April 2024 – Page 4 – EncouragingU

Accurate Measurement

by dcreamer April 4, 2024 with No Comments

By David Freeze

Things are much different with races these days from when I began running in 1979. 5Ks are all the rage now and there are lots of choices within an hour’s drive. Forty-five years ago, we often drove 2 or more hours to find a race and 8K, 10K and 10 milers were popular. The 5K was usually the secondary race if it was even offered. Walkers seldom participated then, but last week’s 5K at Concordia Lutheran Church Love Thy Neighbor event had them as about a third of the field. Races were affordable nearly everywhere, but today’s pricing often tops $40-45. There were no participation medals then, but now the biggest city races nearly all have them. But good races had accurate courses and they still should.

In the ’80s and early in the ’90s, we didn’t have as many ways to measure the distance of the race or a run of any length. The best way to get an idea of the distance was to drive the course and hope the vehicle odometer was calibrated correctly. Nobody had satellite-capable watches like the industry standard Garmins that arrived on the scene in the late ’90s and early 2000s.

I believe that these Garmins are the best satellite watches on the market, but still they are not totally accurate. Neither are popular sites like MapMyRun and Strava. It is very common for a new race to call with the idea of already having their course mapped out. Or that they have drawn it on GIS. None of these methods are recognized as accurate by the Road Runners Club of America or the United States Association of Track and Field. All this will come as a shock to a large percentage of runners, and at least one race director in a nearby county who still drives his car over the course for a measurement.

So, how do we get an accurately measured course? It starts with a solid wheel on a handle, one that can be rolled along ahead of someone walking the course. Called wheel measurers, they measure feet and inches. The wheel is solid, not air inflated. This wheel or a Jones Counter, a bicycle mounted measurer, are all that are recognized as accurate. With the Jones Counter, the bicycle tires have to be calibrated for air pressure. No wonder the measuring wheel is the easiest to use device.

When setting up a course, either the start or finish point have to be chosen by the race director as most important. The 5K course can be measured forward or backward, and I usually measure forward if the start line is the most important while going backward if the finish is most important. By measuring backward, I would measure the .1 of the 3.1 total course first and then measure the third mile next, then 2 and 1. Each mile is 5,280 feet. That figure never changes. A tenth is 528 feet. A 5K course is 16,368 feet. Each of these points are marked with paint and occasionally with an old-style bottle cap secured with a nail driven into pavement.

Next most important to the actual distance is that the course be measured the way an experienced runner would run it. In other words, to match the shortest distance possible over the designated course. This term is called “running the tangents.” Legal, proper and expected.

There is a certain amount of math that complicates an intended course when it is not an out and back to a point that includes both the start and finish. A few of our local courses end several hundred feet from the start. Sometimes a turnaround point has to be calculated, and always should be marked and designated with a big cone or barrel. It gets to be even more interesting when different roads, called a loop, are used to return to the start or finish.

The next time you line up to walk or run a 5K or any distance race, remember that someone put a lot of effort into making the course accurate. Rowan County courses have a great reputation on this subject.

Look for future events at www.salisburyrowanrunners.org

Seeking God Across the Street

by dcreamer April 3, 2024 with No Comments

By Theresa Parker Pierce

When I was three years old, my family moved to a house across the street from a church. I was too little to notice the building but the playground caught my eye. I spent the rest of my childhood appreciating the swings and sliding board. Looking back now, I realize that no one ever told me I was not wanted. Over the years, I made friends with the neighbor children and we played kickball on the open field beside the sanctuary.

I was an unchurched child. I would grow up to be a first generation Christian. It never occurred to me that I was any different than any other child. Cars came and went to the building and while no one ever invited me to join them, the people were always kind.

When I turned five, my mother wanted me to attend kindergarten. There was no public preschool. It was convenient enough that the program was across the street and I could go alone. For me, this was the best thing ever. My teacher was amazing! On a sidenote, she called me “my girl” and became friends with my mother. I visited in her home as an adult and kept up with her until her death at the age of 90. Mrs. Mary, as she asked me to call her had a name that was hard to pronounce, Noftsger. I fell so in love with my teacher, that she marked my chosen profession. I retired with 35 years in education. She would say of my teaching, “I am so proud of my girl.”

Attending church kindergarten, opened a door for me. I asked my momma if I could attend Sunday School. She agreed and I was delighted. Sunday School included more of the lessons I had learned at church kindergarten. We sang, heard Bible stories and talked. Other children asked questions and the teacher answered them. I did not talk. I did not know what to say. I just took it all in.

Sunday School started in a large room. A basket was passed and I placed a small offering in it. A pianist played hymns and songs. I sang at the top of my lungs. The chairs were easy to rock back and forth in. The superintendent took attendance. We were dismissed to small classes, segregated by boys and girls. It was the 1960’s. Then I walked home.

One thing I noticed was a baby nursery. It did not occur to me at the time, but now I know that children younger than me obviously went to church before age five. I could not change the knowledge that my life was different. I was just happy to be there. I loved the colorful posters of Jesus and the children. I loved the teachers. I wanted a string of Sunday School pins for perfect attendance but I knew that was unattainable and accepted it.

Vacation Bible School was even better than Sunday School. I could attend for a week in the summer. They had cookies that fit nicely on my finger. We drank red koolaide in tiny cups with refills. VBS was Sunday School amped up! We took turns holding the flags and Bible for pledges. We visited an orphanage and for once, I saw children who had less than me. It was a game changer. My Sunday School teacher grew up there. I had hope for my future. I wanted to be just like her.

Just when I thought things could not get better, I was invited to join the Children’s Choir.

I think this is when things began to change from wonderful to struggles. I was used to singing from the bottom of my heart but this was serious business. It felt like school. The choir director said, “Someone is off key.” I just knew it was me and began to fake singing. I wish now I had not but I also forgive my younger self. I understand.

I was growing older and I knew how to survive in my home. But at church and school, I became aware of the world of nice clothes. I did not fit in. I looked nice. I was clean. My clothes were pressed. My mother made them with care but the world of brands cast a long shadow over the teen years of church.

A beautiful Sunday School teacher drew me in. Just when I began to be disillusioned with church, Mrs. Powers stepped up to teach the Junior High class. It was the first time the boys and girls were mixed. I did not talk or ask questions but I knew she loved us and that was enough. My best friend and I were a dynamic duo. We sat together. It was enough. Our teacher loved us so much, she moved up with our group every year until we graduated high school.

I was not always invited to the parties of the other girls and boys. I was not cool. I joined the Youth Group. I saw hypocrisy. I heard kids making fun. I began to wonder how church kids were different from school kids. But fortunately, there were enough mentors, adult and teens that gave me hope. I watched my best friend’s family attend church, have devotions and do things differently. I wanted that kind of life. Not everyone was perfect. I heard stories. I began to understand how church attendees struggled like everyone else.

My inner voice kept me going to church and I am so glad that I did. At the age of twelve, I joined the church. My parents attended my baptism and started going to church. I made life- long friends at what I came to call, “my home church.” I grew up to be a church member, nursery worker and VBS teacher. I chose a better life for my children and grandchildren. I still go back to visit. I tell everyone there the difference they made in my life. I thank God that my childhood home was within walking distance of a church. Never underestimate a small child who is seeking God.

I grew up to raise my family in church all because I was mentored. I remembered and sang the same songs I learned as a child. I have thanked my home church many times. My life was changed. I read somewhere how one Godly man can change the trajectory of generations. A Godly mother can do the same. I thank God every day for those who pointed me in the right direction.

Dear Lord,

When I meet young and old, help me to remember that those who enter our church may not bring money or skills. Help me remember to not see them as a number. Help me to look at that child as a future parent. Please help me to mentor and encourage others who don’t look or act like me. Help me, please to protect them from human obstacles to their future as a believer. Most importantly, Lord, help me see everyone through Your eyes. Amen

Encouragement: Please consider inviting people to your church, especially children. They can be game changers for their future family. They can discover God’s peace and joy. Going to church gave me peace in my heart. The church showed me a different way of celebrating Christmas and Easter. I learned it was more than Santa and egg hunts. I found joy in singing, listening to testimonies and turning my life over to Christ. I encourage you to invest or continue investing in children. You can point the way for young person and change not only their life but their children and children’s children. I am living proof. Ray Boltz sang a song called, “Thank you for giving to the Lord, I have a life that was changed.” Someone did it for you, will you sew into God’s kingdom to change your neighbor, city and world?

Do you invite people to church so you can earn a prize?
When someone attends your church, do you size them up by what they wear or if their parents will donate to the church?
Do you allow people to attend church to grow or only look at how they can contribute to the volunteer staff?
Are you willing to mentor children with an open heart, giving them a ride to church and or including them in your programs?

The Youth Leader

by dcreamer April 2, 2024 with No Comments

By Ann Farabee

My early experiences with a worship service took place when I was 13. It consisted of passing notes back and forth between my friends and boys that I liked. There was an offering envelope holder on the back of each pew and that envelope was perfect for writing notes to friends. Talking or whispering was not permitted.

At some point during my teen years, my friends and I began slipping down to the altar during what was referred to as the altar call. That was when I began to find less need for passing notes and a newfound need for bowing at the altar in prayer, surrounded by my peers in our youth group. Our youth group never went to the altar alone. We went together and our youth leaders went with us.

That group became my friend group. We soon began going out to eat on Sunday nights after church. I barely noticed at the time that my mother was one of the parents driving us there, and she was making friends, too.

Yes, these memories included food for our bodies, but it was much more than that. It was the beginning of my spiritual development that I would cling to throughout my life.

Our youth group met at church, met in homes, went bowling, played putt-putt, prayed together and stayed together. We shared our problems. We shared our testimonies. We were a group — that became a family — as a result of the sacrifice of time of a leader.

That leader made sure we would break bread and be fed during our teen years.

One evening during youth when we were praying as a group, I remember someone lifting a hand toward heaven in praise. I opened my eyes to see whose hand that was, and it was mine.

I never looked back.

There was spiritual power in that sacrifice of praise from my heart that day.

I recognized that power as the power of the Holy Spirit working in my life.

Never ever underestimate the power of a youth group. I learned the value of having friends who valued what I valued.

I learned about salvation through Jesus Christ. I learned about a relationship with Jesus Christ.

I learned to be friends with others who believed as I did — that Jesus died on the cross for us — and rose again — as a sacrifice for our sins — so that we could live eternally in heaven with Him.

Together, we also learned to worship. Worship is defined as praising, admiring and expressing reverence for God, both privately and publicly. Worship refers to an overall lifestyle of serving and glorifying God and reflecting His glory. The Greek word for worship means to encounter God with praise. An encounter with God is exactly what we needed then — and what we still need today.

Jesus placed a desire to worship in our hearts.

Each week, we need to break bread and be fed.

Still today, what I feel on the inside spills out of my heart and out of my mouth. However, I may feel a little guilty about the wasted offering envelopes.

Thank you to my youth leaders. Your sacrifice of time changed my life.