noodlestatic

Great Leadville Video

Here's a Link to great video of this year's duel between Dave Weins and Lance Armstrong. 

Leadville 2008

Friday night, Tom, Steve, and I drove to Leadville to volunteer at the Leadville 100 Mountain Bike Race. From our original team of five last year, only Phil Schweizer was riding this year.

We worked with Gary and Linda Adams' team at the Twin Lakes aid station. Tom and I had volunteered with Gary and Linda at the Mayqueen station of the 100 mile ultramarathon run last year. The volunteers of these Leadville events are an amazing example of what happens when people come together. One local who would probably prefer to remain unnamed told me, "Like most small towns, there's a lot of fussing and fighting, but we call a truce in the summer to make these races happen."

The primary drama of course, was the appearance of Lance Armstrong, coming off three weeks of serious altitude training in nearby Aspen. Colorado home boy and perennial winner Dave Wiens was his usual low-key self, not taking his legendary status seriously. Others will write about the details of the race, I'll just hit the highlights.

As we were approaching the cutoff for the 60 mile mark, we got the word--ten mile from the finish, Dave Wiens powered up and left Armstrong to enjoy his own company. Dave crossed the finish line in 6:45.47, thirteen minutes faster than his victory over Floyd Landis last year. Oh, and he rode the last mile on a flat rear tire.

Lance was 1:56 behind, then it was another thirty minutes before the third place rider showed up.

Other friends and acquaintances were there. Our teammate Phil Schwiezer overcame a crash that necessitated a complete wheel change, and a flat to still enjoy a PR of 8:20 and change. This was his first race in the 50 plus group, and he placed 4th in class. It was a tough, disappointing finish for Larry DeWitt, who broke a frame just days before the race and competed on a borrowed bike. Rob Lucas    is on the comeback trail after a long recoveryfrom the damage done a few years back in the Race Across America. The Fat Cylist   was there, finishing in just a hair over 10 hours on a single-speed. If you follow his blog, you'll know this is after losing his wife, Susan, to breast cancer just a few months ago.   I can't find final results yet, but 74-year-old Bill Purcell was looking strong at 60 miles. Last year was the first time he failed to make the 12 hour cutoff, so he was back to make amends.

There are hundreds of other stories of personal heroics and tragedy, which is what makes this race so special. As for me, it was a tough day. I had just about come to terms with last year's failure, but now, after experiencing the magic again, I am struggling with inner conflict. After training my butt off last year, even if I hadn't experienced mechanical failure, I would have had a hard time making the later time cutoffs. Which is what happens when you take up a sport in your late 40s that others have given their lives to. My technical skills are inadequate for riding fast in such tight company on such sketchy terrain. My bike is wholly inadequate for this kind of riding. And in spite of the weight I lost, there's at least 25 more that could come off. All of these come in the category of "so-what" excuses that could be overcome. Not by next year, but in a 2-3 year plan. So I have to decide if I want to live with regret, or get a plan together and get busy.

Ten Things I've Learned in Kaua'i so Far

Since we landed at Lihue airport Tuesday, July 1, here are the important life lessons I've learned here in Kaua'i.

1) No matter how harmless geckos may be, the sight of one runnning across the ceiling will create pandemonium among the Rowell women every time.

2) Shave ice on top of macademian nut ice cream is nearly suicide by sugar. And some folks add a little "snow on the mountain" by pouring condensed sweetened milk on top.

3) Pupus are appetizers, not what you think they are.

4) The rainbows are bigger here. Not the fish, but the actual refractions of sunlight.

5) The ukulele is far cooler than I ever thought it was, especially when played by Jake Shimabukuro, who you can see on YouTube and whom we will see live tomorrow night at the Concert in the Sky.

6) No one you know is as laid back as the average waiter or waitress on Kaua'i. I will know I have reached the desired state of relaxation when I am not bothered by the slow service.

7) There is always someone bigger and whiter than you at the beach.

8) If you're going to wax your back, make sure you go down below the beltline. The guy at Poipu today with the butt beard hanging out of his shorts was distracting.

9) In spite of the hype, Kona coffee is pretty bland. Give me some Tanzanian Peaberry any day.

10) Driveways are much steeper where they don't have snow.

More valuable life lessons from Kaua'i coming soon. 

Africa part 2

First of all, I must apologize for what became a rant on my last post. I don't want to let the fact that British Airways continues to set a new standard for poor customer service obscure the reality of a great trip.

So very briefly, we got to Johannesburg with no luggage. That is, I had no luggage. Jim was wise enough to bring a few changes of clothes in a carry-on. I had committed the cardinal sin of checking everything except my shoulder bag, which had a baggie with some travel size toiletries, 2 books, my camera, and the notes from which I would teach. We spent Friday in Jo'burg, hosted by Karl and Jenny. Karl is the leader of the OC (One Challenge) Africa team, with whom we partner.

A brief word of explanation: our church's role in Africa is to equip and resource national (indigenous) movements that multiply holistic churches--churches that tend not only to the souls, but to the minds and bodies of people as well. There are so many great organizations that provide food, meds, and other resources to communities in need. But sooner or later, all those NGOs pack up and leave.

But we have seen, both in Africa, India and other places, that a holistic church in that community can literally be the difference between life and death. Our original intent for this trip was to go to Zimbabwe, and work again with Zimnet, a national, African-led movement that has planted over 10,000 churches, across denominational, tribal, and political lines, for the betterment of Zimbabweans.

(Note: I will be guarded in this blog about commenting on the current crisis in Zimbabwe for reasons you must understand. I desire to return when possible, and many people have been forbidden to enter because of their commentary on the current administration.)

After we'd bought tickets, we discovered the Zimbabwean elections were scheduled, and our hosts there thought it best to reschedule the pastor's training and we moved just south of the border, to Limpopo province in northeastern South Africa. Two Zim pastors, P.F. and Emmanuel came down to work with us.

Back in Jo'burg, Karl took me to a local mall, where I got several changes of underwear, then we went to Craig's home. Craig led our trip to Zimbabwe last year, and of all the guys on the team, is closest to my size. I borrowed two pairs of chinos and a few shirts, and was good to go. We enjoyed the evening with the Teicherts and Dan and Janelle, the newest members of the team.

Early the next morning we hit the road for Limpopo. Ground travel is the best way to see Africa, air travel distorts the size of the continent. Limpopo is roughly the size of Colorado, and like Colorado, offers a great variety of terrain and vegetation. On the way to the town of Gyani, we passed through some beautiful citrus orchards, and a lot of cultivated farmland.

The weather was pleasant--at the end of the hot, wet summer, moving into fall. High temps in the 80s F. After another long, cold winter in Colorado, it was welcome.

Thomas and Anna Mapophe live just outside Gyani in a former Afrikaaner neighborhood called Kremetart, which is Afrikaans for "the frosting on the cake." During apartheid, this area was off limits to blacks, but is now a middle class community of about 80 % black, 20% everyone else.

Thomas is a miracle in action. Born the son of two practioners of traditional African worship/medicine (the term "witch doctors" is widely used and accepted), at the age of 20 or so he had a dream. In that dream, a man appeared to him and his father, and began to teach about a different way of spirituality and how to encounter the one, true God. Thomas awoke and asked his father about it. His father was shaken when he found out they had had the same dream, but refused to discuss it. Two years later, Thomas met the first Christians he'd ever encountered, and as they began to talk about Jesus, he realized that they man they were discussing was the same man who had come to him in a dream a few years later. Some time passed, wild oats were sown, but Thomas then became a follower of Jesus, and has had a tremendous impact on his community ever since. While there, we met with the mayor, the chief of police, and several other community leaders, all of whom are Christ-followers through Thomas' mentoring.

Thomas and Anna have planted about 80 churches in the Limpopo province, and those churches are all created with the DNA of multiplication. These are not large, American-style megachurches, but usually small groups of 20-50 who meet wherever space is available (See pictures on my facebook). For the next five days, we spoke in these congregations. Monday through Thursday during the day, we hosted two two-day training events for pastors, one in a township in Gyani, the other about two hours away in the township of Namakgale (naw-mah-holly) outside of Phalaborowa. The topics included marriage and family, counseling, conflict resolution, leadership development, preaching, and self-care for leaders (my passion). The days were packed solid. Then on Sunday and in the evenings, we visited small churches in the rural villages and spoke.

The biggest takeaway for me during these days was my annual reminder that when you get behind ethnicity, socio-economics, pyschographics, and all the stuff, people are just people wherever you go. Pastors struggle with the same issues everywhere. Families struggle with raising their kids, marriages face similar challenges. Sure there are cultural issues, but even when the cultural issues are different, there's a  common biblical corrective to all our interpersonal, spiritual, and communal needs.

When you go to a place where people can't hide behind all the comforts that wealth can bring; when you go to a place where human rights are routinely ignored, when you encounter people who have next to nothing, that's where you really discover faith. American faith is...I don't know, something else. But we routinely heard and saw some incredible examples of people living in utter dependence on God, and sacrificially living so that others might be served.

Mother Theresa became the global example of the power of servanthood, but there are thousands like her that will never make it on the world's stage. More next time on some of these beautiful people we met and the evidence of God around us!

Africa part 1

I got home last night about 8:30 after 13 days away. One of my associate pastors and friends, Jim Vaughan, went with me to South Africa on a ministry trip. I'll be blogging about it for a while, telling my favorite stories rather than try to give a running itinerary.

Our tale begins with the evil that is British Airways, at the new den of their iniquity, Terminal 5 at Heathrow Airport. We left Denver on March 26, flying over night to Heathrow Terminal 4. We got a day room at the Hilton, caught 4 good hours of sleep, then headed over to see what was being hailed as "an architectural wonder," and "the future of air travel." "How exciting," we had been told, "to be there on opening day." What we saw when we got there was chaos on an epic scale. Every news channel on earth was there. The queues (lines to Americans) of angry people went out the doors.

But we weren't worried, we had received our boarding passes in Denver and our luggage was checked through. This is when we encountered problem #1. Seems that the printer in Denver and the scanner in London were incompatible. A very weary, harrassed, and cranky security guy sent us to the end of one of dozens of queues. After almost an hour in line, we had new boarding passes. Security was no worse than Denver on a busy day, and we'd allowed plenty of time, so we still weren't too worried. We had a bite to eat and waited for the gate for our flight to be listed.

First message came up as we finished dinner. "2 hour delay." We both had good books, so we settled in to wait. I got up and went to the men's room and when I came back, the board was flashing "final boarding for flight XXX" and the gate number was listed. We were a 15 minute obstacle course away, but we made a dash for it. We grabbed our stuff and moved our butts down escalators, on shuttles and back up escalators to the other section of the terminal.

Our gate was the one farthest away (naturally) so by the time we got there, we were sweaty and stressed. Except there was no one else there. No BA person at the gate, at least, and only 3-4 other passengers. The board there said "stand by" with no other explanation. It was like a scene out of the twilight zone.

Was there a two hour delay, or had our flight left without us? Or...had we entered some very different dimension of time and space?

It took a while to find out that there was only a delay, but in the meantime, I'm getting cranky. That happens when I'm sleep-deprived. The television is showing a live interview with the president of British Airways, apologizing for the mess, while making it clear the fault lay with the BAA, British Airline Authority, who owns and operates the terminal. I heard later that Naomi Campbell, fellow super model, was arrested for her behavior. "This was not our finest hour," said the pres. You got that right, mister.

It was at this point that they started broadcasting that all flights for the rest of the day would be "carry on luggage only." Little did we know that somewhere in the bowels of the terminal, the "state of the art" baggage system had gone on a drunken rampage. Before it was over, more than 20,000 bags were snarled in a tangle. (As of this writing, more than two weeks has passed, and I've heard no word on my luggage.)

Meanwhile, back at our gate, people were starting to drift over, but there's still no info on our flight, at least in our section of the terminal. I walked down about 10 minutes to a customer service station, where there were no customer service representatives. I finally went to another gate and found someone who told me our flight was delayed indefinitely, and we should stand by for details over the broadcast system.

Finally, at about 10:30 pm, we started to board. We left Heathrow without one single piece of luggage on board. On our dirty, unkempt 747 we found the world's most sullen, impersonable flight crew. Our flight attendant had evidently started her career with the Wright brothers, right after she dropped out of charm school. She actually slung our dinner trays to us with a growl. I really wanted some coffee with dessert, but she scared me so bad, I was afraid to ask for it. (Later that night, she woke me to see if my seat belt was on, and at the sound of her voice, I think a little trickle went down my leg.)

When the captain came on to welcome us aboard, he was quite pointed in putting the blame on BAA, and promised to make up time as we flew. I hoped he was capable of doing just that. I had a middle seat for an 11 hour plus flight.

(Next time--the bad news in Jo'burg)

Forest Gump and me

So we were on our way to South Africa, where we are spending 10 days training pastors, and discussing a distribution system for AIDs meds in Zimbabwe once "the change comes," when we passed through Heathrow in London on the very day that they opened the $17 billion terminal 5. There we may have lost all our luggage for good, most of which was resources for these African pastors.

It is a beautiful building, if you can get past the fact that down in its bowels are as many as 25,000 bags that will have to be sorted by hand. I hope we get the books and stuff before we leave Africa. I was so looking forward to seeing these pastors eyes' light up when they saw the resources we bought them.

Next topic--Zimbabwean elections. Mugabe has dismissed his entire cabinet amid fears that many will defect and back Simon Mukoni who left the ZANU-PF party to run against Mugabi. Elections are tomorrow--early reports say the country is like dry tinder just waiting for a match. The elections will surely ignite these beautiful, gentle people. We are staying in South Africa just south of the border.

Winter is finally ov... no its back

Today its snowing,,yet again. But yesterday was a beautiful day. Temperatures in the mid-40s, clear blue skies, wind--well, tolerable. I couldn't quite make it work to ride with Tom and Phil, who took a monster ride yesterday. But I did get a 2 hour loop on the ranch roads by myself. I rode hard, really pushing the roller coaster hills. When I got home, my legs were cooked--in that awesome way you feel when you've pushed yourself to the limit.

On the ride I saw some elk, a bald eagle, and a rather large rodent-like animal scurrying away--I think it was a badger. Pike's Peak was all-white, even the crags were frosted with snow. Horses were grazing all along the way, and two were rearing up, pawing at each other, just for fun.

I was keenly aware of how blessed I am to be able to live in such a gorgeous location. I can appreciate the beauty of just about every place. Our life in ministry has taken us to the prairies of the midwest, the saguaros of the Sonoran desert, the marshlands of western Chicago, and the hardwood hills of midldle Tennessee. While we made some great friends in every location, no place ever touched my heart like here. So as we near our five-year anniversary, to God I say, "thanks!"

Why I Feel so Ambivalent about Politics

In his book, Ministries of Mercy, Tim Kellar reminds me why government is so ineffectual at addressing the social injustices our our society, and why the church needs to get back to the business of demonstrating the love of Christ, not just beating people over the head with our Bibles.

First he quotes Francis Shaeffer. "Christians may be at times, 'co-belligerents with the Left or the Right, but never allies. If there is social injustice, say there is social injustice. If we need order, say we need order...But do not align yourself as though you are in either of these camps: You are an ally of neither. The church of the Lord Jesus Christ is different from either--totally different."

Kellar goes on to say, "The ideology of the Left believes big government and social reform will solve social ills, while the Right believes big business and economic growth will do it. The Left expects a citizen to be held legally accountable for the use of his wealth, but totally autonomous in other areas, such as sexual morality. The Right expects a citizen to be held legally accountable in areas of personal morality, but totally autonomous in the use of wealth. The North American 'idol'--radical individualism--lies beneath both ideologies. A Christian sees either 'solution' as fundamentally humanistic and simplistic."

When I was in college I heard Dietrich Bonhoeffer's brother-in-law speak. Bonhoeffer was a Lutheran pastor who took a public stand against Nazism and was executed by Hitler in the concentration camp at Flossenburg just weeks before the camp was liberated by the Allied Forces. He spoke about how quickly the religious leaders of Germany got in bed with the Nazi party as Hitler was on the rise. Only when it was too late did they realize they were sleeping with the devil.

When I see the religous right and religious left lining up with the political right and political left, it makes me wonder where our faith really is--in the transforming power of Christ, or in 21st century American politics? In the years since I first voted for a president (Jimmy Carter, 1976) I have never seen the church well-served by political investment. I have seen the church lose all credibility with the greater society, because unfortunately, the media has no problem finding strident, ill-tempered, dogmatic, fat, white men who speak as though they represent all who claim to follow Christ.

My favorite quote on the subject: "Mixing politics and religion is like mixing manure and ice cream. It doesn't hurt the manure at all, but it sure doesn't help the ice cream." (I guess you could take that both ways, depending on whether your disdain was greater for the church or politics!)

Certainly Christians have engaged the political process to bring about social reform (abolition and civil rights were both considered 'liberal' causes in their day and pastors were thrown from their congregations for supporting them), but to align oneself with either party seems dangerous and narrow-minded to me.

I will certainly exercise my responsibility as a citizen to vote, but I'm not expecting government at any level to address the deeper issues people face. Neither economic growth nor more government programs can match the impact the church could have if we would identify the immediate needs in our own communities, then roll up our sleeves and get on the solution side.

Small things done with great love can change the world. When you get down to the root, that's the only thing that ever has.

Ten Rules for Dating My Daughter

Since I am currently teaching on relationships, I will be posting some of my favorite articles on marriage, parenting, and friendships. I do not know who wrote the following. It was not me, but it could have been me.

[To be memorized by any male before dating my daughters]

Rule One: If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking anyone up.

Rule Two: You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.

Rule Three: I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes to big, and I will not object.  However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact come off during the course of you date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.

Rule Four: I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "Barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate; when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I WILL kill you.

Rule Five: It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is: "early".

Rule Six: I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.

Rule Seven: As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process than can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like change the oil in my car?

Rule Eight: The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka -- zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.

Rule Nine: Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dim-witted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

Rule Ten: Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi. When the Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit the car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car -- there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window will be mine.

Always rooting for the underdog

We had a bunch of friends over to watch the Superbowl yesterday. No one who came had any allegiance whatsoever to either team. No Bostonians or New Yorkers in the crowd. In fact, most of us are pretty casual football fans. Other than keeping up with the Broncos enough to make conversation, I didn't watch more than 2 or 3 complete games all season.

We thought it was about the friends, the food, and the commercials (loved the one about the Clydesdale and the dalmation). But the first time Tom Brady got knocked on his butt we all cheered--and realized we did have a bias. I could not have imagined a scenario in which I would care about the New York Giants, but there I was.

It was good to see a team (Giants) show up ready to play their game, without giving much credence to the hype about their "perfect," ie. unbeaten opponent. Good for Manning for stepping up and leading with clarity and courage. He will never again stand in the shadow of his father or older brother.

David and Goliath. The Spartans and the Persians.  The American colonies and the British Empire. Al Gore and the oil industry. Now to the long list of underdogs we add Eli Manning and his Giants. Hail the victorious underdog!

(My inner editor is telling me that Leonid's Spartans were eventually killed, but they held the line long enough for Greece to unite. At least that's the Hollywood version of history)