Slow Motion Football in West (by God) Virginia

When I was in college, I participated in Campus Crusade for Christ with a couple hundred other students. We used to do odd and silly things to gather a crowd and then talk to people about Jesus. We would do everything from crazy skits on the Sunnyside bar strip to air bands on the student union plaza. 

Above is a picture of our group playing slow motion football one day in front of Woodburn Hall on the main campus. I’m the guy in the white shirt on the right, across from Steve, one of the leaders of CCC. We decided to growl at each other every down. The well-padded guy in the back is Fred, one of my roommates. We had a glorious time that day, and a few people gave their hearts to Christ. As Henry Blackaby reminds us, “The harvest is not the crowd. The harvest is in the crowd.”

Back in those days, we survived on the music of Amy Grant, Michael W. Smith, Steven Curtis Chapman, Russ Taff, Twila Paris, Michael Card, Rich Mullins, Stryper, Petra, and many others. They were good times, and we had many adventures with our faithful God.

Even if we don’t act as silly and odd as we used to, we still love talking to people about Jesus. Feel free to contact me if you need prayer or would like to chat about the claims of Christ and why he is “out of this world” for everyone still in it.

Throwback Thursday: Those Miserable Training Trips

As members of the WVU swim team, we would sacrifice our Christmas vacation to go on a 2-week training trip someplace on the globe that was warm and sunny. During my years in college, that included St. Croix (U.S. Virgin Islands) and Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

Those trips were like “boot camps for swimmers,” with every day featuring triple sessions. The first session was an early morning swim practice lasting two hours. The second involved weight training, calisthenics, plyometrics, and/or runs on the beach for about 90 minutes. The third was an evening swim practice lasting two more hours. 

On Christmas Day they lightened up on us, mandating just one two-hour practice in the morning; then they gave us the rest of the day off. (Thanks for that.) I remember how dreadful and depressing it was to have to practice on Christmas morning!

Below are some snaps from the Fort Lauderdale Aquatic Center. Once a week all the teams who had gathered to train swarmed the pool for what they called “Fifty 50s.” It was only a 2500m parctice, but the lanes were crowded, and there wasn’t much time between sprints. Finding a place to dive safely was a challenge. The whole thing was exhausting and annoying, even for this sprinter.

Between sessions we hit the beach or went out on the town, and after the 14 days of agony, we enjoyed a trip to Disney World. The rest of the time we ate or slept.

The dreaded Fifty 50s practice session. That’s me under the red arrow looking for a safe place to dive for the next interval.
C’est moi in the lower left getting ready for another workout. I have no idea why I’m smirking.
The International Hall of Fame Aquatic Center in Fort Lauderdale, a place of memories and miseries for NCAA Division-1 athletes.

Throwback Thursday: Is That Really Me? (Part 4)

All are invited to have a chuckle at my expense (for the fourth week in a row). This shot is from my sophomore year at West Virginia University. At a meet in Ohio at the end of the season, I swam 51 yards in a 50-yard race. Actually, I lunged at the wall as we always do to finish off a sprint, and I hyperextended my right arm. The timers had to pull me out of the water because I couldn’t get out myself. It was a little bit of embarrassment on top of a whole lot of pain. 

Fortunately, we were close to the Cleveland Clinic, which had a top-tier sports health center for which they were well known. They casted me up quickly, gave me some good pain meds, and minimized any damage to the ulnar nerve. My arm was numb, and I was out of commission for a few weeks. So much for swimming not being a contact sport.