Youth Find Solutions to Global Poverty

A recent blog from Devex communications associate Elisabeth d'Auchamp shares a great idea being implemented by the European Commission:

“International development may not be the first thing on the mind of a 13-year-old. Talk of frameworks, donor priorities, annual reports and endless acronyms will, in most cases, be less attention-grabbing than, well, everything else in the life of a teenager.

But while the future of the globe might currently be handled by adults, youth has an equal if not a bigger stake in creating a sustainable world.

As such, aid groups are now ramping up efforts to engage young people in global development. Among them: the European Commission.

“How would you fight poverty?” the commission is asking young people in a video contest recently launched on Facebook. The competition is open to everyone aged 13-24 regardless of nationality, and the only condition is to create a video of no more than 120 seconds which answers the question, and upload it on YouTube by Nov. 1.

For the winners, the prize involves having their solution to global poverty presented to thought leaders and decision makers in Europe. They will be flown to Brussels to attend the 2013 European Development Days in November, where their short videos will be screened.

So what do you want changed to create a poverty-free world? Take out your smartphone, digital camera, tablet or any other video-taking device, and have your say — or invite a teenager or twenty-something near you to do so. Join Young Voices Against Poverty.”

Should I Wear A Body Vest When Running?

My heart goes out to the family of Christopher Lane, the 22 year old Australian who was gunned down by three teenagers in Oklahoma. Chris was out on a run. Probably in his zone. Enjoying a breeze on his face, feeling the exhilaration of pulsing blood pumping from head to toe, daydreaming of races to come, or life after college or perhaps a romantic interlude. Then BAM! He felt a searing tear into his back. His system went into shock within seconds. His legs continued to propel him forward. His brain desperately tried to identify where and what was the painful interruption to his run. … And it was over. A young life full of promise and potential. Gone.

Why? Because three kids were bored. And they had a gun. Oh … and they decided to kill somebody.

This wasn’t the first shooting of someone out for a run. It won’t be the last. In May 2012 Harry Stone, a Raytown, Mo. runner was shot and killed while jogging. Harry was my age.  In April 2011, Luis Fernando Duran, 33, was shot while jogging in his Amarillo, TX neighborhood.

So what do we make of this?

Last week, as I was running down my street, a neighbor was backing out of her driveway. She noticed me moving behind her. (I was on the other side of the street and out of her way before her back tires hit the street). BUT, she took this opportunity to flip me the bird and yell at me for being in her way.  

In the last 20 years I have been traveling on foot through neighborhoods, country lanes, city alleys and boulevards, parks, university campuses and distant villages. I have had

• Soft drink cups pitched my way,
• Gum spit at me,
• Trash thrown at me,
• Curses yelled and middle fingers flipped my direction,
• And two cars and one semi-trailer truck intentionally run me off the road.

On all of these occasions, I have been on a sidewalk or running on the shoulder. On each of these occasions, the persons offended by my running were in moving vehicles. I obviously was no threat to them. I interpret the above encounters to be senseless acts of stupidity.

It seems that in the last few years, such acts have been increasing. Are we becoming so intolerant of others? Must we keep moving to the extremes so that gunning someone down in the street is an option to boredom?

So, should I invest in a police vest? Must runners now not only dodge pop cups and gum, but also bullets? Should we fear anyone headed our way? Wear rearview mirrors as a part of headgear? Stick to an indoor running track? Quit? … in fear of a close encounter? From kids who are bored?

No. I will keep running. On the sidewalks. In the streets. In the parks. Through the neighborhoods. And I will not be buying a vest anytime soon. 

Oops! Life Happens ...

Running with the grandkids!

While training for a Disney World marathon scheduled for last November (2012) I came face to hip with the terror every runner fears. In August 2012, I was running on the sidewalk along a local street in front of our hospital. A woman using a cell phone while driving clipped me as I scurried out of her path. She was entering the street from the hospital driveway. Although the light was red, she did not slow down. She did not look to see what was in front of her as she turned right onto the street. She did not stop as I slapped her fender and twirled to avoid going down. I do not think she saw me or knew that she had hit me with her red pickup truck. My right leg was sore for a couple of days, but there were only slight bruises and it did not occur to me that it might further contribute to the back pain that is a part of getting older. I did not file a complaint with the police department (what was there to report?)

The next weekend, I was experiencing increasing pain and could not effectively drive my car. I checked in to the Center Point Medical Center seeking relief. They prescribed Oxicodone and allowed me to return home. Now, I have suffered from multi-level disk degeneration of the spine for over a decade (arthropathy, hypertrophy, disc bulges, protrusions, disc hernial extrusions; bilateral sacroiliac, arthrosis, spondylosis—stuff of life!)

The next few months I lived through my own private hell. And, yes, I could not run! Yikes!

During the weeks following my brush with the pick-up, my pain grew increasingly worse. I could not sleep at night without constantly tossing and turning, trying to relieve the pain. I could not drive the car. I could not sit. I could not stand without constantly moving. I could not work, because the pain kept intruding on my ability to sit down, to concentrate, and to carry on a decent conversation with folks. I could not play with my grandchildren without crying through the pain. I did not want to be with other people. I was embarrassed. I was anxious. I was ashamed. I felt useless.

I was asked many times what my “pain level” was. After several attempts to share happy or sad faces, place it on a continuum of 1-10, describe if it is “better or worse” than the last time, etc. I finally decided to share this way:

Regarding life as I have grown accustomed to living is one in which it feels as if someone has taken a baseball bat and hit me in my lower back. That pain has been constant for the last ten years. It does not go away, but some days it is more pronounced than others. I have managed this with OTC Tylenol. (And during this time, I completed three marathons, twelve half marathons and a number of 5K-10Ks.) Although I constantly hurt, I always felt real pain was reserved for those in trauma.

Last summer, the pain increased in a way that felt like someone drove a screwdriver into my right hip and on the second whack, missed and hit my lower back again, increasing the pain in both areas. Then, it felt like my legs had been “re-wired” with exposed electrical wire and someone hooked me up to a generator, so now in addition to the back and hip pain I experience a pulsating electrical current hitting the nerves, hipbone, kneecap, shin, thigh, and ankle.

After seeing an orthopedic specialist, receiving three epidurals, engaging in physical therapy and establishing a pain management program, I faced the new year wondering if I would ever be useful to anyone. I did not think I would run again. Ever.

I share this humble story not for anyone’s sympathy. Rather, I want to encourage others facing the debilitating, disabling despair, depression, pain and anxiety that life sometimes brings.

My reason to get off the floor and move! Youngest grandson Emerson

I have a new appreciation for anyone who is in physical, mental, emotional pain. We each have our own levels of tolerance. We often do not know what a person is experiencing just to get through the day when, by our judgment, they are too slow in the grocery line, hesitate at the stop light, stand in the back of the room, fidget in their pew, or take too much time counting change.

I do not compare my pain or situation with others. The positive attitude and herculean efforts of one person to overcome life’s challenges takes many forms and may or may not have the same results of another’s efforts. But the will to live is powerful. The desire to embrace life, with whatever obstacles or challenges encountered does affect how one gets through the day.

Prayer is relative. Don’t equate your idea of a favorable outcome with the reality of dealing with life. Prayer does help us cope. Prayers for another are appreciated.

Gratitude always helps in keeping us grounded. I am richly blessed. There is so much real pain in the world … disabling physical conditions that are so challenging; poverty, disease and hunger that takes away life so quickly; violence that erupts (or is constant) into the reality of men and women and children who deserve better; mental demons that kill potential and destroys persons from all cultures. My heart goes out to such persons the world over. I do not deserve the wealth and privilege and comfort that is my life. I am grateful.

Life truly is what we make of it. My story is that I got up from laying on the floor one cold day in January and limped down the street. I cried. I could not make it one block away to the cross street. The next day I did it again. And again. And again.

I am slow. But, I do run (or trot, or jog, or lope—I certainly don’t want to insult real runners). I am back on the trails and streets that I love to wander as I wonder about life. I completed a half marathon in April 2013 and am training for the Kansas City Marathon in October. (Although I had so many interruptions in my training this summer, I may have to settle for the half marathon.)

My new running buddies Hydi, Meta, Nappie, and Gabbie (all meds) allow me to enjoy long runs and “push it” on hill runs. (Does this mean I am “doping” when I enter a race? Would my end of the pack, but finishing ahead of the street sweepers results disqualify me?)

I choose to run. I choose to run without medication. When the pain is just too much, I choose to run with medication. My life is better because I run. Life happens.