Category: Sports

I’ve been stewing about this for awhile now, not so much whether to say something but how to say it.  This week Celtic forward Jason Collins announced that he’s gay and in the NBA in an interview with SI.  ESPN NBA analyst Chris Broussard responded with a reasoned, personal opinion on national television.

Gay Marriage EqualityFirst. Jason’s life is Jason’s business, how he wishes to share his life with the rest of the world is his business.  Chris Broussard has a right to his opinion, and he presented that respectfully and rationally.  I have the right to disagree with him, and I have the right to express my opinion.  You have the right to disagree, and you have the right to express your opinion. You will need to find your own place to do that.

For those who so rabidly rant about homosexuality being a sin against God (I’m using the “big G” for your benefit, not mine.) and that gay marriage has no place on earth,  consider this: when you start publicly condemning your church elders for adultery, for the sexual abuse of children, for abortion…until you start coming out on TV and radio, condemning the religious media for the flagrant misconduct of their personal lives…until you do this, you need to sit down and shut up.

Maybe you say to yourself, it’s none of my business what type of relationships my pastor or my deacons have, and it’s none of my business how they conduct their personal lives.

Maybe you believe it’s none of your business how many sexual relationships your choir master has had, or the number of abortions your Sunday School teacher has had. Maybe you go and celebrate the marriage of two people who met and conducted an extra-marital affair that resulted in divorce (and since it’s been known to happen, a child conceived out of wedlock) followed by their marriage. If you find this acceptable, if you believe these things are none of your business, you need to sit down and shut up.

If these things aren’t any of your business, then it is most certainly none of your business what two complete strangers do about celebrating their lives together. It’s none of your business if the make it a matter of public record through a civil union and it is definitely none of your business whether they want to get married in the church.  That’s between them and their church, and their Holy Spirit. Not yours.  You are not their Holy Spirit.

You were not appointed by God to barge into other people’s lives and tell them what they’re doing wrong.  You do not go to the lady at the other table in the restaurant and tell her she needs to quit yelling at her children.  You do not chase down the person who ran that red light, or call the cops when the guy in front of you is clearly drunk and endangering everyone else on the road. Why do you feel anointed to tell complete strangers you don’t approve of who they sleep with?  You can’t even control the sexual activity of your own children.  Complete strangers are None. Of. Your. Business.

If you believe so strongly that they are going to die and go to hell, then you pray to your God that they will live their lives as God would want them to.  Then pray that you will live your life in the way God wants you to.

In the mean time, get your house in order, sit down, and shut up.

I am overwhelmed with gratitude. Over the weekend, I received over $600 in donations for the Tough Mudder’s Fight Against Blindness. I want to share the names of my new friends, who have so generously given.

As time is winding down more and more people are coming forward to support my cause, and I want to thank you all, right now, before I go and bonk my head and forget my own name. As kick off gets closer I am getting increasingly stoked to go play in the mud.  Of course, more and more people are encouraging me to get psychiatric help… but I think it’s too late to sign up for that.

To my friends who have been so generous to me:

  • Rebecca Vanslyke
  • Dusan Lazarov
  • Deirdre Whann
  • Lara Gund
  • Christine McManus
  • Jeremiah Shaw
  • Scott LeBlanc (and the Scabannah band!)
  • Jonathan Roberge


(PS: I know this is short, but it’s definitely sweet for me to say thank you again to everyone supporting me, praying for me, and laughing yourselves silly with me.  It’s almost time to get on the plane.)

Road Trip Tough Mudder Austin, TX  Last Gasp

I’ve met a lot of new people in the past couple of months. (If chatting you up on Facebook is meeting, otherwise it’s the same old crew and no one new.)  It’s also been a long time since I’ve posted about Tough Mudder in Austin.

There really hasn’t been anything to talk about.  Working out is grueling when you have to do it  yourself and you miss dinner, and you have to do 16 loads of laundry that consist of five items. (Dear god, how do socks get that smelly so quickly)

The whole fundraising thing continues to elude me.  I’ve created a site, and I’ve let people know about it.  I’m not one of those people who chase you down and insist you buy my girl scout cookies. I don’t think girl scouts belong in cookies. I think they belong in a white wine sauce over saffron rice.  That’s just me though.  I’m not chasing anyone down to contribute to my charity, either. Here’s a link to my initial blog post.  Do what you want to do.

It’s exactly 2 weeks until the big day.  I believe I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.  This is all about mental tenacity, and I have tenacity in spades.  What I do not have is a buddy to run around in the mud with me.  I have unsuccessfully attempted to lure, shame and bribe some people to join me, none of them are having it.  Most have suggested that I a) up my meds; b) reacquaint myself with a psychiatrist. Whatever. I’ll be the one having fun in the sun.  I even have a personal Facebook photographer. (Oh, you guys have no idea…)

I am having serious fashion stress over this, I must admit.  You see pictures on the Tough Mudder website, of buff young things in stretch pants and tank tops…and that is soooo….not me.  I want to be practical about this, I want to do this..right. I’m thinking boots and utes, and a short sleeve over long sleeve shirt. A bandana to keep the hair in such a state I will not have to shave my head later, and a couple of things stuffed in cargo pockets (that’s why they’re called cargo pockets by the way) for just in case. Goggles for jumping into the water, and a rag for wiping the crap off my face.

The more I think about this, the more amped I get. It can’t get here too soon. And I can’t wait to tell you all about it.