All Quiet on the Western Front

Western States 2017

Unsurprisingly, the 2018 Western States lottery did not come out in my favor, leaving me back in the pack again hoping for a future date in Squaw Valley to right the wrongs from my excursion this year. The odds of actually getting through were so minuscule that I never held out much hope that I would get another shot this soon - which is fine by me, given that 2018 will be filled with a few "life events" that will prevent me from giving States the adequate time and training I think I will need to persevere on that course.

Despite being anything but a thing of beauty, my finish at Wasatch garnered me a shot at the Hard Rock 100 lottery - a lottery whose chances for a first-timer like myself are even more remote than Western States (around 0.4%). Getting into Hard Rock was a pipe dream, but it was fun just to be a part of the process. I look forward to returning to Telluride next summer to volunteer again at one of my favorite races. Whether I ever get the chance to toe the line at Hard Rock, it's a joy for me to simply be around that race.

And so my slate for 2018 remains clean. My next lottery adventure will be that of the great Cascade Crest 100, which (if successful) would send me to the lovely pine forests and mountains of Washington State next August. Fingers crossed.

Other Stuff (Not Running Related)

I had an opportunity recently to spend a few days at the magnificent Clear Creek Benedictine Monastery in Oklahoma. It was a weekend retreat that I wished could have stretched a few days more, but it was nonetheless fruitful for me in a number of ways. I had the good fortune to hear a talk by a Benedictine priest once who spoke about the lives of these men who have devoted their lives to prayer and work (Ora et Labora). Seeing this in action was very moving.

I always find myself looking for God in other places. My default mindset seems to be that God is "out there" somewhere, and that through some laborious effort on my part, I can find Him, hear Him, and know Him. When I don't immediately hear or find Him, I look somewhere else (or worse, give up the search entirely, which I have done many times). It's a transitory mentality spurred on by my acquiescence to our modern culture. But their view is decidedly different. For the monk, the guiding principle is that of community first. They stop, lay down roots, and begin to listen. The mindset is "if I cannot find God here, I will not find Him anywhere."

The monastery itself is still under construction and likely will not be completed for many years. I appreciated what they were doing there, and saw a metaphor that I could apply to my own timid faith life. It is a faith that is also very much under construction, but one which (I hope) has the shell and foundations of something that could actually last. I hope that in God's time, it can become a faith that shines like the witness of these simple and holy men. It's not there yet. But maybe someday.