My Ten Favorite Workout Songs (in no particular order):
1. Rocky Theme by Bill Conti (thats a no brainer:)
2. Sweet Child of Mine by Guns n' Roses
3. Pressing On by Relient K
4. The Sound by Switchfoot
5. Party Rock Anthem by LMFAO
6. Worth the Pain by Disciple
7. Kountry Gentleman by Family Force Five
8. Over the Mountain by Ozzy
9. One More by Superchick
10. We Won't Give Up by The Afters
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Friday, January 20, 2012
A CAN or a WILL?
I have a poster in my classroom that originally had “YOU CAN
CHANGE THE WORLD.” Years ago I carefully crossed out the word “CAN” with whiteout and
replaced it with “WILL”. I hope students understand the power they have to
change the world, for good or bad. I hope that I have some small influence on
this world. How sad it would be to live your life and come to the end of it realizing
you have not made someone smile, or helped your kids find their way in life. I
want to be a ‘WILL” person, not a “CAN” person. What about you?
Thursday, January 12, 2012
A Pair of Blessings
"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning." James 1:17 (NKJV)
Small bundles of frail life...so fragile, innocent, and beautiful. Nearly 20 years ago and just over 17 years ago, my world changed twice. Two life forms became an integral part of my life. I was 24 when Mauri was born and 27 when Caleb was born. Although I felt mature, I was not ready for the changes that would come our way. But oh what blessings they have been. Every diaper (wet or dirty), every spit up and long night of crying. Every worry of fever and hospital waiting room marathon. Every smile and every tear. Every gut-busting laugh and red-faced incidence of anger. Every hope and dream and concern. All worth it.
If I exceed all worldly expectations and become a model citizen, son, or teacher, it still will not compare to the accomplishment of being a father. I have the world's best kids. I know all fathers say that, but of course it is true for mine:-) They are not perfect, as none are, but they are a product of years of nurturing and development. We taught them from a young age to love God and had them at church almost every time it was open. But even religious children make mistakes, and I am sure they will make their fair share.
I remember driving with Mauri a few years ago (OK it was more like 14 years ago;-) in the car on the way home from work. I told her that I loved her and that I simply loved her because she was my daughter. She did not have to earn my love or do anything to make me love her. She only had to "exist". I also told her that there was nothing she could ever do to lose my love. Her little perplexed face caught a glimpse of unconditional love that day.
I also remember telling Caleb the story of me jumping three feet off the ground when he was born. He told that story over and over again, because he knew that I was happy for his arrival....and I still feel the urge to jump every time he stays with me.
When their uncle was married a few year's ago, Mauri danced on top of my feet. I spun her around the dance floor and it was a very special time. Year's later, they still follow in my footsteps. I pray I am teaching them to perserve, be strong, and have the confidence to accomplish the life of their dreams. Although they don't live with me anymore, every day I spend with them is a blessing and a chance to see the legacy I helped create. As they quickly approach adulthood, I pray they will remember how much they were loved...and pass that "spark" along to the next generation.
When you a fill a cup to the rim and keep filling it, where does the excess go? I am not sure, but I know this: my heart overflows with love for my kids. They will always be my legacy and my greatest accomplishment. They were worth it all.....every minute...every second.
"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning." James 1:17 (NKJV)
Small bundles of frail life...so fragile, innocent, and beautiful. Nearly 20 years ago and just over 17 years ago, my world changed twice. Two life forms became an integral part of my life. I was 24 when Mauri was born and 27 when Caleb was born. Although I felt mature, I was not ready for the changes that would come our way. But oh what blessings they have been. Every diaper (wet or dirty), every spit up and long night of crying. Every worry of fever and hospital waiting room marathon. Every smile and every tear. Every gut-busting laugh and red-faced incidence of anger. Every hope and dream and concern. All worth it.
If I exceed all worldly expectations and become a model citizen, son, or teacher, it still will not compare to the accomplishment of being a father. I have the world's best kids. I know all fathers say that, but of course it is true for mine:-) They are not perfect, as none are, but they are a product of years of nurturing and development. We taught them from a young age to love God and had them at church almost every time it was open. But even religious children make mistakes, and I am sure they will make their fair share.
I remember driving with Mauri a few years ago (OK it was more like 14 years ago;-) in the car on the way home from work. I told her that I loved her and that I simply loved her because she was my daughter. She did not have to earn my love or do anything to make me love her. She only had to "exist". I also told her that there was nothing she could ever do to lose my love. Her little perplexed face caught a glimpse of unconditional love that day.
I also remember telling Caleb the story of me jumping three feet off the ground when he was born. He told that story over and over again, because he knew that I was happy for his arrival....and I still feel the urge to jump every time he stays with me.
When their uncle was married a few year's ago, Mauri danced on top of my feet. I spun her around the dance floor and it was a very special time. Year's later, they still follow in my footsteps. I pray I am teaching them to perserve, be strong, and have the confidence to accomplish the life of their dreams. Although they don't live with me anymore, every day I spend with them is a blessing and a chance to see the legacy I helped create. As they quickly approach adulthood, I pray they will remember how much they were loved...and pass that "spark" along to the next generation.
When you a fill a cup to the rim and keep filling it, where does the excess go? I am not sure, but I know this: my heart overflows with love for my kids. They will always be my legacy and my greatest accomplishment. They were worth it all.....every minute...every second.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Going the Distance: Training (As a Walker) for a Half Marathon
"The journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step." Lao Tzu
First, I want to make something clear. I am not a runner. I am a walker. I don't apologize for that and I don't have any disregard for runners. I think they are amazing athletes. They just don't look like they are having much fun. They also must have much better feet and knees than I do. Although I am only 44, I have the feet of a 64 year-old (whatever that means). They are long, wide, lumpy, and usually in some state of pain. However, I am inspired by my late grandfather, John Cowan, who walked 2 or 3 miles a day until he was over 70 years old.
Another reason I am a walker is because it is the only sport in which I do well (if you can call it a sport). I am a mediocre basketball player and I also stink at baseball. I am a decent pool and ping-pong player, but not good enough to "shark" anyone or compete against the Koreans. Therefore, I walk. I like to walk in 5K and 10K races because I am usually one of the only few walkers. In my first 5K, I finished fourth place behind a Canadian power walker, a 65-year old former runner, and an enthusiastic 10 year old. But I wasn't bitter. In my first 10K I finished both first place and last place in the 10K walking division (yes, you guessed it ..there wasn't one:-) Motorcycle cops were looking at me funny and I was stirred along by someone in a truck picking up the orange cones as I passed. That is usually what happens to the person in last place.
So this year I decided to go crazy and be a walker in the Run the Line Half Marathon, which is 13 LONG miles. I will undoubtedly be one of the only walkers and chances are I will finish very close to last place. But that's OK. I will walk with my phone loaded full of quick "walking songs" and move at a comfortable and steady pace. I will most likely cross the finish line in just under 3 1/2 hours. It is on February 19, so I may also be stirred along by a cold winter wind.
Since I decided in December 2011 to register, I had just under 10 weeks to prepare. I am in pretty good shape, so I had to decide my priorities. In a nutshell, here is my workout plan: walk a lot. That sounds simple, but there is a lot to think about when walking long distances. One of those is stamina. Although I thought my calves and shins were in good shape, I soon found out they are not. So I am walking a few times a week, running bleachers, working legs twice a week at the gym, riding the seated recumbant bike, and doing hundreds of shins lifts and calf raises. I have cut back on lifting weights to one day a week and cut down on the amount of weight. Finally, I hope to lose 6 or 7 pounds by the day of the race to be a little lighter on my feet. A week or so before the race, I will do an 8-mile walk to set my timing and test my stamina. The last four days I will simply relax my muscles, stretch, and drink lots of water.
If you want a copy of my workout plan, send me your email address to mcdsparks@gmail.com and I will be glad to send you a copy in Excel. Until then, I'll be walking...and walking...and walking......
"The journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step." Lao Tzu
First, I want to make something clear. I am not a runner. I am a walker. I don't apologize for that and I don't have any disregard for runners. I think they are amazing athletes. They just don't look like they are having much fun. They also must have much better feet and knees than I do. Although I am only 44, I have the feet of a 64 year-old (whatever that means). They are long, wide, lumpy, and usually in some state of pain. However, I am inspired by my late grandfather, John Cowan, who walked 2 or 3 miles a day until he was over 70 years old.
Another reason I am a walker is because it is the only sport in which I do well (if you can call it a sport). I am a mediocre basketball player and I also stink at baseball. I am a decent pool and ping-pong player, but not good enough to "shark" anyone or compete against the Koreans. Therefore, I walk. I like to walk in 5K and 10K races because I am usually one of the only few walkers. In my first 5K, I finished fourth place behind a Canadian power walker, a 65-year old former runner, and an enthusiastic 10 year old. But I wasn't bitter. In my first 10K I finished both first place and last place in the 10K walking division (yes, you guessed it ..there wasn't one:-) Motorcycle cops were looking at me funny and I was stirred along by someone in a truck picking up the orange cones as I passed. That is usually what happens to the person in last place.
So this year I decided to go crazy and be a walker in the Run the Line Half Marathon, which is 13 LONG miles. I will undoubtedly be one of the only walkers and chances are I will finish very close to last place. But that's OK. I will walk with my phone loaded full of quick "walking songs" and move at a comfortable and steady pace. I will most likely cross the finish line in just under 3 1/2 hours. It is on February 19, so I may also be stirred along by a cold winter wind.
Since I decided in December 2011 to register, I had just under 10 weeks to prepare. I am in pretty good shape, so I had to decide my priorities. In a nutshell, here is my workout plan: walk a lot. That sounds simple, but there is a lot to think about when walking long distances. One of those is stamina. Although I thought my calves and shins were in good shape, I soon found out they are not. So I am walking a few times a week, running bleachers, working legs twice a week at the gym, riding the seated recumbant bike, and doing hundreds of shins lifts and calf raises. I have cut back on lifting weights to one day a week and cut down on the amount of weight. Finally, I hope to lose 6 or 7 pounds by the day of the race to be a little lighter on my feet. A week or so before the race, I will do an 8-mile walk to set my timing and test my stamina. The last four days I will simply relax my muscles, stretch, and drink lots of water.
If you want a copy of my workout plan, send me your email address to mcdsparks@gmail.com and I will be glad to send you a copy in Excel. Until then, I'll be walking...and walking...and walking......
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Making a Joyful Noise?
“A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.” Maya Angelou
In 1990, I sang my first solo in church. I believe it was "Friend of a Wounded Heart" by Wayne Watson. My knees were knocking and my voice was shaking. But I made it through. Since then I have led music part-time and sang many solos and never turned down an opportunity to sing when asked. I have sung in choirs and musicals and quartets and in praise bands. However, the greatest joy I have is when I am driving back from work and I click off the radio. I lift my voice and sing a hymn or two...sometimes "Amazing Grace" or "It is Well With My Soul". Sometimes I sing a worship chorus or just whatever comes to mind. It is so much better than singing along to the radio. There are no rules. There are no critics and no audience listening. It is only me and God and a joyful noise. It is liberating and exhilarating and it takes all my cares and concerns and throws them out the window for a few minutes. What a gift it is to sing..and in this case you don't even have to be able to sing...because NO ONE cares and no one is listening. So give it a shot.
There is nothing else that I would rather do. If I had to have all my talents taken away and left with one, it would be my voice...no doubt. In 2007, I penned a poem about music and singing. I have to warn you ahead of time. My poems don't usually rhyme and this one is simply a series of questions with a defining statement at the end. So make a joyful noise..or a "holy racket"!!!
The Story of a Song
What moves in us to open our mouths
and produce a rhythm of poetry and prose?
Is it not enough to write it down or speak it?
When did the first human discover the releasing
power of their voice in controlled cries of inner passion?
Is it a part of the fabric of human expression?
Why do the groanings of meager mortals change the spirit
and lift the emotions of a hardened heart?
Is it necessary to bridge the gap between heaven and earth?
How can the flowing prayers of mankind reach a heaven so high
and bring a smile to omnipotence?
It is a story that can only be told in the angelic language of song.
“A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.” Maya Angelou
In 1990, I sang my first solo in church. I believe it was "Friend of a Wounded Heart" by Wayne Watson. My knees were knocking and my voice was shaking. But I made it through. Since then I have led music part-time and sang many solos and never turned down an opportunity to sing when asked. I have sung in choirs and musicals and quartets and in praise bands. However, the greatest joy I have is when I am driving back from work and I click off the radio. I lift my voice and sing a hymn or two...sometimes "Amazing Grace" or "It is Well With My Soul". Sometimes I sing a worship chorus or just whatever comes to mind. It is so much better than singing along to the radio. There are no rules. There are no critics and no audience listening. It is only me and God and a joyful noise. It is liberating and exhilarating and it takes all my cares and concerns and throws them out the window for a few minutes. What a gift it is to sing..and in this case you don't even have to be able to sing...because NO ONE cares and no one is listening. So give it a shot.
There is nothing else that I would rather do. If I had to have all my talents taken away and left with one, it would be my voice...no doubt. In 2007, I penned a poem about music and singing. I have to warn you ahead of time. My poems don't usually rhyme and this one is simply a series of questions with a defining statement at the end. So make a joyful noise..or a "holy racket"!!!
The Story of a Song
What moves in us to open our mouths
and produce a rhythm of poetry and prose?
Is it not enough to write it down or speak it?
When did the first human discover the releasing
power of their voice in controlled cries of inner passion?
Is it a part of the fabric of human expression?
Why do the groanings of meager mortals change the spirit
and lift the emotions of a hardened heart?
Is it necessary to bridge the gap between heaven and earth?
How can the flowing prayers of mankind reach a heaven so high
and bring a smile to omnipotence?
It is a story that can only be told in the angelic language of song.
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