anything. One was due to strep throat the other two were cases of flu. I have taken breaks from participating in events over the years because I needed to be reminded that it’s not about competition against me or anyone else. It’s about living, loving, and learning. Living a healthy lifestyle, loving yourself and what God has given you, and learning that you can do anything you put your mind to. And it’s about appreciating people and experiences along the way. The people we encounter affect us. How they affect us is not completely up to them; it’s up to you. What to do with a person’s influence is up to you. You can allow it to affect you negatively and screw up your attitude. Or, you can make the best of it and make it a tool to create a better you. 

I just want to add, about a year after I became a runner, I made peace with my friend and ex-girlfriend. We all put the past behind us and it was a good feeling to move on. They are now married with two beautiful little girls.

Watch God at Work

God surprises us in the most unlikely ways, at the most unexpected times. I want to share with you something that God is showing me and using to revive my faith. Even though I am a minister I still need God to revive my faith with spiritual experiences. I believe God shows us little incidents to revive our faith so that we can carry on serving God with zeal and fervor. It is also a reminder that God uses God’s people to make a difference in the world.

Earlier this year, during the summer, a couple of kids arrived at my house on bicycles. They lived in the neighborhood and they informed me that they would be attending VBS at my church. I live in the manse across the street from the church so they were certain of where I lived. They heard that I was in to riding bicycles so they were eager to meet me. We talked bikes for a little while and I told them I was excited for them to join us at VBS. I couldn’t help but notice the bikes they were riding. They were the typical do-what-you-can-to-make-go, rusty, old, department store BMX bikes. You know the type: bald tires, rusty chain, danger trap.. When they left, one of the kids wheelied about a hundred yards down the hill in front of my house. My first thought was, “This kid needs a new bike.” Then I remembered that Maury County (where I live) has a new NICA mountain bike team and they are searching for riders.

When VBS rolled around I met with these boys about racing mountain bikes. They are brothers; one of them is 12 and the other is 13. The idea of bicycle racing for kids this age is astounding. They agreed that they would love to give it a shot. The next obstacle would be finding them bikes. I discovered that their parents would not be able to help with the funding due to low income. The older brother could ride one of my old bikes. I have an older trail/enduro bike that would do the trick with some adjustments. After I fixed it up it was still a little big for him but it didn’t stop him from riding the heck out of it. I contacted the NICA team coach and explained the situation and he happened to have another entry-level bike for the younger brother.

So, it began. We started to ride, train, team practice, and all of the fun stuff that comes with introducing a teenager to mountain biking…until we hit a bump in the road. On a rainy Tuesday the 13-year-old brother showed up at my house with his mom and dad. All three of them had tears in their eyes. Apparently, he got in trouble and been kicked out of the public school. He was sentenced to alternative school for the rest for the year. I also found out that this would be his third trip to alternative school. Alternative school is the place public schools send kids that get in trouble. I have learned that while kids are in these disciplinary institutes their education and curriculum is not priority. Since my neighbor has been twice he has missed a lot of class edification and he is an eighth grader on a fourth grade level. His parents were against sending him back to alternative school. I attempted to reason with his principal and teachers but there was no question; they wanted to rid of him.

The next and better alternative would be homeschooling. The parents found a Christian-based homeschool program in Hohenwald TN. Two problems emerged out of this plan. The parents could not afford it and the program requires for at least one parent to have a high school diploma and they could not meet this criterion. There was no thinking or discernment for me. This was a call to ministry for my church and me. The church is going to pay for the homeschooling and I am going to facilitate it. Several of my church members have offered to help me with the facilitation. When I signed the papers and they explained the curriculum they assured me that his mountain biking would suffice for his physical education requirement.

Victory Bike Studio giveaway bike.

A couple of weeks ago I read a Facebook Post from Clark Butcher, the owner of Victory Bicycle Studio and Pedal Town in Memphis. His post explained that he would be giving away a brand new bicycle to the person that could reply to his post with the best story of why they needed a new bicycle. The person with the most “likes” would win the bike. My first thought was to try to win a mountain bike for my neighbor (the older brother). I posted a brief explanation of his story. I posted it on my phone while he was at Maury County Park, with his teammates, doing hill repeats in the rain. Let me remind you that he was still on my heavy trail bike. I was inspired. Out of the many great and convincing stories replied to that post, my neighbor’s story received the most likes; I won the bike. I did not tell my neighbor about the bike, I wanted to surprise him. The following week I went and picked up the bike from Clark. He explained that he understood that the bike that he was giving was not what I was looking for. It was a road bike and it was a little too big. But, he told me to use it to trade for or purchase the bike I need. Then, Clark graciously gave me seven full race kits and seven extra race jerseys to give to the boys. 

Jerseys and kits from Clark Butcher. 

I sometimes work for a bike shop in Memphis. The name of the shop is Bike the Planet. The owner of the shop is Mel Clark. I have been on this shop payroll for nearly four years. I work there about 2 days out of each month. While I was in Memphis picking up said bike, I stop by to share the story with Mel and friends at BTP. Clark Butcher’s act of kindness inspired Mel. He told me to leave him with the bike that I won. In exchange he gave me two new mountain bikes, one for each brother.

Donald's bike from Mel.

Izik's bike from Mel.

I sometimes get nervous about taking on the responsibility of mentoring and coaching these boys. And, I especially get nervous at the idea of homeschooling one of them. But just when I get nervous God shows me something like this and it revives my enthusiasm to serve and give to my friends in need.

Since all of this has happened, the boys have successfully raced in their first NICA race, they have been attending church regularly, their older sister (15-years-old) has decided to start riding with them, and their mom and dad have become involved in church. The kids have set goals to race throughout high school and with hard work, determination, and the will of God they want to ride and race for a college.

Izik making his way to the finish linear Lock 4

Donald in hot pursuit at Lock 4.

Me giving Donald some tips.

We can see God in so many different ways. I see God the most when I have faith in what God can do through myself and other people. It seems that when I place my trust in the unseen, God allows me to see so much. Fear of the unknown controls our actions. Do not let fear keep you from making a difference for someone. Allow God to work through you and be prepared for God to revive your faith and spirit. 

At church on Sunday night youth meeting. 

Commuting in the Cold

Commuting in the Cold

Since becoming a bike commuter in Memphis, I have learned a little bit about how to dress while on the bike. In Memphis we experience two very different extremes in temperature. In the summer time it gets hot. I mean it gets real hot. The humidity makes it feel like a sauna outside during the summer. I can walk from my front door to my car and have to change shirts because I have perspired so much. In contrast, our winters can potentially see extremes. Now, I know there are people from the northern states laughing while they read this because we seldom see temps below 20 degrees and they commonly weather single digit temps or lower. However, when you weather a Memphis summer, 20 degrees feels like evil end of a polar vortex.

Since UBFM still meets and delivers supplies when the temps get low, we have to bundle up. I don’t claim to be an expert on this but I think I have a grasp on it. Here is the procedure I go through before I tackle one of Memphis’ cold Wednesday nights on the bike.

Let’s start with the ground up. I first put on a pair of warm wool socks. Hiking socks work great. It is better to have one pair of thick socks than have multiple layers. Too many layers will make your shoes too tight and lower circulation, making your feet colder. Some riders like to wear there cycling shoes with clipless pedals. If you are using these I highly recommend shoe covers. Pearl Izumi makes a great cycling shoe-cover. If you are using traditional shoes I recommend a hiking shoe or even a hiking boot. This type of shoe is thicker and will decrease the amount of wind hitting your feet.

The next layer covers you legs. There are several ways to approach this but I have found it best to have on two layers. Your base layer should be a pair of tights. Running tights or long johns work well but it’s best to wear something close to your skin. I prefer jeggings J. The next layer should be something that will break wind. (hehe, break wind J). This is where your Adidas wind pants from the 90s will come in handy. What’s that? Don’t have any? Goodwill has a nice stock. 

Your top layer is very important because you can potentially lose a lot of heat in this area. Your base layer should be a thermal layer that is next to your skin. A long-sleeve Underarmour top will work great. On top of that you will need a sweater-like jacket. I prefer a full-zip fleece. The third layer is something wind-proof. A rain jacket works well for this layer. This top layer will trap in heat and keep it circulating. If it warms up for some crazy reason during the ride, you can remove this layer and place it in your bag.

Your choice of gloves can make a ride good or bad. If you have ever experienced a ride with cold hands, you know it sucks. During our UBFM rides we have to use our hands a lot and it is necessary to take our gloves off during periodic stops. For this reason I have found it beneficial to have a two layer glove system. The top layer is tight and thin. The second layer is large and wind-proof. The top layer is easy to take off and put on. I like to attach the top layer to my wrists so I don’t lose them during stops.

Another important layer is your hat. As bike commuters it is vital to wear a helmet but as a thermal layer it is certainly not enough. Before I put on my hat and helmet I put on a neck gaiter. If you don’t have one I highly recommend it. This will cover your neck but you can also pull it over your face, up to you nose, if needed. After my gaiter is on I cap my outfit with a wool cap. Any kind of beanie will work well as long as it covers your ears and fits under your helmet.

This outfit should prepare you for winter temps in Memphis while commuting on your bike. At worst, you will work up a sweat. If you do start to get cold, pedal faster J     

Snake Creek I

Snake Creek Six Mountain Gap is an epic mountain bike race that traverses a short, treacherous section of the Pinhoti Trail located in Pisgah National forest, north Georgia. This is probably one of my favorite off-road races. It will change a mountain biker. It allows the rider to know that the local 10 mile home loop is not mountain biking; it is trail riding. It slaps the rider in the face with a reality check that mountain biking is not just fitness; it is skill. It challenges the rider not only physically but also mentally. I have seen men give up on the sport just from attempting this event.  I have tasted a vast number of trails in the U.S. and I maintain that there is nothing like Pisgah. Snake Creek is just a adequate and structured way to absorb some Pisgah Trail.

The event consists of a series of three races. It is a 35-mile point-to-point race on the first Saturday of January, February, and March. You pay one fee for all three races and officials accept your fastest race of the three for your winning time. The seasoned pros complete the race in about 3 hours; mortals will finish in 4-6 hours. Many riders use this event as an off-season “long ride” for fitness. However, it can potentially be the hardest race of the year. I have recently learned that, now, if you complete all three races you receive a belt buckle. You see I love belt buckles. I have a collection of leather belts to interchange buckles with. That Snake Creek Gap buckle would look good in my collection.    

I have raced this event six times. I love it. It is a challenging and epic experience located in one of my favorite places of the world. Since moving to Memphis from middle Tennessee, it is much harder to participate in. While living in Murfreesboro I could simply wake up on the morning of the event, drive to Dalton GA, and be ready to race. It is not so easy living an additional 3.5 hours away. However, this would be the year I would tackle the challenge. I’m going back to the Snake, I am going to post three of my fastest times, and I’m going to do them all on a single speed.

I have been meticulously prepping for the Snake this year. I have been testing gear ratios on my single speed, performing countless hill repeats, and tackling 3-4 hour off-road rides. I have been watching my nutrition during the holidays and putting the hours on the bike so race 1 wouldn’t be a disaster. I asked off work for the day of and the day before each event two months ago. Secular work was covered and ministry work was caught up. My plans for race 1 were to leave Memphis at three, drive home to Lewisburg TN to chat with my parents, have dinner and crash, wake up at 4:00 AM, and be in Dalton GA at 7:30 with time to prep for an 8:30 race start. On my way to Lewisburg from Memphis I remembered that I would lose an hour in GA with time change. No problem, I will leave home at 3:30. It would all work out perfect. After the race I will come back to my parents house, take a nap, finalize a sermon, wake up on Sunday, preach a sermon and serve communion in Columbia TN, beat the snow storm back to Memphis, and all in time to Pick up Ellen (girlfriend who I haven’t seen in ten days) from the airport. This is how I planned my first weekend of 2014 and it would be awesome.

There was a hiccup. I was in bed on Friday night, bundled up and ready for a good pre-race slumber. I pulled out my iPhone to set my alarm for 3:10 AM. That would give the coffee pot enough time to brew and me enough time to suit up. All of my race stuff was accounted for and packed. Hydration pack was full, two bottles were full of thick electrolyte drink, two gel flasks were full of my favorite chocolate/PB Hammer Gel mix with a dash of water for the perfect consistency, and each layer of thermal wear was laid out and stacked so I wouldn’t forget one from heart rate monitor to the outer wind layer. I was prepared for the forecasted 18-degree temps and I was ready to go fast. My bike was tight and ready to fly. My bags were packed with a pre-race meal, helmet, shoes, etc. I packed an extra outfit to put on after the event. I packed 20 bucks in cash because I know there is a Chili’s close by that will be perfect for post-race meal. I already knew that I was going to order some delicious shrimp tacos and tall, cold ale. Yes, this was going to be a good day. But, I forgot one thing. My iPhone is my alarm. It wakes me up almost every morning. I say almost because it doesn’t wake me on the morning I don’t set it and it didn’t wake me on this morning. So, when you create a new alarm on your iPhone (obviously I did because I don’t commonly wake up at 3:10 AM) be sure to choose an alarm sound. If you don’t, the alarm will go off but it will not make a sound.

Shit. I went specific measures. I placed the phone on the other side of the room so it would make me get out of bed to shut it off. I did not sleep well. I woke periodically and forced myself back into my pillow because I knew that damn alarm would make a deafening sound at any second! My mom woke me up at 4:30 AM. “Honey, did you forget to set your alarm?” I jumped up and wen to my phone to realize the alarm went off but it was set to play no sound.

Part of me wanted to g for it. I could jump in the car and just try. The reality is I would not have made it. I would have arrived late and mad. What was the point? When things like this happen I have to stop and think about it. Before I shut my eyes last night I prayed that God would guide my travels. I asked God to direct me along my journey and give me safety. I asked God to teach me from experience and allow this weekend to show me growth in spirit. Though, I am not going to race today I’m sure there are a lot of great things that will come of this day and this weekend. I will probably ride somewhere else, I will be able to revise my sermon a little longer, and I will be able to spend more time with my family.  

I think it is important to accept the cards God deals. Especially when we ask God to deal them. As I sit here and think longer about the story I get a little excited that I have perhaps witnessed an answered prayer. I asked God to shape my weekend, protect me, and make the road safe. My iPhone alarm could have been the vehicle God used to do this. As I wrap up this post I feel very blessed and very thankful. And, I must keep in mind that there will be February and March races to look forward to. 

Practice What I Preach

I recently was blessed with the opportunity to preach at a small, lovely church, in a small, quiet, rural town. I always accept these opportunities when possible because these places remind me of home. Regardless of what city I live in or where I call home, I will always have a country boy’s heart. Visiting and preaching at these small towns is a lungful of fresh air away from the urban setting. I have grown fond of the city but every now and then I need a recharge of country air. Preaching at rural churches is just the excuse I require to do so.

The church I was assigned to speak at was an old Cumberland Presbyterian Church on the outskirts of a small city. It was built in 1829 and was one of the denomination’s earliest buildings. Before the church was erected, the land that it resides on was used for revival style camp meetings. These magnetic worship meetings stemmed out of the first Great Awakening and were the product of many protestant denominations. At any rate, the church was old and contained a lot of history. Despite its age the building was in beautiful condition. This told me there was a lot of love in the congregation. Their love for the building shows in its appearance.

Not only did the congregation’s love for their building show but also their love for the fellow person was quite apparent by the hospitality they showed my girlfriend, Rachael and I upon our arrival. We were immediately welcomed and showed around by one of the members. The worship leader, whose father pastored the church in the 1960s, walked me through the liturgy and gave me the opportunity to adjust it if need be. We then found our seats and worship began.

When it came time for me to speak I stood behind the pulpit and delivered a sermon using the Gospel of Luke, chapter 7, verses 1-10. This is the story of the centurion whose servant was deathly ill and he sent message to Jesus. Upon the soldier’s faith, Jesus heals the servant and says, “Not in all of Israel have I see faith like this.” This is commonly used a faith story but, upon studying it, I heard a different message. I felt like it was amazing to hear of how much respect the Roman soldier had for his Jewish servants. He must have really loved them because, despite being a Roman soldier and worshiping Caesar, he built his servants a place of their own to worship. I not only hear a faith story, but a respect story. Then, to reinforce this message, Jesus comes in and gives that respect back to the centurion by fulfilling his request. So, my message to the congregation was to show respect to people irrespective of their race, gender, cultural upbringing, or religious background. I started the homily with an inductive approach by retelling a scene from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. Dr. Jones, Willie Scott, and Little Round are sitting at the table of a royal prince. The three of them are presented with an array of foods they and we could not dream of ingesting. Nevertheless, they showed respect and appreciated the hospitality.

I went on with the sermon and wrapped it up with a benediction in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Then, each of the members came and introduced themselves to Rachael and I. I received a number of compliments on my message, which is always reassuring for any preacher. One lady, an eighty-seven year old elder of the church, complimented me and invited the two of us for lunch. Both feeling quite hungry, we delightfully accepted the offer. She joyfully asked where my car was parked and insisted on riding with us so that she may direct us to her house. Rachael and I made a glance at each other as to say, “When in Rome”. When we arrived at the lady’s house it was like walking into a past experience. It was your typical grandmother’s house as a child. It had an old musty smell, there were little trinkets arranged everywhere, and the only sound was the tick of the old clock on the wall. It was nostalgic. She requested that we have a seat in the living room while she prepared lunch. Her son, who was also the worship leader at church, was present. He sat with us to converse and entertain while lunch was being finalized.

As the three of us talked two things kept going through my head. 1) Why is there not a TV in this TV room? 2) Meat was about to be served. Eleven years have past that pork, beef, or chicken has not entered my digestive system. In fact, fish is the only meat I have eaten in over eleven years. “It’s ready! Ya’ll come in to the kitchen and make your plates,” she said. As I rounded the corner, there it was, a large container of enough pulled pork to feed a family. She looked at us and said, “Ya’ll do like barbecue, right?” Friends, is it a coincidence that I just preached a sermon over respect? “Yes mam, we do!” I replied. When in Rome, Capernaum to be exact, the Roman soldier built a church for his Jewish servants. Rachael, being an avid meat eater, was soaking it up, loving the whole thing. She saw it coming as I did. As we all sat at the dinner table, beautifully arranged with linens, silverware, and the hostess’ best plates, I devoured, not one but, two barbecue sandwiches, potato salad, baked beans, and a deviled egg. A couple of times, as I consumed my pork sandwiches, Rachael smiled and asked, “How is it?” “Delicious!” I replied with joy. Upon finishing our meals we were invited back into the living room (the TV room without a TV) for more conversation. She wanted to know all about us, where we were from, our families, our future, and many other questions. She asked if I had plans of coming back to preach and I assured her that my hope was definite.

After Rachael and I departed we were in a constant laugh about the experience. I have preached in several diversely different churches in the past numerous years but this one has created a memory that will be long lived. I hope someday I can go back to the church and tell of this experience so we may all have the opportunity of a good laugh.

Peace