Josh Cox: Miracles 50
and A Boy Named Sue
(Elite Athlete Blog - Entry #8)
Posted May 1st, 2008 at 4:00 PM by Josh Cox
Section: News & Results, Marathons, Track & Field, Elite Athlete Blogs, Josh Cox
Welcome to the official blog of U.S. marathon runner Josh Cox. Every other Wednesday visit http://joshcox.thefinalsprint.com for Cox’s latest blog entry and for more information, also please visit: www.joshcox.com
“I believe in miracles.
I believe in a better world for me and you.
Oh, I believe in miracles.
I believe in a better world for me and you.”
-The Ramones,
I Believe in Miracles“Son, this world is rough
And if a man’s gonna make it, he’s gotta be tough
And I know I wouldn’t be there to help you along.
So I give ya that name and I said good-bye
I knew you’d have to get tough or die
And it’s that name that helped to make you strong.”
- A Boy Named Sue
(A song written by Shel Silverstein made famous by Johnny Cash. A song about a dad who names his son Sue and leaves - the son vows to exact his revenge for his awful name. He finds his dad, fights him, his dad gets up, smiles, and explains why he named him Sue. )“The secret of man’s being is not only to live but to have something to live for.”
-Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Russian literary giant & Casino fiend
Somewhere around 41 miles, in the high hills of Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains the race came undone. I could no longer run; a humbling experience for a self-assured 22-year-old college senior who, several hours earlier, had thought running a 50-mile race was a good idea. For the first time in my life I wished I were jogging – oh the horror – anything but the “J-word.” But alas, I was doing the S-word. Shuffling. Shuffling is what we runner’s do, we bypass the jog and enter straight into the shuffle. It’s part of the unwritten code – run slow, shuffle, but never, ever jog.
It was strange, I prayed about this race, I had this peace, I was certain it was something I was supposed to do. Finishing, much less winning, seemed unlikely. I shuffled along; my stride barely cleared the floor.
Almost to the aid station, I thought. Just keep moving, you’re still in second place.
A stride later my foot caught the edge of a rock and down I went. The heels of my palms and the front of my knees caught the brunt. There I was, on all fours, staring down at the trail.
I’ll never finish. I’m dehydrated. My legs are shot. I’ve never raced farther than 13 miles; this was a colossal mistake. Why do I do these things? I’m so stupid. I could just stay here. Yes… that’s the answer. I’ll roll onto my back, stare at the sky, other runners will come, some will offer to help, others will pass without saying a word – it will be a modern day Good Samaritan story, except when they offer to carry me I’ll refuse, I’ll explain that I’d rather stay and lay than call my mom and tell her that I couldn’t finish the only race I ever dedicated to her. Soon, the ants will come; they’ll crawl over me, I won’t flinch because I just won’t care…
Wait, I guess I’m getting ahead of myself here. Allow me to back up; you see it all started when I met this guy Horton… On second thought, let’s go back a little further. This is the where we’ll begin…
It was early Fall 1997. I was in my fifth year at Virginia’s Liberty U. Being a former high school soccer player whose weekly mileage topped out at 35; I had been slow to ramp up the miles in college. But over time I worked up to the occasional 80-mile week and this fall had even broken the century mark once. The previous spring I ran and won my first track 10k down at Florida State. The farther I went, the better I felt. I liked running far.
That fall I was student teaching at the elementary and high school levels. My 4 years of NCAA Cross Country eligibility had been exhausted and with no races on the docket I managed steady training and quality workouts with my speedy Kenyan and Canadian training partners.
Fall break was fast approaching, a weekend when Liberty’s own, Dr. David Horton puts on the best trail run in the East, The Mountain Masochist 50 miler. Each December, Dr. Horton, a man with a viper’s wit and the look of a weathered cowboy, would take a handful of us cross-country guys up to the hills for 20 “Horton miles.” (Rule of thumb – if Horton says you ran 10, it was probably 11. 20 = 22 30 = 33 and so on and so forth.) During these 20 milers he would mention his race, “You know, the race course is just like this trail here.” He would allude to it in class, “Josh ran well this past weekend, maybe soon he’ll try a MAN’S race.” Or when he’d see us running around town, “Betcha can’t do that for 50!” The guy was always baiting me. Playing to the ego. I wasn’t falling for it. It’s not that I couldn’t do it, I just didn’t want to. 50 miles? Lunacy.
Many of my readers are not hardcore runners so I think I may have lost them back when I mentioned “50” and “miler” in the same sentence. Let’s lay some groundwork.
Foundation 1: Despite all whimpering, wailing, and weeping, in spite of my many prayers, pleas, and petitions, God has seen fit to continue developing my patience by having men and women alike ask the asinine question, “How far is your next marathon?”
Ladies and Gentlemen, the marathon is 26 miles, 385 yards – always has been, always will be. There are no 6.2 mile marathons – those are called 10ks.
I feel better. Here’s to hoping the previous provocation permeates into the public and resolves the problem.
Ultra: prefix
1. beyond; on the other side of
2. extreme; to an extreme degree
noun - an extremist.
Foundation 2: An ultra-marathon is any distance over the traditional 42.195 Kilometers. (I give equal time to metric distances – my international readers can thank me in the comments.)
Before becoming one of Jerry’s kids and heading to the home on the hill in the bright lights of Lynchburg I didn’t know a thing about these races. During my college years I had never raced farther than the half marathon; my longest trail run had been the Horton 20. (My 35 miler mentioned in the first installment of Miracles notwithstanding – running, walking, stopping and drinking mud puddles isn’t a run, it’s a disaster.)
Most people don’t know these ultrarunner people exist, when I learned of them I felt like Lucy when she met Mr. Tumnus holding his gifts in the snow, “You’re a… faun?”
My first exposure to the marathon subspecies was the aforementioned Horton. Doc Horton is a brilliant man, a systematic, autocratic, automatic running machine, a man who was my favorite professor during my stint at Liberty. This despite him ignoring my pleas to round up my 89.5 in Exercise Physiology - he told me some story about a baseball umpire having to call his son out if there was ever a bang-bang play at the plate, he then informed me that he didn’t give grades, students earned them. We were friends, and honestly I didn’t care much about the grade one way or the other but like Bob Larsen said, “It doesn’t hurt to ask.”
I mentioned Horton’s brilliance but haven’t mentioned his vice. Horton is a masochist, a sadist, a freak, a wacko, a crazy, a nut-job. He’s a guy whose summer “breaks” have included setting a world record – by 10 days - on the 2,144 mile Appalachian Trail, running the third fastest time in the Trans-America Race from Los Angeles to New York, and a guy, following my graduation, who roped me into pacing him for the final 46 miles of the Hard Rock Hundred Miler (We ran from 8pm – Noon the next day), I’m fairly certain this is the planet’s toughest 100 miler.
(I broke his finger during that race - still feel bad about that one.)
This is the same guy who stayed at Casa de Cox a few years back before setting a world record on the Pacific Crest Trail – a trail that runs from Mexico to Canada. If Scott Jurek is the ultra-marathoner, David Horton is the ultra-ultra-marathoner. The craziest of the crazies, the head associate at the asylum. Check out the trailer of his PCT record below:
This particular autumn, because I wasn’t competing, his 50-mile race was a real possibility. When I told Horton I was toying with the idea, he grinned like Alice’s Cheshire. It made moderate sense at best but I would have plenty of time to recover for indoors, it would give me added strength, I could test and press my limits, but mainly, above all else, I wanted to race the distance and these ultra guys. The only impediment, my only roadblock, would be getting permission from Liberty’s coach, Brant Tolsma. Coach earned his master’s degree in hydraulic engineering from the University of Michigan and his Ph.D. in the biomechanics of sport from Indiana. His doctoral dissertation was entitled “Leg Dynamics of Maximum Speed Sprinting.” Talk about brilliant, coach is as analytical as they come. So after finishing a workout with the Cross Crew on the upper field, I approached coach as he stood near the fence. I loaded my pitch - armed and ready - and let her rip.
“Coach, so I wanted to bounce something off you…”
We talked for five minutes. The left brained super power had his reservations, and rightfully so – being a scholarship athlete he needed me healthy, rested and ready for indoors. Without his green light the race was a no-go but I was adamant.
“Coach, I can do it.”
He wasn’t thrilled with the idea but after seeing my enthusiasm he granted the go ahead with one caveat:
“If you have any problems or think you are going to jeopardize your health in any way, you stop.”
“OK, coach. I will. Thanks.”
I was all set for the race, that is, until October came. I called my long time friend, Jason, back in San Diego to wish him a happy birthday on the 1st of the month.
“Happy birthday brother!”
“Thanks. What’s up with DC?”
Jason was never one to beat around the bush. DC is my brother Daniel.
“I have no idea. Why?”
“Did he get kicked out of the house? I just saw him at the gas station fueling up a huge U-Haul.”
“I don’t know, no one tells me anything. This is the worst birthday call ever - I’ll hit you up later.”
I was out of the loop. Usually one of my older sisters relayed the family info. I called and couldn’t get a hold of anyone. I was worried. I finally got a hold of my sister.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
“Mom left.”
“Left? Like left, left?”
“Yeah, something happened. We’re figuring everything out now.”
“Wow, I can’t believe she did it.”
Mom left dad. My parents married at 17 and 18 and had been together ever since - for 29 years. From the outside looking in, her leaving was a shock, but not for the three older sisters, two younger brothers, or me, the first-born son. We knew. The surprise wasn’t that she left but rather that she finally mustered the courage to leave.
When you’ve been a stay at home mom and full time child taxi service for six children the past few decades, packing a truck and driving away is no small thing.
“Don’t stay with him for my sake,” that’s what I told her a few months back in August after my dad and I went toe to toe – nose to nose rather – in the hallway of our house. I had caught him in a lie, a lie about me, and called him out on it. My mom - the referee calling the fight, my dad - the boxer in the blue trunks and me – the boxer in black were all standing in the hallway.
“He’s lying mom!”
“Is that true Don?” she asked.
No answer.
“Tell her you lied dad! Be a man and own it!”
Crickets. Nothing.
Our gazes locked. He was fuming, I was irate. This could get ugly.
“Dad, you’re a coward!”
Game on. Verbal barbs were exchanged. As he stormed out and retreated to his office I called him a lying coward – just for good measure. I know, I know, Matthew 19:19, not the nice church thing to do, but that’s the way it went down. I then told my mom she didn’t have to stick it out for me.
My dad and I were alike in many ways. My dad’s resume: Virginia State Champion Wrestler, full ride Michigan State University, NCAA Championship team, Olympic aspirations, President of Lincoln Financial, Owner Cox Capital Corporation. Type A all the way.
As a kid my dad was great but somewhere between me running the 5:24 mile at 12 and beating him in racquetball at 13, the road got rocky. The son hits adolescence and the father son dynamic changes – in most cases for the worse.
Typically, when something bad goes down between a mom and dad, the eldest son steps in. Father - son relationships are difficult. Father - eldest son relationships are brutal. If you’re a son and you and your dad have always had a good relationship, or vice-versa, count your blessings, all the guys I know have horror stories. My dad and I were always at odds.
Fresno. Junior year. California High School State Cross Country Championships. I was introduced prior to the race, “Josh Cox, San Diego Section Champion.”
Wave, smile, run, wave, smile, run.
I had hopes for a top ten, All-State, finish but I ran horribly, finished 42nd or 52nd maybe – I don’t know, it was bad. On the ride home in the family van, my dad and I started exchanging words. He was driving, I was directly behind in the captains seat. Back and forth we went. Then the hammer came, he put me in my place:
“You make us drive all the way up here for that? You went out there and walked – you’re a disappointment, a disgrace, an embarrassment to this family.”
I was 16 but I remember it like it was yesterday. I swallowed, my eyes welled, I put my headphones on, hit play, slammed the bill of my red Boston Red Sox cap, batted my eyes like a hummingbird and listened to Michael Jackson’s newly released Dangerous album.
Like all sons, I desperately sought my father’s acceptance and approval. Was he proud of me? Was I a success? I looked for validation from the one man who, for me, held the keys to the kingdom. Father’s, all of them, hold the power to bestow blessings or squash spirits. I see it even now with my thirty, forty and even fifty something friends, still looking – seeking – their father’s approval.
It’s a typical tale, the businessman loved by the world but despised by his own son.
For me, it’s easiest to explain our relationship lyrically:
“We fight all the time
You and I… that’s alright
We’re the same soul
I don’t need… I don’t need to hear you say
That if we weren’t so alike
You’d like me a whole lot more”
Sometimes You Can’t Make It On Your Own
– U2
Paul Hewson, aka Bono, wrote that song to his dad, Bob. It’s a song that my dad and I talked over, exchanged emails over, and listened to during the nine-month restoration period of our relationship. We played the song everywhere - from chemo sessions in Texas and California to driving in his convertible along the coast during his final Father’s day weekend. For about a month, I stripped everything off my MySpace page, and posted the lyric and song. He called me after a week and told me he had been to my page every day to listen, read and think about us kids. In a rare honest moment regarding his mortality he even asked if I would talk about the song at his funeral. I did, the boy named Sue.
Understanding our family dynamic is important to why I ran the race, why I dedicated it to my mom and why I nearly took a flight home and didn’t run the race at all.
In high school my parents were figureheads - people who didn’t want me to have fun - curfews, confines, and rules. During my college years, for the first time, I saw my parents as real people, people with emotions, problems and needs. I wanted my mom to be happy, I wanted the tears to end.
In our family, both then and now, when something goes wrong, we circle the wagons - all of us. As kids, if my dad said something to make my sister cry, we all gathered in her room and told her it was OK; in high school if my dad and I got into it, I went and stayed at my sister’s apartment – everyone understood. My mom was the glue. Time and time again she held our family together. Strongest woman I’ve ever met. My friends called her the female Jesus. In all my years she never raised her voice in anger, not once – she just loved us, unconditionally, all the time, no matter what. She’s not perfect but she’s darn close.
Now, my mom needed us. The whole family rallied around her, the wagons were circling, everyone’s wagon but mine. There I was, the oldest boy, one of the only men in her life that could be there for her and I was stranded across the country. Horrible.
Surprisingly, as much as my dad and I weren’t getting along and as expected as this was, this hit me harder than anything else during my young life. I know now that a parent’s separation and divorce is difficult no matter what the age. I remember my girlfriend coming over wanting to talk about it and me just shaking my head and trying not to cry. I don’t know why I took it so hard. Maybe it was because I wasn’t there for my mom and siblings, maybe because they weren’t there for me, or perhaps it was because the traditional, nuclear family I had grown accustomed to was being blown to bits. I didn’t have answers but I remember it being a big burden to bear.
All of a sudden the 50-miler didn’t seem so important - and I had that plane ticket. The previous fall break our Liberty team took a trip out to San Diego for UCSD’s Cross Country meet - a race that saw Sir Abdi, running for Pima Community College, take home top honors. Waiting for the flight back to Virginia I took a bump off of the flight – a free roundtrip ticket – a ticket that would expire after this fall break.
I called mom.
“Hey mom, it’s Josh. How are you doing?”
“I’m doing OK, everything is fine. What about you?”
My mom could make things seem OK, even when they weren’t.
“Things are good, busy but good. I was thinking I might come home for fall break, I have that free ticket from last years trip.”
“I thought you were going to run that big race.”
“I was but I feel like I should be there with you and the family.”
“We’re OK Josh, I know how much you wanted to run that race, you should do it.”
“I don’t know, I’m just not sure anymore.”
“Well, just pray about it. You’ll know what to do.”
And pray I did. I didn’t receive a definitive word from the Lord but I did have a supernatural peace about the race. It’s hard to articulate but when the Lord gives you peace, you know it, you feel it in your heart. So as much as I wanted to go home, eat some good Mexican and hang out with family and friends, I knew I was supposed to run this race. I was sure of it. Knowing what I was giving up made me all the more focused.
Race week arrived and I went to meet Horton in his office. Not the typical guy, not the typical office. Remember John Forbes Nash from the movie, A Beautiful Mind? Horton’s office décor looked like Nash designed it. The place was covered in anything and everything running. Bill Rodgers pictures and autographs, running magazine covers, running articles, race numbers, memorabilia, trophies, belt buckles, you name it, he had it.
I walked in, Horton greeted me, “Sooooo, BIG race coming this weekend!” When Horton gets excited he says “so” like it’s a six letter word, and he talks fast, not as fast as an auctioneer but close, and he throws in added emphasis on every third word or so. “We have a GREAT field this year, Courtney Campbell has WON this race the past TWO and Mikey Morton just set the COURSE RECORD at Western STATES, if he WINS this race he’ll be a shoe in for ULTRA RUNNER OF THE YEAR. What do YOU think you can DO? Sooooo what’s your PLAN? You have a plan don’t YOU?”
I smiled. I loved this guy. I dominated his Exercise Physiology oral final from this very seat.
“I think I’m gonna win. I’m not doing this race to say ‘I finished a 50 miler.’”
Horton grinned the way Horton does and said, “Well, you will either teach them a lesson or they’ll teach you a lesson.”
“Sounds about right.”
“What’s your strategy?”
“I don’t know. I was thinking I’d just stay with the leaders. When they eat - I’ll eat, when they drink - I’ll drink. When we hit 45 miles I’ll just run away from everyone and win the thing.”
Some plan.
Race day in the next blog. Thanks for reading. Free Coldplay below.
- Josh
Check back on Wednesday, May 14, 2008 for Josh’s latest entry at: http://joshcox.thefinalsprint.com/
To comment on this entry and to send feedback & questions to Josh, please click here.
Written while listening to: I Believe In Miracles by The Ramones off the Loco Live Album (Long live CBGB), Boy Named Sue by Mr. Cash off the Johnny Cash at San Quentin Album, 4 different versions of U2’s Sometimes You Can’t Make It On Your Own – audio ripped from the Live in Chicago DVD is my favorite, it has the best intro and explanation of the song, U218 Live from Milan, How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb and Live from Under The Brooklyn Bridge EP. 3 different versions of U2’s Kite – a song about letting go of someone you love. Live from Boston DVD (Elevation Tour) - great intro, audio ripped from Go Home: Live from Slane DVD – great intro about Paul’s and Edge’s dad, the tenors, talking about how they were “pissed as farts singing the duet from the Silver Fish,” and thirdly, from the All That You Can’t Leave Behind album. Last but not least, Coldplay’s new, FREE downloadable song! Violet Hill (follow the link, free for one week only) http://coldplay.com/song.html
Thanks for reading, for the comments and most of all, for the being a part of my life and the blog.
Mr. Cash – A Boy Named Sue
U2 – Sometimes You Can’t Make It On Your Own
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Tags: a boy named sue, dad, Dr. David Horton, elite athlete blog, elite athlete blog series, family, father son, jog, josh cox, liberty university, miracles, mom, Mountain Masochist 50 miler, shuffle, thefinalsprint.com elite athlete blog series, trail running, U2, ultra, ultra endurance, ultra marathon, ultramarathon, ultrarunning
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The Final Sprint
Man, this entry really made me realize how blessed I am to have a good relationship with my father. A lot of that stems from our reliance on each other after the loss of my mother. Anyways, as a Horton student I can attest that he is still the same as you described. There’s something about the man that, although he’s absolutely bonkers, makes you want to make him proud. I just finished Promise Land and I couldn’t imagine going through the MMTR 5o Miler, although odds are that Horton will probably rope me into that one before too long.
May 1st, 2008 at 9:28 pmGreat read. Thanks for letting us in. Lots of good stuff to ponder, to learn from here.
May 1st, 2008 at 9:57 pmThanks for opening up and sharing your sole with us. This is powerful stuff. Keep on!
May 2nd, 2008 at 8:06 amWow, can’t wait to read the next part. Thank you for sharing this, I needed it right now.
May 2nd, 2008 at 11:38 amFunny how similar to my experience. I now am dealing with it from the other side, as the dad. It’s funny what you tell yourself, and how you know what you will not be like when you have kids only to do the opposite. It is really hard to try to overcome your upbringing and break the cycle. Its that thing in your last blog entry….you know what to do.
May 2nd, 2008 at 8:55 pmGreat writing makes great reading. Great job. God Bless you and your family. Thank-you for sharing your gift.
May 2nd, 2008 at 10:30 pmMan, this is sooo true. I had a similar experience in my first Ironman. At the end of the bike ride, I just turned over and collapsed, somewhat embarrassed, discouraged, etc. Aren’t these endurance races a real symbol of life? This is what it’s all about.
I ended up getting by, with a strength that I never knew I had. It’s amazing.
Life is amazing. It can be so hard, and it’s clearly an ultra-marathon. But at the same time, everything seems to go by so fast. Then, the next day after the race, there’s such a joy and peace about making it through. I’m sure it’s going to be the same way when we make it through all the challenges of life.
I can really relate to this one.
May 4th, 2008 at 1:48 am[…] TheFinalSprint.com | Premier Running Destination for Marathons, Track and Field, Race News, Podcasts, Training Advice and More! put an intriguing blog post on Josh Cox: Miracles 50 and A Boy Named Sue (Elite Athlete Blog - Entry #8)Here’s a quick excerpt […]
May 4th, 2008 at 2:35 amI spent last weekend with my dad and his wife, from Friday afternoon to Sunday afternoon. It was the most amount of time I had spent with my dad in probably 15 years. It was weird to even say the word “dad” while referring someone in the room; I hadn’t done that in a while.
We certainly had some challenges through the years and I didn’t know how this saga would end up. Certainly after he told me to “have a nice life”, or when he said he was “through with me” or that I “didn’t need a dad anymore”, it was tough to even want a relationship with him. I was always trying to negotiate the 5th Commandment trying to figure out what my responsibility was. But no matter how strained the relationship got, I always prayed for him; what else could I do?
I’m proud to say that he knows God today, and more importantly, God knows him. Our relationship is taking the appropriate steps to move forward and we’ll see what happens. But God is good! And no matter how angry I get with my dad, I will always be on a quest to hear from him, “This is my son, whom I love, and with him I well pleased.”
Sadly, men, and more importantly dads, don’t understand the profound impact they have and those around them. Many simply don’t understand how their words alone can shape the minds and hearts of their sons and daughters while simultaneously engaging in ridiculous behavior; I call this “WeakSauce”. The chapter that I am writing now is called “WeakSauce, As Goes the Man, so Goes the World”. I’ll shot it over to you when I’m done.
I understand the relationship you had with your dad, and I think it will benefit the audience that you have by sharing it here.
But I can’t believe you left us hanging on this blog. “Race Day, next blog”. What a jerk!
vc
May 4th, 2008 at 8:26 pmThanks everyone for the comments, emails, and feedback over the past few days.
Carrie and I are up at Stanford for the big invitational here tonight.
I should have some time to comment on Tuesday - at least that’s the plan - just know that I appreciate all you readers! Clicking the link over at my site to see if anyone has left a message is a favorite part of my day!
I’ll be keeping picture updates and Twitter updates for the Stanford meet on my site www.joshcox.com and here: http://twitter.com/joshcoxrun
I’m covering the meet for Runner’s World - so it should be a late night tonight!
Article is due in the early morn. :)
God Bless. He is so good, so faithful!
Talk soon,
–jc
May 4th, 2008 at 9:10 pmI always wondered what happened with your parents. My parents got a divorce my senior year of college. I told my mom something very similar…you don’t have to stay because of us (my sister and I). I stood up to my dad and his evil ways and walked out, my mom soon had the courage to follow suit. It took 8 years of hell before my dad and I ever were able to repair all the damage.
I agree that there is never a good time for a couple to divorce, but it was particularly difficult to have your parent’s divorce as a young adult. Everything you knew as normal, dysfunctionl as it may have been suddenly gets shattered.
Your mom, you described her just as I remembered, perfect. She was always ready to cheer us on with the oranges and gatorade all while carrying a cell phone the size of a brick! Poor thing had to endure the Boys 2 Men tape over and over in the van to the CC meets. Never complaining, always there. I have very fond memories HS CC, and appreciate all she did to make our team successful.
I read a bit about what you have posted regarding your dad and his battle with cancer. Just as I am thankful for the healing that has gone on in the relationship with my dad, I am glad that in the end there was healing in your relationship with your dad.
I am so thankful for the miracle of forgiveness. The fact that God can help through forgiving someone who hurts us deeply is just a miracle. All the miles on the road, thinking and praying over the hurt and then finally coming to the place when you are able to offer forgiveness, is a miracle.
Keep writing…it’s interesting…keep running…you’re gifted!
May 5th, 2008 at 1:54 amBest regards,
Rachel
PS Robb and I saw you in NY and cheered loudly for you…I promise we aren’t stalkers, he ran the NYC Marathon the next day…Please tell your wife I feel for her…it is not easy being married to a marathon runner…those nasty marathon toes and piles of sweaty laundry to do…nope not easy!
Josh- I love this story! I haven’t heard you tell it this way before. I know how it ends and I’m still intrigued to hear the rest :)
May 5th, 2008 at 3:26 amHope all is well
B
Hey Josh, so how far is this marathon? Haha…I laughed so hard my side hurt. Just kidding man–or like my mom says when I tell her I’m running a race “Did you win?”
And another thing on the previous blog when you talked about the wife asking you to cuddle–that was so funny–I have to rub the shoulders of my wife almost everynight. She claims she doesn’t sleep as well without it.
Oh well can’t live without them..hummm,just kidding!
Waiting for the next episode,
May 6th, 2008 at 4:04 pmGod bless you & yours!
“Race day in the next blog”?- I hate you!
May 8th, 2008 at 5:27 pmYou’ve probably heard “time heals all wounds” or “give it time and you’ll be OK.” Lies, all lies. Time doesn’t heal, time buries.
May 13th, 2008 at 3:06 amThanks to everyone for the comments and feedback. This was a tough entry to write - mainly because I had to go back and excavate some tough times that had been buried by time. Many of us have been wounded by our friends, family, or fathers in particular but have never dealt with the pain.
King David once said, “For I am poor and needy, and my heart is wounded within me.” (Psalm 109:22 NIV) Even kings bear scars from their past and burying wounds is easier than dealing with them. Consequently, we have a bunch of hurt, wounded people walking around - and hurt people – hurt people. I encourage you all to write about all the times you’ve been hurt and allow healing to take place. Me, being a Christian, I ask God to heal me, I offer Him every part of the wound, I talk to Him about it and most importantly I forgive the other party involved. When you come to the Lord, the power of the cross and resurrection isn’t just for everything from that moment forward, it’s for it ALL – even those things buried by time. Healing those wounds is like surgery, you have to open up and allow the doctor to go in and get the disease out before you can be sown back up. It’s painful but worth it in the end.
Rachel, great hearing from you. I’m sorry about your parents, I know just how you feel. Tell Rob I say hi. Sorry my wheel came off in NYC – I was crazy fit. Darn arch. How did he do at NYC?
VC – thanks for writing brother. Our stories are vastly similar – our families are too, if you removed my older three sisters. That’s why I love you man. (I always put “man” after telling a guy I love him – I don’t know why, it just doesn’t sound right if I don’t.) I’m praying for you all in Kansas.
My mom wrote me some great stuff in the days following the initial posting of this blog, over the weekend I told her she could post it here if she felt led but she’s on a mini vacation right now so I’m not sure if it will happen.
Bree, thanks for reading. I still want to read your book. Tell me where I can get a copy. You’ll love The Path – it’s so good – I just need a publisher to take a chance, I’ll knock it out of the park when they do.
Andy, regarding breaking the cycle: I think the fact that you are being honest with yourself is a HUGE first step. Being intentional about loving your son is key and going to see a counselor together would help volumes. Mediators are key in father – son relationships. Mom doesn’t count. (Counselors are awesome – just about everyone I know could benefit from a monthly visit.) For me, I focus on being like Christ, not – “not being like my dad.” I guess it’s like focusing on “holding onto the ball” rather than “not fumbling.”
RJ – yes, Horton is a special guy who can trick unsuspecting people into most anything. Karen – thanks again for reading as always, tell the folks at the Union Tribune I say hello! Cross – gracias. Shane – glad I could help. Deerpark – thanks for the writing compliment – I love the written word. Tom – yes, indeed, life is a marathon – an ultra-marathon.
Grande, thanks for reading – I hate you too.
And lastly, Corey, thanks for laughing at my jokes! Nice to know there’s at least two of us! :D
–jc
Hi Josh,
How are you Mr.?
Make that three in the laughing crew … I have been asked that same question several times and each time it makes me laugh. I blame the folks who came up with the “dance marathon” and the “aerobics marathon” and all of the other uses of “marathon” out of its original context : )
Any hoo, what a great post. Thank you for sharing your story. I have had a few friends who have dealt with their parents’ divorce later on in life and as you mentioned, although there is never an easy time for that to happen, I definitely think it is processed much differently when we are older. I think sometimes the impact may be underestimated for “older” kids. Even though kids may be technically grown when their parents divorce, most of us hate to think of them not being together. The longer we have become accustomed to the family unit and both parents being together, the harder it can be to process how life will be after the divorce. When we are older nobody can sugar coat the severity because we fully understand what divorce means.
I can understand why this post was difficult to write and as always, I sincerely appreciate you sharing it with us. I am sure as you re-visited that painful time in your life, a great deal of emotions came flooding back. You are right, time really doesn’t cure anything, it just acts as a little bit of a buffer for the pain.
I am looking forward to the next installment … oh how you do like to leave us all hanging!
Oh and I agree with Corey’s wife and Carrie regarding the importance of cuddle time and how shoulder rubs ALWAYS ensure a much more restful sleep … DUH! hee hee! Come on y’all HAD to know that!
Smiles, Hugs, and Prayers
~ Jodi
May 14th, 2008 at 12:31 amL Cox, just ran a google search and found this. Todd told me he emailed you a while ago. Always good to hear how you are doing. And it was nice to see Rachel K above — good old CC team from CHS! Keep it real. You had the course record still in a race I ran here in Lynchburg last year — couldn’t take you down!
May 14th, 2008 at 3:48 pmHi Josh,
May 15th, 2008 at 8:16 pmMate it is soooooo good (yes I do it to when I am excited) to hear your words again even if they are on paper not in person. You write incredibly Josh and it is very clear each word is heartfelt. My grandmother used to say “it is not what happens in life that matters but what you do with what happens to you”. We share a heavenly dad who loves what you are doing with what has happened to you! Josh you have taken moments and turned them into lifetime changes and it is a HUGE encouragement to me. It is great that even though I am back home in Australia I can still get to know you…please know that you and Carrie are in my prayers. Say hi and pass on my love to Carrie!