Promise of the Second Wind It's Never Too Late to Pursue God's Best

Chapter One Huffing Toward 44th Street By Bill: Like about 67 million other people my age and weight, I'm going to get back in shape. I really am. Don't laugh; I'm serious about this. In fact, I've begun a new daily routine. I happen to live near the ocean, and so at some point each day that I'm not traveling, I make my way over to the beach and ... ... I RUN. Maybe that's a little strong. Actually, I run. Of course, if you really press me, I'd have to say I run/walk. Or, more accurately, I run/WALK. Okay, I WALK. But lately I've been making headway. I honestly have been moving from a brisk walk to a solid jog during more and more portions of my beach journey. I run close to the water, where the sand is wet and thus more solid. It's easier on my massive hulk than slogging through loose sand, and it's a natural progression from the first part of my trek. The first thing I do when I hit the beach is search for the prettiest seashell I can find. I hold it in my hand; it helps me focus on the reasons I'm hoofing through the sand. It also helps me zero in on a particular prayer request that I bring before the Lord each day as I'm running. One day it might be something about one of my five children. Another day it's a vocational issue. Sometimes I pray for my wife, or for a particular aspect of my own life. Holding on to that shell is the closest thing this lifelong Protestant will ever get to a set of rosary beads. Just the simple act of handling that shell holds my attention on the request. Another reason I find a seashell is that it reminds me that despite the pain I feel during this beach run, there's still something of beauty to be taken from it. It's kind of "stop and smell the roses," only at the beach. When I get back home, I add the shell to a lovely glass container on my desk. As the glass fills up, I am further inspired to keep running each day. Hitting the Wall That's the fun part. Now let's get back to the rest of my reality: I hate to run. Always have. Probably always will. I've struggled with extra poundage my entire life. I have no ambition to do a marathon, join a jogging club, or qualify as a poster boy for 0% body fat. A typical journey finds me briskly walking the beach as far as a certain pier, about thirty-five to forty minutes away. I touch one of the pilings there, then turn back and head toward home, running as I go. It's not pretty. I huff and puff. Passers-by give me a look that says, That guy could be making his final run! I pant. I sweat. The longer I run, the more pain I feel. First it's localized, in my legs and my lungs. Soon the pain invades my head, my arms, my stomach, my feet. If I concentrate hard enough, I think I can feel my eyebrows hurt. Things start happening mentally. You'd better stop, my brain says to me, first subtly, then screaming. You'll feel so much better walking. It's more comfortable. It makes better sense. When I first began this regimen, I would listen to my brain and quit running. But then I arrived home feeling deflated, discouraged and defeated. So I made myself a goal that I would run just a little farther back down the beach each day. You knowbaby steps. That idea worked for a while, but I would hit the wall at a particular point that was brutal. The city even erected a monument, memorializing where my pain was most deeply felt.... It was the lifeguard stand at 44th Street. I grew to despise that lifeguard stand. The sight of its two "4"s painted next to each other on the side of the large wooden hut sickened me. I'm not sure I'm cutButterworth, Bill is the author of 'Promise of the Second Wind It's Never Too Late to Pursue God's Best', published 2003 under ISBN 9781578567614 and ISBN 1578567610.