August in Texas is a challenge for most of us. This summer hasn’t been as bad as previous ones, but we’re beginning to feel at home now.
97 degrees is the average high temperature for this time of year. I’m grateful for every day we’ve stayed below 90 thus far. We’ve been near or at 100 fairly regularly lately. This old man is feeling it more than ever.
I’m sure it didn’t help that I got stuck in a truck with no working air conditioner twice this month. Even with drinking everything legal for a conservative Christian I’m still drained.
I keep reassuring myself we’re one day closer to fall. It doesn’t work. I’m still tired.
We’ve gotten more rain this summer than usual, too. The lawn cracks are just starting to appear and they’re small enough I don’t have to avoid them. Normally I have to watch to make sure I don’t sprain an ankle all the way up to my knee from such a mis-step.
There’s still a big divot left over from last summer I have to detour. But I’m conditioned to do that automatically now.
Yeah, I still run at 100 degrees. My schedule won’t allow for any other time for such exercise. I’ve kept myself healthy enough that I know missing a week of running would be more hazardous to my health that straining through the drain of Texas swelter.
Of course “running” at 100 degrees is much different than running at say 70 degrees.
An August run looks something like this. I fill a water bottle before I head out the door. At ten minutes I wipe the first sweat off my brow and take a drink of water. At fifteen minutes I stop to wipe my head with my shirt tail and gulp more water. Fifteen steps later I’m wiping more sweat that’s stinging my eyes. Repeat at twelve steps and swallow more water. Ten steps later I tear my shirt attempting to sop up more sweat, then chug the last of the water. I pray for a working drinking fountain so I can refill my bottle. After I stagger across the parking lot to what looks like a fountain I discover they shut the water off since they’re not scheduling any activities for that city park this time of year. What were they thinking?
Now you know why Texans are so tough. I’ve relived that scenario several times. Yeah, I’m a full-fledged Texan now.
A couple of weeks ago I came across another guy running toward me, so I decided to conduct a quick on-the-spot interview.
I asked one question: “So, are we crazy or desperate?”
I chuckled at the speed of his reply and the surety in his voice. “Crazy” was all he could muster.
So, as I was hoping I stepped on the proper one of the two sidewalks I saw to get back home while licking the cotton out of my mouth I thought a question to myself. Is there anything else I feel is this important that I’ll persevere through so much adversity?
Then I thought about my writing journey and answered a decisive “Yes.”
Writing is so much a part of me I can’t imagine not doing it. It’s more important than exercising. It ranks right up there with breathing and eating chocolate. It’s that vital to my existence.
That’s why I pull my computer out during a lunch break to write three more paragraphs on the proposal I’m fixin’ to send out this weekend. (Yeah, “Fixin” is Texan)
That’s why I gave up watching television for entertainment. It took too much time and energy away from my writing.
That’s why I keep putting these blog posts out every week. It’s an outlet for my creative juices.
The real “why” that I write is the fact that it’s a direct gift from God Himself. I firmly believe that.
I don’t want to be that guy in the parable of the talents who buried my talent. I want to be one of the guys Jesus smiles at and says, “Well done.”
What gift has He given you to use in adversity?
Keep smiling. Wade