Reblogged from Health & Family:

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Everything old becomes new again, so it was just a matter of time before the next big thing in fitness turned out to be climbing and running and jumping — you know, the things you used to do as a kid and before you knew it was exercise.

It's a new year, which means gyms are brimming with people working up a sweat to fulfill New Year's resolutions.

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Be inspired. Get up. Get out. Get moving.

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I finally got around to it. One of my online friends, Vincent Chough, asked me to review his memoir Brave Fish LAST YEAR! Isn’t that pathetic? I told you I was a slacker.

So, at last, below is my Goodreads review of Brave Fish:

Brave Fish: Identity, Love, Faith by Vincent H. Chough

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

It is always refreshing to read a memoir that is what a memoir should be: honest and transparent. Vincent Chough pulls no punches in revealing his character through some of his life’s challenges. It’s tough to like him sometimes as he admits to some poor choices. But what I love about Vincent is that he does not hide his mistakes or attempt to pain himself as something he isn’t. What is most admirable about the memoir is his confessional style of narrating that makes the reader realize that everyone screws up sometimes, nobody’s perfect.

Chough is also a pretty darn fantastic writer. And, best of all, he has a keen understanding that writing is therapy.

I recommend this book, especiially if you love memoirs or if you are a writer.

By the way, I’ve mentiioned Chough’s book before in a previous post.

View all my reviews

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Last week, I finished Exuberant Animal by Frank Forencich. Movnat aficionados and Paleo lifestyle enthusiasts hail the book as the essential primal lifestyle text. Since I’ve developed an interest in the Paleo fitness movement, I decided to check it out.

I’ve wondered when my faith would clash with much of what pulls the Paleo program along, views about evolution and natural selection, and it finally happened in this book. Much of what I have read, including McDougall’s Born to Run, has been brief and subtle, used to enhance or explain the physical, medical, or nutritional aspects of the human species. But almost never offensive.

Until I read this book.

Near the beginning of the book, during a discussion of the complexity of the human body, Forencich uses the scenario of parents telling their children that a stork brings babies to demonstrate how some refuse to “view the human body in a larger ecological context…independent of the world and the environment (34).” Forencich is, of course, an advocate of the “human as animal” viewpoint. This has never bothered me. It is reasonable to classify humans as animals, as we have all of the qualifying characteristics. It is also reasonable to view humans as “above” animals (Mr. Forencich would disagree), since we are more sophisticated.

Had Forencich said that he believed humans were animals, that we evolved over time, that our current health and fitness suffers because we have neglected our evolutionary roots…? No offense taken, point made, even respected.

Instead…

“Creationists are the worst offenders in this regard, the most notorious perpetrators of storkisms. As they tell it, the human body was simply called into being by a supreme organism. This storkish deity brought the human body to earth and now our species stands alone, independent from and superior to the rest of the biosphere (34).”

Apparently, Forencich doesn’t know very many true creationists.

To compare the view of creation to the myth of the stork is to do what many disrespectful atheists choose to do: poke fun at the “absurdity” of God, of intelligent design. Forencich would like to believe that creationists can’t “explain” their beliefs, that this view is full of holes, just as the stork view is full of holes.

It gets worse.

Forencich actually “quotes” all creationists as saying, “The natural world is astonishingly complex in its details; it is beyond our capacity to explain or understand it. Therefore, a stork created it.”

If Mr. Forencich knew more about the source of his “jokes” he might express his views differently.  I know enough about other beliefs, theories, views, religions, to know that they also have holes and may even seem “absurd.” But I don’t know enough to crack jokes that seem too personal and a bit unnecessary, especially if I am writing a book about fitness and health.

The comments from Forencich were personal and unnecessary.

Also, I don’t know very many creationists who feel that humans are “independent from” the “rest of the biosphere.” On the contrary, many Christians view creation as a whole, as God’s, and they pay great respect to the fact that all other parts of the “biosphere” were created by God before man. And the Bible says that all of creation was designed for God’s glory, not for Man’s. Most Christians (the true ones, anyway) view creation as all-encompassing (the universe, animals, plants, etc.) with one common purpose: to glorify God.

I finished the book, in spite on this little jab, and I even gave it a decent review because the book does contain useful and excellent advice for fitness, nutrition, and health. And because I paid for it.

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I’ve commented before on my belief that things happen for a reason. Would it be weird for me to also believe this extends to literature?

Let me explain.

I have always been outdoorsy, active, and more comfortable barefoot than in shoes. My growing interest in Primal/Paleo fitness movements like MovNat has also uncovered an interest in living more simply and mindfully, eating healthier, and… barefoot shoes.

I spend a lot of time on my feet at work. As a teacher, much of my day is spent either standing at the front of the room or walking down the aisles while my students work, discuss, cooperate. About a year ago, I started waking up in the morning with a sharp pain in my heel. It felt like someone had stuck a needle deep into my heel while I slept. I would limp around the house as I got dressed, trying to bend and stretch the pain away. Eventually, it would subside a bit, but flare up as the day passed on.

Naturally, I blamed my shoes. No way were my $20 Walmart specials healthy for me as I spent most of my day working my dogs to the bone (forgive the bad metaphor). I must need more support, more padding. So I bought new shoes, American Eagle high-tops, with thick sneaker soles and arch support.

The morning after a long day at work, wearing my new shoes, the agony in my foot now resembled the pain you might feel if someone shoved a pencil through your heel.

This repeated off and on for several months. It couldn’t be the shoes. I blamed foot strain and figured it was the curse of anyone who works on their feet. I knew other teachers with occasional foot pain and my greatest hope was that the pain was not permanent and would probably be nonexistent in the summer.

Man, was I wrong about that.

Over time, I began to see a pattern. When I wore my shoes throughout the day, my heel often hurt the next morning. If I spent most of the day barefoot, there was no pain. After an early morning in which my heel was causing my agony again, I Googled ”pain in my heel.”

Plantar fasciitis. Some of the remedies were extreme (amputation!), but most of them recommended solutions like orthotics, regular foot massages, soaking your feet in warm salt water, and ointments. But my favorite suggestion?

Go barefoot.

Maybe it was no coincidence that while on vacation, after hours of walking at the beach on both sand and pavement, I never woke up with a stinging pain. At home, after walking around the house or in the yard without shoes, no pain. And even after my MovNat workouts, barefoot mixed with vigorous exercise, no pain in the morning. There had to be some truth to this barefoot idea.

Enter Born to Run.

I stumbled onto Chris McDougall‘s Born to Run while reading about Vibram Five Fingers, possibly the most popular barefoot shoes on the market. The article I read hailed Born to Run as the book that launched the barefoot running craze. However, I put off reading the book for quite a while as I wandered down my laundry list of other “books you must read before you die.”

I finally checked out an e-book version after reading strong reviews on Goodreads. And… Wow. Without exaggeration, the book seemed to speak to all of my recent hobbies and interests. The book is part adventure story, part fitness book, part memoir, part barefoot manifesto.

McDougall makes some bold claims in this book about the benefits of running barefoot, citing barefoot living as the treatment for many foot ailments such as… you guessed it… plantar fasciitis.

I’m not going to give a full plot review of the book here, mostly because it is tough to explain, and the less you know about it the better (yeah, it’s one of those books.) And your experience with it may not match mine since it just seemed to be the right book at the right time. But you can read my review here.

Since reading Born to Run, I’ve made a vow: to be true to my barefoot nature. To wear shoes only when necessary, and even then to wear minimalist shoes that come close to being barefoot. I’ve joined the growing barefoot revolution, relishing the feet-to-earth connection that takes me to childhood and somehow links me to something deeper that I can’t explain.

You should try it, too. Go ahead. Take your shoes off.

Reblogged from The Return of the Modern Philosopher:

I was unpleasantly surprised this afternoon when I went to set up the train track beneath my Christmas tree and was told by the tiny conductor that he would be unable to guide the train right now because the Toy Train Workers were on strike.  The proprietors of the little stores that I set up in the town surrounded by the train tracks informed me that they would not be reporting to work, either, in support of their friends in the TTW Union.

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Very funny stuff.

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I think West Virginians forget every year that we live in a temperate region.

Every year, I hear grunts and grumbles as temperatures rise into the 60s and 70s in December. “This is nuts,” people say. Or my favorite, “The world’s gotta be ending because this is not normal.” Funniest thing about these comments is that the same people usually grumble when temperatures drop into the 30s.

I love living in West Virginia for the simple fact that most of the time, the weather is consistent. In the late fall, you can expect cold mornings and mild afternoons, with the occasional snow burst or cloud cover that cools and holds temperatures down a bit more.

So it must be surprising to my neighbors when I step out on my front porch in the mornings, bundled up in a lambs wool sweater and knit hat, a warm cup of coffee in my hand, to watch my breath puff out of my mouth or listen for early morning critters scuttling around on the hillside.

Or maybe it shocks them even more as the afternoon warms when I shed my boots and socks and walk around barefoot in the yard, relishing the cool feel of the grass and the squish of damp ground.

I welcome winter and colder temperatures. I always have. Although, like most people, I don’t enjoy driving in snow/ice, there is just something special about wintry weather that is unmatched in any other season. A good, heavy snow covers everything with a mute stillness that calms my nerves. While I’m not crazy enough to shed my boots and socks, the child in me still enjoys a tumble and frolic through the snow, lying on my back with the sting of snowflakes falling on my face.

As the weather gets colder, I get antsy. A good snowfall makes me long for a quiet hike, alone time on the porch with a mug of coffee, and peaceful nights under warm blankets. I pray for snow days this time of year so I can actually stay home and enjoy it, rather than watch it fall from a classroom window.

I saw the weather forecast for this week. It’s supposed to snow Friday.

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Not much will inspire a writer to update his blog like a request from a published author to review a book.

Benjamin Carey, an author from New York, NY sent the request via Goodreads. It was riddled with compliments that really made my day. Us writers really know how to suck up. I’m kidding.

Ben’s request started with a reference to my favorite writer, Donald Miller: “Did you see Donald Miller has a new book called Storyline?”

Hmm… I did know that. Proceed.

“I was thinking about you yesterday when I saw it because you’re the one who recommended A Million Miles in a Thousand years to me. I loved that book.”

Yes! One of my favorites. Please continue.

After a polite greeting, Ben hit me with the real zinger: “You are very well read, and I need a good review from someone solid. Would you be so kind as to do a review of my book Barefoot in November…” Then, as a display of his contagious sense of humor, Ben said, “If it turns out that you read it and do not like it, you could just disregard my request “

I already love this guy. If his personality, friendliness, and “heart” are any indication of his writing style, I know I will love it. In fact, a while ago I entered a giveaway for the book on Goodreads and did not win. The challenge is for me to finish the book before Heart Month, February.

This is what writers do. We really are a community. Ben has encouraged me to continue to work on my book and promises to also give me a glowing review. It’s a good thing, because I will need someone solid who is very well read to review my book.

You can learn more about Ben and his book Barefoot in November at Heartosaurus.com or follow Ben on Twitter @BenjaminJCarey

Reblogged from Remember me with favor, O My God.:

So, I mentioned in my last post about girls and standards that I believed a shared faith is so essential, at least to me.  I mentioned that she should be headed in the same spiritual direction as me, and she should earnestly try to live her life with integrity in all areas.  And I think it's a very reasonable standard to have, and one on which I could never compromise. 

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Reblogged from Eddie Poole's Blog:

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I don’t want to lead a “church”.  That probably sounds weird since I'm a pastor of a church.    By saying that, I mean “church” as most in America probably would define the term.         (BTW, I LOVE leading MJLife!)

Most would define “church” as something you go to on Sundays.  I’ve been guilty of slipping into the mindset at times too.  Living for each Sunday.

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Great blog post about "church" from one of my followers, Eddie Poole.

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I am not the same person I was fifteen years ago. I have my wife to thank for most of that.

Fifteen years ago, I was a smoker, just making it through my classes at West Virginia State University. At the time, there were smoking lounges all over campus, almost one in each building. I spent a lot of time in the Hill Hall lounge because it was the Science building and most of my classes were there.

You read that right. I was a Science major when I started college, Pre-Veterinarian. When I figured out I couldn’t pass Chemistry, I thought That’s probably important so I changed to English Education. I was also a regular attendee to the Music Department since I marched in the band.

Every Tuesday and Thursday I sauntered into Hill Hall and to the lounge to have my pre-Biology class cigarette. For maybe a week, I noticed a cute brunette sitting alone at the small cluster of couches near the entrance to Hill Hall. Her caramel-colored eyes captivated me on my to class. She was always alone. I think there was one day I thought about plopping down on the couch next to her so she wouldn’t be alone. But I didn’t.

One morning, as I was relaxing in the smoking lounge with some friends, she stepped in behind another girl who was a regular. Obviously not a smoker, the brunette stayed by the door, probably planning an early escape. My back was to her, so I had to crane my neck to see her. I muse have looked like an arrogant jerk as I took a puff from my cigarette, rolled my neck back, and said, “Hello.”

She waved, but it was one of those awkward I don’t know you but I’m being polite waves. I continued my madness. “So, why do you always sit out there by yourself?” This time, she stood up straight and peered at me. I knew that look, and I would continue to recognize it for the rest of my life. She put one hand on her hip and smirked.

“Because I like to.” She glanced at her friend, who got the hint and snubbed out her cigarette. The brunette pulled the door open and they both left without a goodbye.

I figured that was it. I would never see her again. But the next day, I saw her walking down the hall in Davis Fine Arts building where the music classes were held. Again, she was waiting for a friend. I happened to know the friend she was with. They stepped into the lounge area at the front of the building. Her expression must have mirrored what I was feeling, surprise mixed with confusion… and a little bit of joy.

I invited her to sit on the couch next to me, and she did.

“I’m sorry about how I behaved yesterday. I’m Jason.”

She smiled. “Jennifer. And it’s okay.”

After just a few minutes of chatting with mutual friends, many of them left for class, including her friend, and we stayed. In a fit of courage, I poked her in the side and she squeaked. It was (and still is) one of the cutest sounds I have ever heard, and I told her that. I played the poke off as an accident and apologized until about thirty seconds later when I did it again.

Unfortunately, I knew the fun had to end soon because of my upcoming class. “Well,” I said, “I guess I should get to class.” She smiled and nodded. “Really, though,” I said,  ”I could afford to miss this class.” Her mood changed when I said this and she stared. “Or… I could just go to class.” She nodded.

“I could take you,” she said. How could I say No? She drove me up campus. When she stopped the car, I sat and looked at her until it felt awkward. I was so worried about saying or doing something stupid. Finally, “Well… thank you.” Was that all? Really? I can do better than that, right? “Um… I really enjoyed spending some time with you. Do you think I could call you?”

She said yes.

I used to believe in coincidences, but now I know that when God intends for a relationship to last forever, he can make incredible things happen. Jennifer didn’t have any classes the day I asked her out. She was only there to work on a project with a friend. Fifteen years later, I see that same lovely brunette every morning. We got married almost three years after that day. Her eyes still captivate me as if I am seeing them for the first time. I quit smoking because she gave me hope that I could. My grades went up because she made me feel smart and capable. And as the years passed, she would show me the best she had to offer and encourage me to give the best I had to offer.

I look forward to so many more years with her.