What's Next?

Good question...I don't know.

I finished my time with The Help (click here for more info) sometime in early October. It was much too short; I didn't want it to end. I feel like I barely scratched the surface of the film industry, and then it became time for me to move on. I had no idea what I would do.

During my time with The Help I had the opportunity to really watch a movie being made. I've observed countless different jobs on set, and I'm beginning to narrow down the areas that I'd be interested in working. As I mentioned in previous blogs, my ultimate desire is to pursue acting once again. However, I've discovered that I'm also interested in the production side of things. I've also found that in this industry you don't have to be confined to just one thing. I like that.

I was considering a move to LA, but the timing just didn't feel right. I didn't have any money, no promise of a job, and truth be told, I've never actually been to LA. I didn't know what to expect. Plus, I didn't have any recent roles on my resume, aside from my experience as a Stand-In. The last role that I had was 10 years ago when I played RADAR in our High School Production of M*A*S*H. I know that I can still act, but I need to get some resume credits to prove it.

I started focusing my efforts on some cities in the South. I spent a few weeks in Memphis, went to the Indie Film festival, met some people, and checked out the opportunities. It became clear that most of the productions were elsewhere. In fact, I found out that the re-make of Footloose was between Memphis and Atlanta...and chose Atlanta. The same thing happened with The Blind Side back a year or 2 ago. Atlanta was quickly becoming a valid option.

My buddy James offered me a place to stay in Atlanta while I figured some things out. I started researching opportunities in Atlanta. I needed a reason to go.

I found my way to the Atlanta Film Commission website, and eventually saw an opportunity to be an Extra on MTV's new TV series "Teen Wolf". I sent them an e-mail, and a few days later they called me. I couldn't believe it. They wanted me to be a "student at a lacrosse game" for a 2 day shoot a few days from when they called. I started packing.

While I didn't know what I would do after Teen Wolf, I was hopeful. I knew that I just needed the opportunity to be there, and the next step would become clear. Would I make some connections and apply as a crew member? Would they need the services of an "experienced" stand in? would they scoop me out of the bleachers and put me in the show? unlikely, but I suppose crazier things have happened. It's fun to dream.

At Teen Wolf, I made some valuable connections with other Extras. Some of the people there had some incredible information on finding more work. There were e-mail addresses, facebook pages, websites, etc. None of which I had known about previously, and all of which were helpful. I wrote it all down.

It was the use of those resources that lead me to my next job. The Vampire Diaries. The extras casting people e-mailed me and asked me to work in a scene at a bar/grill. I would be the only Male bartender. I was excited.

I really enjoyed being a part of that production. I don't know that my face will ever actually be seen on screen, but I did have a slightly bigger part than in the other production. My job was to hand some coffee to the Sheriff and then make my way down the bar asking if the other patrons needed anything. Considering my experience as a bartender a few years ago, I felt right at home.

Someone that I met on the set of Vampire Diaries gave me another e-mail address. He told me that they were looking for extras tomorrow, and that I should apply ASAP. I e-mailed the production company, and received a phone call less than 30 minutes later.

As it turned out, what I had applied for was as an extra in a movie called "The Change Up" (click here for more details). I came to find out that the main characters in the movie are Ryan Reynolds and Jason Bateman. I was to be one of 4 "Parks Department" employees in a scene they were shooting tomorrow. I had no idea what to expect.

God smiled on me this day. It was an awesome experience. I was given a desk at a "DMV" type office at the Parks Department, and told to look bored and somewhat busy. As they began to set up the scene, I quickly realized that I was going to be right behind the action. In a scene with Jason Bateman, Ryan Reynolds, and another actress who is playing a Parks Department employee. When the camera shows her, I'm pretty sure you'll be able to see me. I'll probably be blurry, and you better not blink...but if you pause the movie at just the right moment...you might be able to see my arm. haha kidding, I haven't seen the footage yet so I have no idea what to expect.

That day was bitter sweet, because when I went to go get my car (because I was going to be driving it in the next scene) I found that I had gotten broken in to. It was clear that whoever it was, was going for a laptop bag. Luckily the bag was mostly empty. They only took a webcam, but broke my window.

robbery in a parking garage

It could have been a whole lot worse. You may not be able to tell, but I had approximately half my life in my car at the moment of the break in. Plenty of expensive things that could have gotten stolen...and all they took was a webcam. I actually felt really blessed. Then I had to call the movie people and tell them I couldn't make it for the next scene.

The movie people were very understanding, and felt terrible. They took down my information to keep in touch, at which point I asked them about working for the movie. They gave me an address to e-mail my resume. If this break-in leads to a job working on another movie...I'd say it's a win.

Last night I had another small job for a BET show called "The Game". I was part of a group of paparazzi. I doubt I'll ever actually be seen on camera, but it was fun, and a good experience.

So here I am again, back to square 1. I suppose I'm going to have to get used to it; that's the way this business works. Right now I'm hoping to get a job on a crew (Production Assistant or set dresser?) for a movie or TV show. I'd really like to get an actual audition for something...preferably something that PAYS...but let's not get greedy. It seems that God has been illuminating ONLY the very next step, and in His own time. Sometimes I don't even know what I'll be doing tomorrow. It's been quite the adventure.

Matthew 6:34 "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

Since I arrived

Wanted to give an update on the movie situation. There has been so much happening that I could write for days...but I'll try to summarize.

Week 1:
A few days in Memphis spending time with Sam, Mariet, & their baby William. Then I traveled to Mississippi to start meeting people working on the movie. Campbell was still down there, his last day would be Friday. I was fortunate enough to meet all the people that Campbell had told me about, and his boss told me that he could use me for a week in mid September. I was excited for the chance to be working on the movie...but I'd believe it when I saw it!

I also found my way to the casting office, where the two ladies casting all the extras looked at me like I was an answered prayer. Apparently they had been looking for a blonde guy to be a stand in. I didn't know that I was blonde, or what a stand in was, but I was willing to hear more.

The 3 days I spent there ended with Campbell and I finding ourselves in a stretch limo driving to Clarksdale to go to Morgan Freeman's bar "Ground Zero".

That weekend I went back to Memphis because it was Sam's birthday, and I didn't have any reason to stay in Mississippi. I was quite bothered by the fact that I had left there without any reason to be back until September 18th.

Week 2:
Labor Day Monday, and then Tuesday came around. I was pretty discouraged on Tuesday...I had no reason to go back to Mississippi. No where to stay, and no way to justify spending money on a motel. That's when I got a phone call from the casting office. They wanted me to be a stand in on Wednesday and Thursday. In probably the only time I've ever been at a loss for words in my life, here was the entire phone conversation:

Jenn: "Hi Steven, this is Jenn from casting, I'm calling to see if you'd like to be a stand in tomorrow and thursday?"
Steven: "yes"
Jenn: "Ok.... I'll e-mail you the details of where to be and when. I think your call time is 7am. Have you ever been a stand in before?"
Steven: "no"
Jenn: "Ok...well just get there a little early and ask one of the experienced stand ins what you need to be doing. Look forward to seeing you tomorrow."
-click.

I was dumbfounded. I just got offered a job to work on a movie. Nevermind the fact that I don't really know what a stand in does, what I'm supposed to wear, what a "call time" is. That's all secondary...I'm going to be working on a major motion picture...tomorrow.

A stand in is someone who takes the place of the actor while the rest of the crew is setting up the shot. You literally just sit/stand there while the camera crew focuses the cameras on you, the lighting crew gets the lighting right. The props crew puts food in front of you, etc. You get to watch the entire room move like a living organism from the center of their attention. It is fascinating.

Whenever they aren't doing a scene with your character(s) in it, you just wait till they need you. You read, listen to music, eat free (and awesome) food, play video games, whatever. What I chose to do, was just watch. Everything and Anything that I could watch. I'd often stand behind the producers and directors as they watched the film on the monitors...being careful not to get in anyone's way. Everyone there is working; they don't have time to chit chat.

Being a stand in was an incredible experience. You get all the benefit of watching how a movie is put together with VERY little responsibility. I was able to see jobs that I would like to do, and ones that I wouldn't. It was like a crash course in film making from a "fly on the wall" perspective.

That Thursday evening, after they finished shooting, I was praying for a reason to stay. A job, a social gathering, whatever. I just needed a reason not to go back to Memphis just yet. I was explaining my predicament to a friend on the phone, when I walked into a coffee shop and saw one of the actors. He was a guy that Campbell had put me in touch with, and we'd been trying to connect for the past few days. He asked what I was doing later (nothing of course) and invited me to come have a beer with him and some of the guys.

What I eventually found out was that "some of the guys" turned out to be 12-15 of the principal actors/actresses. I spent the next few hours meeting the people who are IN the movie. One of the actors is a Christian...and we had an awesome conversation. He's someone who I will undoubtedly keep in touch with.

I spent the night in Mississippi, and then headed back to Memphis the next day.

Week 3:
More of the same! I spoke with the casting office before I left the week before, and they asked me to stand in again on Thursday and Friday. It was a new location this time with a lot of outdoor shots. Once again I watched the magic happen as often as possible and spoke with people who are working on the movie as much as I could. I want to know what their lives are like working in the movie business.

I had been really looking for a place to stay if my time in Mississippi was to continue, but was fine with staying in a motel for the time being. One of the days that I was on set, I met one of the producers. He asked where I was from, how I was liking being on the movie, etc. When he found out that I came down from Colorado, he asked where I was staying. I told him, and he then offered a room in the house that they have. The room just opened up. I wasn't able to take the room at the time (because I was about to start work on the set crew) but I really hope it works out when I get back!

Ok...so that brings us to present day. Week 4. I started working on the set crew last Saturday. What a blessing it has been.

It's tough work, we've had some 12 hour days, and some late nights, but they've treated us really well. They paid for everyone to have their own hotel room, gave us "per diem" money for food and entertainment, and the hourly wage ain't too shabby. Not to mention overtime...

As I mentioned before, set dressers set up the scene before the filming begins at that location. We started with a soda fountain type drug store. We cleared everything out that we didn't need, labeled it, and boxed it up. Then we brought in all the old stuff (1960's paraphernalia) and got to work. I worked on a toy display, sewing display, front counter/cash register. Products on shelves, pills in the pharmacy...you name it I probably touched it.

This job is not for people who get discouraged easily. There were PLENTY of times when I'd spend 30 mins-1hr on some project only to have it moved 20 mins later. All the while, I was thinking about how little you will actually see of this on the silver screen. Maybe not at all. But none of that matters. It's all part of making the movie happen. They can't film there unless we do all those meticulous little things to make the set look incredible. You've got to make sure the pharmacy looks like a 1960's pharmacy...even if it's 30 feet behind the actors. It all matters...and none of it matters at the same time. What a crazy industry.

The next couple of days we continued to work on the drug store and we started a street. An entire street of window displays. A gas station, theater, bakery, paint shop, hardware store, dry cleaners, etc. 10 stores in all I believe.

So I've spent the past 7 days working my tail off setting up scenes, then they'd film it, and then we'd take it down. Today was our last day.

I was told that they only needed me for a week, but the boss asked if I wanted to work for another week. Yet another blessing. God has been so good in all of this.

Forgive the fact that I'm being candid, I'm not entirely sure how much information I'm allowed to share. Pretty sure that I can tell you that the movie I'm working on is called "The Help." It's based on a book by Kathryn Stockett. Check it out on IMDb: The Help

Thank you for all your encouraging words and prayers. I'll do my best to keep you posted.

I never know what he's doing...

Sorry it's been so long since my last post. I've had a lot going on that I wish I would have written about, but not the time to do it.

About a month ago, I decided to take a leap of faith.

As many of you know, as a kid I was a child actor/model. My parents got me started as a model when I was 1 or 2 years old. We lived in Chicago at the time. I was in a number of print advertisements as well as a few commercials. Here is a picture of me in a Lee Jeans ad:


Many of you are thinking "what a cute kid...what happened?" I ask myself the same question all the time.

Anyway, as I got older, I began auditioning for movies. Although I got "called back" often, I was never actually in one. It wasn't until I was in 4th grade that I actually started acting. My 4th grade music teacher sent a letter home to my mother suggesting that I audition for a role in the high school musical at the school near by. They were looking for a 4th-6th grade boy soprano. Yes, I was a soprano before my voice changed.

I auditioned for the role as Colin in the Secret Garden and I got the part. For the next few months, I rehearsed along side the high schoolers in the show and eventually performed for audiences up to 2000 people. It was an incredible experience. My mom remembered that during one of the rehearsals I turned to her and said "mom...I was made for this. I LOVE this."

From there, I continued to be involved in local and (one time) professional theater. I was involved in children's choirs, theater productions, and continued to audition for movies. At that point, I knew. I wanted to be an actor.

However, it was during the professional play that I was in (Camelot) that I realized something about the other actors. THEY were professional actors. That's what they did...for their job. They couldn't have been making a ton of money. They certainly weren't famous. It was then that my perspective started to shift. I didn't want to be doing THAT for the rest of my life.

As I grew older, my desire to be "rich" began to overshadow my desire to be an actor. We moved to Memphis when I was 13, and the quality of theater productions just didn't compare to those in Chicago. Everything seemed "B rate" compared to what I had been involved in before. I continued acting and singing at "half-steam" throughout High School.

When it came time for college, I had no idea what I would do with my life...but I was fairly sure it wasn't acting. I knew by this point that it was an extremely difficult business to get in to, and for every 1 actor who was rich and famous, there were thousands that were struggling.

In the midst of all my college applications, I drove up to Miami of Ohio and auditioned as a Vocal Performance Major. I received a sizable scholarship...but didn't take it. "What am I going to do with a vocal performance degree?? be a music teacher?" no no....I wanted to actually make money.

I got accepted to the University of Georgia, and decided that's where I would go. It was a beautiful campus. I still had no idea what I wanted to do. While I was at Georgia, I was involved in the Men's Glee club. I thoroughly enjoyed my time there, but began convincing myself that it was time to cast that part of my life aside.

I eventually transferred to the University of Tennessee because of the Tennessee Lottery Scholarship that I was eligible for. I knew when I was transferring that I was finished with singing and acting all together.

At UT, I worked toward a degree in finance. I began working part time for an investment firm in Knoxville when I was a junior. I worked 15-20 hrs a week, and although I didn't LOVE it...I was convinced that once I was doing it full-time I would really enjoy it. I seemed to think that once It was my REAL job, I'd suddenly develop an interest in things like reading the Wall Street Journal.

When I graduated, they offered me a full-time job as an investment analyst. I quickly realized that what I didn't enjoy doing for 15-20 hours a week, I was now doing for 40. Part of me attempted to dive deeper into the financial world, while the other part of me was screaming for a way out.

6 months after I began working full-time (summer 2008), an opportunity arose at a Young Men's ministry in Colorado Springs. It was clear that it was the right move...so I jumped at the chance. I spent 3 months at a program called Training Ground which focuses on Work, Wilderness, and Worship. It undoubtedly was the vessel in which God used to change my life.

From there, I spent some time working at a decorative concrete surface company owned by a Mentor of mine in Knoxville. 8 months later, the guys at Training Ground asked me to be come on staff as an intern, and eventually the Assistant Director.

Over the past year at Training Ground, I've had a lot of time for self-reflection and pursuing my relationship with The Lord. Last October, I began to notice that God was stirring up certain desires in my heart. Desires to pursue entertainment again. I began praying about having an opportunity to sing in church or act in a local theater.

About a week later, a friend of mine called and asked me if I would sing in his wedding. "no way" I told him. There was no way I was ready for such a task. I hadn't sang on a stage in about 5 years. I eventually told him "I'd think about it."

It wasn't long before I realized that the opportunity I had been praying for...was right in front of my face. I reluctantly said yes.

It was this past January that my friend Todd got married to Christin, and I sang "I Will Be Here" by Steven Curtis Chapman. I was extremely nervous when they asked me to sing at the wedding rehearsal, but about halfway through the song I calmed down. It was like riding a bike. I had done this hundreds of times before...and I suddenly remembered: "I love this."

Since then, I've been actively praying and considering a career in entertainment. Not necessarily as an actor, but that's my primary passion. I have ALWAYS wanted to work in movies. That was my ultimate desire in all of it, and I wanted to know what the business was like. I began researching in any way I could. Reading books, making contact with actors. I wanted to know what life is like in the Movie Business.

Also in January, a Training Ground Alumni (who would quickly become a close friend) moved out to Colorado Springs. His name is Campbell Brewer. I told him that I was thinking about getting back into acting, and he admitted that he had secretly always been interested in film. We began making short films http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbr0E0fZIgc, and even doing things like podcasts http://reddbrew.podbean.com/. Even if nothing ever came of it, we were having a lot of fun.

In June, Campbell visited Tennessee for his brother's wedding. While in TN, he got wind of a movie that they were filming near by. He came down to see about being an extra in the film. Through a contact that he had, he eventually met the Set Director of the film, and was offered a job on the Set Dressing crew. I was jealous.

As 2 months went by, I sat in inner turmoil out in Colorado. I desperately wanted to be a part of the film. I would talk to Campbell on a weekly basis and hear about all the things he's seen and experienced. Every time I talked to him, I asked him if there were any job openings, and every time he told me "I'm sure you can get hired...you just have to come down here." I just couldn't take that risk.

Then, about a month ago, some things changed in my life. Doors seemed to be closing for me in Colorado, and I was becoming ready to leave. One day, I was speaking to Campbell on the phone and telling him about all the difficult things that were going on around me. He began telling me some awesome stories that were happening on the set. All of a sudden, in a moment of clarity, I thought to myself "what the heck am I still doing here?!" I asked Campbell (as I always did) if there were any jobs available. He answered (as he always did) "I'm sure we can get you a job...my boss will just want to know when you can be here." I said "two weeks."

"What?!" Campbell replied.
"2 weeks." I repeated. "If there is a job available, I can be there in 2 weeks."
"Really?! well...ok. I'll ask my boss!" Campbell answered.

And thus began the journey. Campbell asked his boss, and his boss told him that he'd be needing people for a week or two in September. That was good enough for me (barely). I was obviously hoping to work for the rest of the shoot, but I thought "who knows what might happen, God will be with me no matter what." I just needed to get down there.

So I left. I packed up my entire life in my Ford explorer, and headed down south. That was 2 weeks ago, and let me tell you...it's been an incredible experience already.

A Fly Fishing Trip Becomes an Adventure

About a month ago, Jeff Stelzner, his brother Dan, Campbell, Ryan, and I set out for a fly fishing trip in the black canyon. It looked as though the weather was going to be very cold and rainy, but we went anyway.

We had to take Jeff's truck, because from what he remembered, we would need 4 wheel drive, especially if it was raining. On the way out there, as we traveled over the mountains, it was literally snowing. I started to wonder if I was well enough prepared for this trip, but was comforted when we descended in altitude and the snow turned to rain.

There is a 7 mile dirt road that leads to the trail head, but because of all the rain it was extremely muddy. Jeff drove the seven miles with extreme care. We were all nervously looking out the windshield. There were a few times when Jeff would turn the wheel and the truck would continue to go straight. Not a good thing when you're driving into a canyon.

We made it to the trail head (barely) and camped under some of the picnic shelters.Jeff's truck the next morning

It was wet, cold, and rainy but we all stayed dry. In the morning, we ate a quick breakfast, and set out for the bottom of the canyon.

From everything we could tell before the trip, the water levels in the river were going to be higher than normal. Maybe up to 2000 cubic feet/second where as 800 seems to be pretty normal. However, when we reached the bottom of the canyon, we quickly realized that it was more like 3500-4000cfs. The river was very high. In fact, the trail that we were going to follow up to the campsite was completely submerged.

We traveled up as far as we could, but eventually couldn't go any farther. Jeff had brought a small inflatable raft and some string (to pull it back) in case we'd need to cross the river. We decided to cross to the other side where there appeared to be a great campsite.

Inflating the boat

Each guy would get in the raft with his own backpack and cross the fast moving river. Jeff crossed the river with ease, laying on his back in the raft and paddling backwards. Dan had a more difficult time with that method, and as the string was exiting my hands, I had to quickly tie on section of rope so that it would reach the other side. In the end, we had to let go of the rope. To my surprise, the knot held, but even with two sections of rope, we didn't have enough for Dan to make it all the way across. In the end Jeff had to re-cross the river to bring us the boat.

When it was my turn to cross, I decided to lay on my stomach and paddle forward. Campbell and Ryan used the same method. We all made it to the other side swiftly and safely.

The fishing wasn't great, but just being down in the canyon was incredible. If I ever got frustrated with the fishing, I would just sit and take in the view. The canyon walls were 800-1000 feet above where I was standing. The river was a beautiful green color. It was simply amazing. It was pretty rainy at first, but cleared up as the day went on.

By the end of the day, I had somehow caught 2 fish. Everyone else caught one except for Ryan who had napped in the sun for most of the day. As far as I was concerned, the fishing was just a bonus to an already incredible experience.

Me in the black canyon

casting

The next day we woke up early and fished for a few hours before we needed to cross over the river and head back. We started crossing about 12.

I made it over much more easily than the first time, as did Ryan. Dan tried laying on his stomach this time. It was easier for him than the first time, but still difficult to make it across. Jeff was holding the rope on the other side and had to run down the river with the boat so that the rope wouldn't run out.

Jeff retrieving the boat after Ryan's crossing

By the time Dan made it over, Jeff had let out all the string and was into the rope that I had tied on during the last crossing experience.

Dan's crossing, Ryan and I on the other side

As Dan pushed the raft out into the river, the knot in the string and rope failed. We had never checked it. None of us thought we would need to. The raft started floating down river.

Jeff immediately took off after it, scrambling to the best of his ability down the side of the river. I did the same on my side. I was wearing waders, so I could jump into the water and trudge through. Jeff eventually came to an impasse, and jumped into the water. He realized it was futile, and headed back to the shore.

I continued on until I slipped on a rock (full speed) and banged my hip on another rock in the water. I decided that I was finished running, and would simply watch, hoping that the raft would get beached or stuck on something. To my dismay, I watched as the raft disappeared over the rapids. It was gone.

As it was, Ryan, Dan and I were on the correct side of the river. Campbell and Jeff were stuck on the other side. Now we were faced with the task of figuring out how to get Campbell and Jeff...and their backpacks...back to the proper side. I yelled out a few ideas, but for the most part it was up to them. They started brainstorming.

They decided to make a raft out of wood and thermarest sleeping pads.

Raft of wood and thermarest mattresses

As I waited for them to build the raft, I decided to move downstream. What was mere hours, seemed like days as I waited for them to execute their plan. I tried to think of any other way for them to cross but came up with nothing. The best I could do was wait downstream. That way if they lost hold of their gear, I could jump in to save it as a last line of defense.

I probably waited there for 30 minutes before Ryan started heading my way. As he neared me, he yelled something. I couldn't understand him over the rushing water. "What? I can't hear you..." I kept saying. Finally I heard him say "KAYAKERS!" and point towards the trail. I turned around but saw nothing. "WHERE?" I yelled. He answered but once again I couldn't make out what he was saying. I kept looking to where he was pointing but saw nothing. Finally, a flash of red came from behind some of the brush. Ryan was right, there were people over there. Kayakers. Maybe they could help. I put my waders back on and started making my way towards them.

I soon realized that they were only minutes away from paddling down the rapids. I had to run again. Rock scrambling, running through the water in my waders, and occasionally finding some solid ground. I was about 50 feet from where I could see the kayakers, when I slipped again (at full speed), this time banging my shin on a rock. I hobbled through the rest of the brush, and yelled to the kayakers, just as two of them were entering the rapids.

The other two paddled up to me. In between gasping breaths, I explained the situation. The young woman, asked the guy if he minded going down the rapids alone. He reluctantly agreed, and she agreed to help in whatever way she could.

She paddled up stream and Ryan directed her to Campbell and Jeff. I limped back to where Ryan was, and sat down. I could finally breathe. It seemed as though we had a solution to our problem.

More time passed. I didn't know what could be taking so long. I kept looking nervously upstream for some sign of something happening. I would have walked up there, but my shin was throbbing me. It felt like someone had hit it with a hammer. I was content in that I felt like my part in all of this was finished. I had done what I could.

As I saw the kayaker paddling across the river, I realized that they had tied their makeshift raft to the back of her kayak, and she was towing it across. In a burst of excitement, I ran back up to meet her on the other side of the river.

I helped her untie the gear, gratefully thanked her, and pulled out the video camera. I got some great footage as Campbell and Jeff dove in the freezing water and swam across.

We made our way to the trailhead and I took off my waders. Apparently when I had hit my shin, my knee had split open. The waders were fine, but my knee was bleeding and stuff was hanging out. No wonder it had been hurting so badly.

My knee after the injury

Jeff (an EMT) bandaged me up, and I hobbled my way up the trail with a 30 lb pack. Our adventure was over.

Babysitting

About a week ago, my boss Cory and his wife Christine asked me to watch their 14 month old daughter (Sage) for an hour and a half. They told me that it would be during her nap time, so I could just hang out. I agreed to babysit.

When I arrived at their house, Christine had just put Sage down for her nap. Christine told me that this would be a breeze. I literally wouldn't have to do anything unless Sage woke up before they got home, at which point I should just give her a bottle and play with her in the living room. "You won't even have to change a diaper." Christine told me.

Before she left, Christine told me that the day before, Sage had gotten her leg stuck in the bars of her crib after taking her diaper off and peeing in her bed. Christine didn't know who else to call as everyone she knew was unavailable, so she called the fire department. 4 fire men showed up to free a naked 14 month old from the cage that was her crib. The point of her telling me this story was to explain how I would get Sage out if she got stuck again, but somehow I knew this babysitting job wouldn't be quite as easy as everyone thought.

After Christine left, I wrote some e-mails and worked on a few things before sitting down to watch some TV. Not long later, I heard noises from upstairs. Sage wasn't crying, but she was definitely awake. I wasn't sure if she hadn't gone to sleep yet, or had woken up early, but Christine had told me that when Sage was up, she would start crying. I decided to wait.

The noise stopped, so I had good reason to believe that Sage had gone back to sleep. 5 minutes later, she was making noise again. Not crying, just noise. I stood at the bottom of the stairs listening, and hoping she would go back to sleep. The process repeated. She would be quiet for a few minutes, then stir for a little, then quiet. After about 20 minutes of this, she started crying. I admitted defeat and started heading upstairs. It seemed like Sage was up for good, and only 45 minutes after Christine had left.

I walked up the stairs and opened the door. Nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see. Sage was standing in her crib, holding her diaper in her hand, and there was poop...everywhere. I'm serious. It was all over the crib, all over her hands, and even on her face...It was on her shirt, on the floor, in her hair, you get the idea. She was like a little monkey flinging her feces festively. It was disgusting. In an entirely calm but disbelieving voice I said "oh no...Sage...what have you done". She looked excited and happy to see me as she held her arms out requesting for me to pick her up. I didn't want to, but I knew I had to.

Thinking back, I'm guessing that I haven't babysat in almost 10 years. Even then I only babysat for kids who were potty trained. I have very little baby experience, and yet...I didn't panic. Looking at the situation as a whole would have been far too overwhelming. I decided to take it one step at a time. Step one: get the poop off the baby.

I didn't know how in the world I was going to clean her up, I was so unprepared for this. What I DID know was that I needed to get her and myself out of that room because it smelled awful. I picked her up, held her at arms distance, and walked downstairs with no discernible plan for step 1.

All of a sudden the bathtub caught my eye. It seemed logical, give the baby a bath right? Well yes, but I had never given a baby a bath before. Could I even do this? Was this inappropriate? It didn't matter, it was my only option.

I put her in the adult sized tub next to the little baby tub for her. I started warming up the water while I tried to get her out of the rest of her clothes. She was handing me toys in a playful manner, clearly unaffected by the situation.

Bath time seemed to be a treat for her, for me it was awkward and scary. I had to remind myself that this wasn't something I was doing out of choice, it was out of necessity. I didn't read too much into it, I simply treated it as a problem that needed to be solved.

Every little thing was new to me. I looked around for baby soap and found some. It seemed kinda watery so I wasn't sure if this is how baby soap is, or if Sage had dumped the soap out and refilled it with water. I just went with it.

Step 1: check. Step 2: dry the baby off. This may seem like a no-brainer to most of you, but I had to think about it. Sage isn't stable enough on her own two feet for me to simply stand her up and dry her off like a dog or something. Don't worry, I figured it out. I "swaddled" her in a towel, and made my way over to the changing station. Yes that's right, Step 3: diaper.

On any other day, this would have been a bit more overwhelming, but after giving Sage a bath to get her own POOP off of her, a diaper didn't seem too far fetched. I grabbed a diaper, logically decided which side was the front, and then started looking for other diaper necessities. Do I need to wipe her? Am I supposed to use baby powder? I found a box of wipes and decided "better safe than sorry". I couldn't find baby powder, which was a relief because I wouldn't have known what to do with it anyway.

Step 3: check. Step 4: clothes.

I brought Sage upstairs, back into the poop room, and started looking for clothes. I wasn't sure which articles of clothing fit her and which didn't. I attempted to find a matching outfit, but quickly gave up on that. Finally I found a pair of jeans that looked like they fit, and started to figure out how one clothes a baby.

After all of this, I hadn't even considered how I would clean up the poop mess. If it had been any other situation, I would have figured out a way to multi-task, but this was a baby. I couldn't exactly leave her in the bathtub to bathe herself while I attended to the disaster in her bedroom. She's 14 months old...I've got enough sense to know that you can't leave those things alone in a bathtub.

Luckily I didn't have to tackle the rest of the mess alone. Cory got home a little earlier than I expected, and after finding me no where downstairs, came upstairs to look for me. I was busy putting elastic waist jeans on a baby. He came in the room and asked "what's up?". I replied "we had a little accident". He exclaimed "holy crap!" I added "literally", and thus I was saved from cleaning up the mess alone.

Cory and Christine were quite proud of how I handled the situation, and looking back on it, so was I. It was trial by fire, but I made it through. It's amazing how God seems to be continually initiating me into manhood; teaching me things that I had never considered something that I'd need to know. Ya learn something new everyday.

The Half Marathon

The past two weeks I visited a few places in the south. The purpose of me being there was to run the (half) marathon, and then be in my friend Forrest's wedding. It was quite an eventful time for many reasons, but I'll focus on the half marathon for now.

I flew into Atlanta for the half marathon and to help my friend James unpack from his recent return to the ATL. I hung out for a few days with James and his roommates Drew and James, and then it was time for the half marathon. I was not looking forward to it because I hadn't run in nearly 2 months.

Race day started off pretty poorly. I had only gotten about 4 hours of sleep the night before, and when I woke up I had a lot of congestion. The weather was cold with the promise of rain. Not exactly ideal, but we were excited none-the-less.

Fast forward to the start of the race. James and I are wearing ridiculous running shirts and shorts, along with hot pink hats. For breast cancer...duh. The race begins, and there are literally thousands of people beginning to run. We sneak in at Corral C with the serious runners. I probably won't do that next time. We started at a pace a little faster than we were all comfortable with, but eventually just held back and let the serious runners pass.

I was very worried about my knee, but I had gotten a new brace the day before and had high hopes. I was basically expecting a miracle.

I had joked with James and my sister that if I was feeling good, I might split off and run the full marathon, but I had absolutely no reason to believe it was a possibility.

By mile 3 or 4, I was feeling great. A little bit of race day adrenaline was kicking in and my knee was feeling up to the challenge. I began seriously considering going for the full marathon...26.2 miles.

Around mile 6, my knee started hurting. It wasn't a dull and gradually increasing pain like before. It hit, and it hit hard. I had to walk for a little bit. I knew that the full marathon was completely out of the question, now I was wondering if I could even complete the half.

We began walking more than we were running about that time. James and my sister were extremely gracious about the pain I was in and didn't care about their own times. We all just wanted to do it together.

We were in no hurry at all. When we had to pee, we stopped. When we wanted a drink, we walked till we were finished with it. There were even a few times when we began looking for a coffee shop because we were all a little tired...we didn't find one though. I began getting pretty frustrated. We tried running a few times here and there, but the pain was just too much. Luckily it was mostly just in the right knee.

My parents came to Atlanta that weekend to see me and to be there for me, my sister, and James on race day. They waited at a CVS around mile 8. As the three of us were getting closer to where my parents would be, a shooting pain went through my knee that almost made me collapse. I began thinking that it might be a good idea to stop when I saw my parents, and ride back with them.

When we got to where my parents were, I wasn't feeling good about anything, but James and my sister assured me that they didn't mind walking the rest of the way if need be. Even though I felt ashamed about my condition, I decided to accept their offer, and go the rest of the way. I just wanted to finish it.

The next 5.1 miles were awful. lots of walking, a little running, and lots of pain. As we got within a quarter mile of the finish line, I suggested we pick up the pace and finish running rather than walking. After about 20 feet, the pain was so great that I felt like stopping, but I pushed through. I was angry. I was going to finish that dang race running no matter what. We finished, and I remained angry.

Over the course of this injury, I've definitely been praying about it. There are some days when I ask God "what are you trying to tell me in all of this". There are other days when my attitude is more of "well, it is what it is...". Then there are still other days when my attitude is "Dang it God! Why is this happening to me?"

I've recently been reading a book called The Prodigal God. In the book, Tim Keller talks about the "parable of the prodigal son" highlighting not the younger "prodigal" brother, but rather the elder brother in the story. You can read about these two brothers in Luke 15:11-31.

Part of Tim Keller's point is that while the younger brother recognized his sin and need for forgiveness, the elder brother did not. He had lived a morally "good" life and felt that he "deserved" certain things because of it. He put his faith in his self as a savior, and not the savior Jesus.

It's easy to look at both these brothers and point fingers at things that they've done wrong, but I've become more and more aware of these same qualities in myself. Specifically qualities of the elder brother.

Not that I would have been able to admit it before, but I've seen that when I do "good things" I hope, and even expect, to be rewarded. That is to say "God, look at all these things I've done...now why is my knee hurting? Why hasn't money come in like It "should" be? Why...are things not going perfectly?"

It's not the way God works. He works for the good of those who love Him, and sometimes that means knee pain. I don't know why, but I know this: God is committed to the continuous process of sanctifying us (making us more Christ-like)...and growth is usually very difficult. I've learned lessons in this marathon thing that I suppose I couldn't have otherwise learned, and I thank The Lord for that.

God is Prodigal (definition: recklessly spendthrift) in that he has given to us that which we don't deserve. Forgiveness.

Check out The Prodigal God by Timothy Keller

Marathon part Tres

It's been quite some time since my last blog, and I apologize for leaving both my readers in suspense.

In the last blog, I left you with this "After I got back to Colorado Springs, I was surprised that I actually wasn't doing so shabby up here as well. My first two runs back in Colorado, I averaged 9-9.5 minute miles. I was thoroughly proud of myself...and then it happened."

My third run while I was back in Colorado was a 7 mile run. It was going very well for the first two miles and then my legs started to tighten up. Since I have gotten quite good at allowing myself to stop if I need to, I decided to take a short break to stretch. After stretching, I continued the run, and completed the final 5 miles without needing to stop.

I was pretty excited that I was doing so well after having been back in Colorado for only a few days. When I got home, I stretched, and started to draw a cold bath (since that's a good thing to do after longer runs.) As I was walked down the stairs, all of a sudden, I felt a shooting pain in my left knee.

I was pretty shocked and confused at first. It came out of no where. There was no dull pain to indicate that more pain was coming. I hadn't tweaked it, twisted it, or otherwise hurt it on the run. I didn't know what the deal was, so I decided to take the cold bath and not worry about it. It was probably nothing.

The next day, still hurting. The day after that, not any better and not any worse. I iced it, I heated it, I did all the right things, but no change. It was not bad enough to see a doctor (yet), but bad enough to keep me from running. I started doing research.

I found a few possible explanations, but the most likely was Chondromalacia Patella, commonly known as "runner's knee". http://orthopedics.about.com/cs/patelladisorders/a/chondromalacia_2.htm

This is the passage that made it really hit home:

"Does this sound like your situation?
You're a self-proclaimed athlete--certainly in shape, but not quite a professional runner/cyclist/etc. You decide to train for the local 10-mile race, or perhaps even a marathon, maybe you're a cyclist who is riding more than usual. Your knee starts to give you trouble, so you see your doctor and are diagnosed with chondromalacia."

The answer was yes...well, all except the doctor part because I hadn't been. The problem was, the recommendation for treatment is several weeks of rest, and then slowly rehabilitating it with leg exercises. I didn't have that kind of time.

I decided if it got any worse, I'd go see a doctor. It never got worse, only stayed the same. I had finally resolved to go see a doctor (about 3 weeks later), when all of a sudden it started getting better. I was very excited, but that didn't change the fact that I had already missed 3 weeks and would undoubtedly miss 2-3 more. I became pretty sure that my dream of running this marathon had been shattered. I was positive that I wasn't going to be able to run the full marathon and pretty sure I wasn't going to be able to run the half either.

I called James to tell him the bad news, and he wasn't nearly as disappointed as I had thought he would be. He hoped that I would be able to run the half marathon and if not, no big deal. That was a relief.

A week or so later, I decided to get a knee brace and run a local 5k. I figured if I could run 3 miles I might be able to get back into the training and at least do the half-marathon. I was a little worried that I was biting off more than I could chew starting back with 3.1 miles, but I went for it anyway.

It went great! I didn't break any speed records or anything, but I ran the whole thing and my knee didn't hurt. Maybe the half was in my sights after all.

At a certain point, James decided he simply had too much on his plate to train for a marathon, so he decided to do the half as well. It looked like all three of us (me, James, and my sister) were going to be doing the half, if my knee was up for it.

I started running 3 miles a few times a week to ease back into it, all while wearing the brace. 3 or 4 runs later, guess what. The other knee started having the same problem. I couldn't believe it. I was devastated.

Throughout this whole marathon process, I've been seeking God. When the injuries happened, it was no different. I kept praying and asking God his purpose in all of it. I was frustrated, hurt, angry, etc. I prayed for healing and it didn't come. Clearly God had a lesson for me to learn in all of it, I just didn't know what it was.

I couldn't even bring myself to go to the gym and ride a bike (that actually hurt my knee too) or swim or anything. I knew that there were things I could do to keep my fitness level up, but I was done. I was out. I was defeated.

I couldn't stay down about it for long, I started swimming and doing other cross-training exercises, but it wasn't the same. I wanted to run.

Then I found something out. My sister, although she has been training diligently since November, was never really planning on running the entire half marathon. She set her goals to walk/run the 13.1. Maybe I would just walk/run it with her. If my knee hurt, I'd walk. Sounded like a good plan.

I talked to James the other day. He knew that my knee was still bothering me and said "so what are you planning on doing?" I told him the plan, and he said "look man...if we have to walk the thing, we'll walk it."

That's when it all became clear. This marathon was never about finishing. It was about pushing myself and encouraging others to do the same. It was about setting a goal, and going for it, no matter the outcome. It was about risking. It was about perseverance. It was about striving for excellence but being content with less.

By the time that I arrive in Atlanta for the race, it will be about spending time with one of my best friends and my sister. I can't wait.

God knows what we need...whether we do, or not.

Marathon part Deux

Even though I only recently published the Marathon Training blog about my first two weeks running, that actually happened back in October. A lot has happened since then, both good and bad.

I realized pretty early on that I knew absolutely nothing about running a marathon, so I started looking into it. The Internet is a powerful resource. As it turns out, a lot of experienced marathoners recommend that you have been already running steadily for about a year before attempting a marathon. You should be comfortable running between 3 and 6 miles, and averaging 10-15 miles a week. That bothered me a little bit. Not only did I despise running at my very core, I also wasn't good at it. I started to doubt the possibility of running this thing.

When I was first thinking about running this marathon, I couldn't help but look toward the end of the training schedule. I was seeing numbers like 16, 18, and 20 and was thinking "MILES!?"

I spoke with a friend about it, and she told that there's an old proverb that asks: How do you eat an elephant? The answer: one bite at a time…touché.

I realized that I don't need to worry about what will happen in week 15 of training. I only need to worry about today...and today was 3 miles...not 20.

So I began eating this elephant one bite at a time. I'd run 3 miles, and then look forward to another 3 mile run tomorrow. 5 miles on Saturday wasn't thrilling, but I knew I could do it...I had already done it accidentally the week before (see previous blog).

In the midst of this, I spoke with one of the teachers at Training Ground, because he is quite the marathon veteran. He has given me some really sound advice. One of the things he said was, instead of worry about exactly how many miles you run, just run for time. If you run about a 10 minute mile and you're supposed to run 3 miles, just run for 30 minutes. Sometimes you'll run a little bit more, sometimes a little bit less, but none of that matters, because running a marathon is all about running for an extended period of time. I thought that was amazing. Previously I had been tracking my exact miles and exact times to see exactly how fast I was running per mile. I needed to let that go and just run.

It got to the point where running eventually became, dare I say it, enjoyable. I remember running a particular 7 mile run, and coming back with a "runner's high". Before this day, I didn't know that this was a real thing. I was acting like I had it all together on the outside, but on the inside my body was having a party! I wondered if I should be driving home in this condition...seriously. I'll admit, it was pretty awesome.

So I continued. 3 miles, 6 miles, 3 miles, rest, 8 miles, cross train, rest, 3 miles, etc.

I was still a pretty slow runner. I would average 9.5-10.5 minute miles, but I could go longer distances. And then, I visited my parents in FL for Christmas.

This altitude thing is no joke. The air is pretty thin up here at 7300 feet. I didn't realize how much I was really affected by going back to sea level. I remember being shocked when I would go out for an "easy" 3.5 mile run and finish in less than 30 minutes. All of a sudden I was averaging 8.5 minute miles...even on 9 and 10 mile runs. The improvement was incredible.

After I got back to Colorado Springs, I was surprised that I actually wasn't doing so shabby up here as well. My first two runs back in Colorado, I averaged 9-9.5 minute miles. I was thoroughly proud of myself...and then it happened.

(to be continued)

Marathon Training

I started training for a marathon back in October. I would never have considered myself a runner before. I hated running, I was incredibly slow, I had no "technique". I was just plain terrible.

Recently, I've been thinking and praying a lot about my need for perfection. If something I do isn't perfect, I focus more on the failure than the success of whatever I've done. For instance, if I was to run a mile and it took me say 11 minutes at this altitude, I wouldn't have been proud of the fact that I ran a mile, but merely focused on the fact that it took me 11 minutes. "I should have been able to do it faster, so and so can run it in 8 minutes" etc.

This topic was on the forefront of my mind when my friend James called me one day in October. He asked if I would be interested in running a marathon with him in Atlanta in March (21 weeks away). I said no. No way. He said "we'd be running it for a cause...breast cancer". I said "James...there is no way I could run a marathon. period. I'm not a runner, I'm terrible at running" etc.

He asked me to think about it, and I agreed to.

When he e-mailed me the 18 week training schedule I saw that the first week was 3 miles on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, rest Friday, and 6 miles on Saturday. 6 miles was already more miles than I had ever run consecutively in my life. The marathon was looking less and less realistic.

I spoke with James the next day and came up with a compromise. Since the 18-week training schedule would start in 3 weeks, I'd give myself 3 weeks to think about it. I would come up with my own pre-training, training schedule, and see what happened.

My first week was 1 mile tuesday, 2 wednesday, 2 thursday, and 3 saturday. It went fairly smoothly, aside from my unrealistic expectations of what I should be capable of. I slowly began to become ok with "where I am". I realized that I'm not a runner, I never have been a runner, so for me to go out and run a mile in 7 minutes at 7300 ft (the altitude where I live) is just plain unrealistic. I needed to be ok with an 11 minute mile.

Week 2: 2 miles tuesday, 2 miles wednesday, 2 miles thursday, and 4 miles saturday.

The Saturday run was the turning point. I got on GoogleMaps, and mapped out a route that would take me 2 miles in one direction. Then I would turn around and come back. Seems simple enough right?

I started running at the end of my driveway, made a couple of simple turns, and began looking for "A street". 15 minutes passed, no A street. 20 minutes passed, still no A street. 25 minutes passed, still nothing. I began to get discouraged. I had been running for 25 minutes, and if I haven't passed A street (which is 2 miles from my house) then I've been running slower than a 13 minute mile! That's not so good...at all.

At around 28 minutes of running, I decided I would turn around at the next road, and just re-map it from there. I thought maybe I had passed A street without seeing it and would see it on the way back. No such luck. I became pretty disappointed in my performance.

I ran back to my house, and stopped the clock at 55 minutes. I started thinking about what this could mean. Perhaps, I missed the road (both times) and had really run more than 4 miles? Maybe they re-named the road and Google hasn't updated it yet. Or, worst case scenario, I ran for 55 minutes and didn't even make it 4 miles. It sounded like an awful possibility. I realized in that moment that I HAD to be ok with that. I HAD to be ok with where I am. I needed to stop putting so much emphasis on my running performance, when I have clearly never been a runner before. Rather than going straight to a computer to figure out my actual distance, I "sat" with these feelings for a while. I took a shower, changed clothes, ate some food, etc.

Finally I went to the computer. I remembered that I turned around at Furrow Rd, so I Googled it. As it turned out, Furrow Rd was 2.5 miles from my house! I had run 5 miles when I only expected to run 4! Yes...I ran it at an 11 minute pace, but I was fine with that! It was cold outside, I was running at 7300 feet, I was ok with an 11 minute mile.

I knew in that moment that the marathon was possible. I called James, and committed to running with him.