Wednesday, August 31, 2016

The Day Turned Crisp



It was late September and Jimmy had completed two months of running cross country.  He tried track in middle school but, while never finishing last in a race, he was disappointed with the whole experience.   Now as a freshman in high school, he wanted to try cross country.  It was a new school and new sport.  In Jimmy’s mind, it was a fresh start.  He would put middle school behind him.  He would make a grown up decision and try running again. 
Jimmy never went out and ran like real runners do.  Up to that point, he never developed a love for it.  Still, he could pace himself and still run fast.  Perhaps the mile and half mile races he did in middle school track were too short.  Three mile races in cross country were considerably longer.  Maybe that’s what he needed. 
About a week before school started, Jimmy started running to get in shape for the cross country season.  He would run one mile for his first day.  His mother thought he should wake early in the morning and run but he wanted to run before sunset. His dad simply wanted him to give his all.  Late July in Cedarville, Ohio is still hot.  Jimmy wore shorts, a tank top and an old pair of shoes.  He took off at a quick pace with the belief he would need to be fast to run with high school kids.  Before reaching the end of the block, sweat was stinging his eyes.  He slowed shortly thereafter.
Jimmy didn’t give up.  He continued training.  All he knew was to run and as fast as he could and still feel like he was pacing himself.  Fortunately, he had a good coach and supportive teammates.  He soon learned pacing, how to pick the proper shoes for his feet and racing tactics.  He also learned about hydration and diet.  Being young, all he really cared about was running.  He soon fell in love with it.
On this day, he learned there can be beauty in running.  The coach had the team run 2.5 miles to a park.  Of course, he drove his truck there.  By the time the team arrived, coach had a cone set up close to the truck.  The tailgate was down and the water cooler was there along with cups and a trash can.  As the runners arrived, each according to his pace and ability, they walked and stretched to stay loose. Early in the official team training, Jimmy decided to mimic the actions of the two best runners, Terry and Brian.  He was slower than them and his form wasn’t as smooth but he would follow what they did. 
Jimmy was second to last arriving at the park.  Once everyone had a moment to stretch and get a drink coach began giving instructions.  “Ok guys listen up.  We’re going to do a hill workout.  You’ll start at the cone here and go up this hill.  You can’t see it from here but there is another cone up there.  Go around that cone and then come back to this one.  You’ll go up and down for 12 minutes.  Then you’ll get  10 minutes rest and do another 12 minutes.  Then 8 minutes rest and then after you do another 12 minutes, you’re done.  Rest up until you’re ready to go back to school.  Go back at your pace.  Once back at school, stretch, shower and go home. 
Once everyone was ready, they lined up at a behind the cone.  Coach said, “On your marks, get set..oh yeah, wait a sec.  Attack the hill.  I mean you push going up that hill.  Relax coming down but don’t slack off.  You will get stronger doing this.  This is a tough workout but come sectionals, you will be tough runners.  All right?  On your mark, get set, Go!”
Each took off at a controlled sprint.  Terry and Brian went immediately to the front.  The remaining runners pushed up the hill.  Jimmy was unsure of what pace to set.  Going up and down for twelve minutes seemed like a long time even though he had already run for an hour without stopping.  He wanted to have energy for the last set and he still needed to run 2.5 miles back to school. 
He could just see the top of the cone when Terry and Brian passed him on their return down the hill.  They looked determined.  Jimmy felt scared.  He didn’t want to make a fool of himself.  He tried to keep contact with three other harriers who were a little better than him.  Throughout the first 12 minute set, Jimmy felt he was barely hanging as he sucked in precious oxygen.  He was about halfway returning to the cone when coach called time.
Rather than walk, he slowed pace a little but continued to the cone.  Coach smiled and said, “Good job, Jimmy, but keep going to the end and don’t let the hill or workout scare you.  Stare it down, man.  Stare it down.” 
Terry and Brian were stretching.  After drinking some water, Jimmy began stretching.  The next set was like the first only Jimmy wasn’t afraid.  He was still concerned about running out of gas at the end but he was determined to attack the hill.  If coach called time before he finished the set, he would pick up the pace until the end. 
Once the hill workout was finished, Jimmy felt spent.  Everyone leaned over with hands on knees breathing heavily.  The air had turned crisp as the sun was about 30 to 40 minutes from setting.  Each breath was seen and each face was red.  Coach made sure everyone drank water, then he began collecting his things.  Terry and Brian started for school. 
Jimmy felt he had nothing left to get back to school.  He gave everything he had in the workout.  Everyone had left but Jimmy when the coach returned to the truck with the cone from the top of the hill.  “You ok, Jimmy?  He asked. 
Not wanting to admit how tired he was Jimmy replied, “That was the hardest workout I’ve ever had.” 
Suspecting Jimmy’s concerns coach advised, “Jimmy, you did great today.  I want you to know that.  You did everything I asked you to do.  Now,  I want you to run back to the school but I want you to focus on pace and keeping your body working as smooth and effortlessly as possible.  Every movement should propel you forward.  Not one movement will work against you.  Everything needs to be in perfect harmony.  You got it?”
“Got it, coach.  Thanks”
Jimmy began a slow jog up the road and out of the park.  With each step, he envisioned how his foot would move from the heel to the toe and how the toe pushed off the ground.  Each movement of his arms was in concert with the movements of his legs.  Soon, he felt himself increasing in pace.  Yes, he was tired but, somehow, his body wanted to go more.  It wanted to go faster.  Before reaching the school, he passed the three teammates who paced him in the hill workout.  They were walking. 
Terry and Brian had finished stretching.  Seeing Jimmy before the other three, Terry called out, “Way ta go, Jimmy!”  Brian gave him a thumbs up.  Pride filled his breast as Jimmy began stretching.  He viewed his surroundings.  The school had an old wagon with some weeds growing around it.  Sitting on the sidewalk and stretching his hamstrings, he gazed at the wagon.  He glanced at steam rising from his arms and then back to wagon.  A bluebird alighted on the wagon.  It seemed to look at him.  Cool, crisp air, autumn colors, and a wonderful fatigue seared into his brain.  For Jimmy, that image would remain indelible for the rest of his life. 


A Break Does a Body Good

I realize this a boring, rambling post.  Just some things I have to say.  I don’t typically talk specifics about where I work.  I am happy to be employed at Delta.  The airline industry has certainly had its ups and downs.  I’ve been here long enough to see some dark times.  For those who don’t know, my job is directly tied to the operation.  My colleagues and I specifically work to keep flights operating.  If a flight attendant or pilot is late or missing for any reason, I have coworkers who are miracle workers in getting new crew members to the plane.  If you need an airplane, I’m one of the people who will deliver. 

Since August 10th, I’ve had 4 days off from work.  I was fortunate enough to miss the day of and day after the computer outage.  On my Monday, I told my Systems Operations Manager that, now that I was here, things would get better.  That day they somewhat were.  August 11th was a different story.  Sorry, no details but it was the 2nd worst day I’ve had working that particular fleet.  The worst was largely due to things the person before me couldn’t get to and it left a lot for me to catch up. 

I’ve had a 3 day week, 4 day week, 5 day week and 6 day week.  I know, I know.  Some of you feel so terribly bad for me to work 3 and 4 day weeks.  Please know  I work 12 hour days.  Ok, you still aren’t impressed.  Keep in mind, for those who work 8 hour days, when you work 4 of them.  You are halfway through your day.  I’m up to a fourth.  When we work 6 hours, you have 2 left but I’m only half way.  You are walking out the door at 8 but I still have 4 more.  I’ve worked this shift for several years and do like it.  Still, 12 hours is a long day. 

For the last 2 days, I was fortunate to take part in a program where I could meet people from other work areas.  It was the first 2 days of my work week.  Today is my Friday.   I’ve basically worked every airline job you can think of except pilot and flight attendant and mechanic.  It was nice to connect with people who do jobs I used to do.  Things seem much easier in those jobs now.  I met mechanics from Salt Lake City and Seattle, flight attendants from Atlanta and New York City, a Passenger Service Agent from Dallas-Fort Worth, a man who was impeccably dressed from Customer Care. 

Many of the company leaders gave us information about the company.  More than anything, they drove home the point that their philosophy is if they take care of us, we will take care of our customers.  As someone needs positive feedback, it was a breath of fresh air. 

My oldest son flew in last night.  My youngest son turns 22 today.  My parents flew in this morning.  The last 2 days were basically days off (with pay).  Now I’m about to have 4 days off.  This is the 300th post on my blog AND I hit a goal for the total number of visitors since I started the blog.  I won’t say how many.  Some probably get that many in a couple days. Oh yeah, work provided lunch (and a snow cone) and a massage.  They just announced there are leftovers.   I already need a nap. 


Thank you all for reading what I post.  For those who return for more, I have a hug for you. 

Saturday, August 27, 2016

Healing Has Come

There is pain that runs deeper
And yet the knife is twisted
There is a desert that sucks your life
And brine to quench your thirst
No one imagines it will come to this

When the healing comes
When the healing comes

Shattered beyond broken
and cold wind scatters
Tears unending
Only to sob more
No one imagines it will come to this 

Then the healing comes
Then the healing comes

Retreating clouds and you are
upon the mountaintop
Now you can clearly see
Scaly blinders are removed
A soul reborn
Life, light, love
Warmth, gentleness, goodness

The healing has come
The healing has come


Duane Windell Phillips
Copyright August 2016
#brokenness #healing #poetry #poem

Friday, August 26, 2016

The Choice is Yours

The choice is yours
Open the doors
Give up the fight
Let dawn the light

A word gives life
also cause strife
what do you choose?
what will you lose?


Duane Windell Phillips
Copyright August 2016

Good News/Bad News

Good News:  I ran for the first time in a year
Bad News:  My back is reminding me why I took a year off

Good News:  I tried running on the balls of my feet, which, I’m told is better for you
Bad News:  A member of the YMCA staff came to me as I ran on the treadmill with concerns about the apparent seizure I was having
 
Good News:  My calves didn’t cramp or tingle while I ran
Bad News:  My left knee hurt at the end

Good News:  When I run, I stretch a lot afterwards
Bad News:  After I run I have to stretch a lot or my back won’t let me move

Good News:  I may write more things about running since I miss it
Bad News:  You will probably see teardrops on your computer screen

Good News:  More than likely, I will run again someday and complain about my back being stiff later
Bad News:  You’ll have to deal with me complaining about my back being stiff after running
 
 

Thursday, August 25, 2016

Sleep


Sleep, oh blissful sleep
How I love to count the sheep
Sleep, oh blessed slumber
How I want to count the number

Drifting off to lands uncharted
Seeing dear loved ones departed
Magic flows and spins on high
Makes me move, hover, fly

Darkest dangers and fears await
And I cannot unlock the gate
Trapped within the web of fear
Even asleep I shed a tear

 Lovely sleep where my mind renews
And my awesomeness accrues
Sleep is grand and you can scoff
I love sleep even when alarms go off


Duane Windell Phillips
Copyright August 2016


#poetry #poem #sleep

Friday, August 19, 2016

Yolanda and The Little Boy

If you are connected to any type of media outlet, you may have seen this picture. 



It is a haunting reminder of what mankind can to do other humans.  Omran Daqneesh was buried under rubble following an airstrike in Qaterji, Syria. When I look at Omran in this photogragh, I see a little face that reflects unimaginable thoughts.  Why are we drawn to this image?  Why does it stir something within us?  The picture reminds me of an interaction my wife and I had in Guatemala last month.

Yolanda, a single mom of 2 children whose husband abandoned them, had a little stand where she made and sold tortillas all day long.  This was her livelihood and means for providing for her family.  She gave us a large stack of tortillas and refused any payment.  Her tortillas are the best I have ever tasted and each was perfectly formed and exactly like the previous one. It was on our last day after finishing the home we were there to build Yolanda asked my wife to pray that she, too, could get such a home built for her.  Once Maria had translated her words to me, my Spanish isn’t as good as it should be, I wanted to hug her and say we would move heaven and earth to ensure she would get a home. All she wanted was prayer. 


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What does Yolando, a Guatemalan woman living in poverty with no bombs falling around her, have to do with Omran Daqneesh, a little boy injured in Syria?  They are both statistics. 
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Why was I so moved?  I could look her in the eyes.  I saw and experienced the kindness in her heart.  In spite of the poverty of this town, everyone we met was happy and giving.  Her simple request was our prayers for a house for her and her children.  I wanted to do more but we promised to pray.  We have been praying Yolanda and her children would get a home.  I would love to be one of the people on that build.

What does Yolando, a Guatemalan woman living in poverty with no bombs falling around her, have to do with Omran Daqneesh, a little boy injured in Syria?  They are both statistics.  Wait a minute?  They are not statistics!  In the case of Omran Daqneesh, the whole world has seen him.  We now know who he is and what he suffered. That right there, is the difference.  We know who he is.  My wife and I and those with us know Yolanda.  Statistics are not known.  I have come to realize people are not statistics when you have looked them in the eyes.  I cannot dehumanize someone I know to be like me.  As humans, we cannot look human need and suffering in the eyes and not be moved or changed.  We must do something.  We either must take action or quench the burning in our hearts and go on with our own selfish lives. 

Will our seeing and learning about Omran Daqneesh finally shine bigger and brighter spotlights on the violence in Syria?  Will our prayers for Yolanda make a difference?  Will people finally stop ignoring the suffering and need in the world?  One person on this tiny sphere cannot save the world but maybe, just maybe, one by one by one, we can meet needs, bridge gaps, offer hope and shine lights in the darkness. 

 

 

Munich and Romania

This is the first of a multi-part series based on my observations from a recent Eastern European trip my wife and I took. In each I will sh...