Introduction to the Markets

With eyelids still heavy from a long night of tossing, I made continued effort toward finding the edge of the bed where an infernal alarm lay growing more bold in its tones with every passing second. By the time I found relief from its rhythmic, belching, rackets, my mind was already roving through the morning tasks ahead. Perhaps, today would be the day.

Sizzling water made its way through the coffee grounds and filter into an old, trusted, mug. My mind drifted here and there as I awaited the frothing sounds that signaled coffee-making completion. It’s funny. I had no desire for coffee until a trip to Tennessee, earlier this year. It has become a near daily ritual, at this point. I believe it’s the aroma that signals morning as much as any level of caffeinated jolt it may provide.

Coffee in hand, I made my way upstairs to prepare for another morning’s work. Fridays are notoriously slow in this business. Summer months tend to be as well. As you can imagine, a Friday at the end of summer does not usually elicit tremendous enthusiasm, but I like to leave room to be surprised.

I have spent most of this year studying a business within the finance industry with untold potential. But with such potential, it can be fraught with risk as well. I have found I enjoy the challenge of it all, but this summer has been frustrating. I have attempted to capitalize on the markets downtime by studying as much as possible each day. There have been days where I have worked and studied 14 hours straight, and others where I have only been able to study for 2 or 3.

The last time I wrote, I spoke at length about the importance of goals and giving yourself over to it and its process. I have been living this out this year, and though it has been difficult and required sacrifice in most every arena, I have enjoyed it. I know I will find success. It is only a matter of time.



Interrogated by the Terminator


In a distant drone, my ears began to open from a deep sleep. I forced my eyes open and quickly got to my feet. In a half daze, I crossed the dark room and blindly felt for my phone that blared it’s alarm, “Girl Named Tennessee.” The music stopped, and I looked at the time — 5:45am. With a sigh, I rubbed my eyes and muttered, “Here we go..”

We were heading back to Munich for the day to get the truck inspected. The place opened at ten, so we had to be on the road by six. We got down to the truck and as Billy played with the GPS, I fumbled with the heater. I can’t figure the thing out when I can see, so in the dark, it’s mostly a hopeless cause. I finally got some amount of heat out of the dashboard, and I settled back into my seat for the long haul back up through Bavaria.

We had went through one stau after another all the way through Salzburg when we first came to Austria, and we had thought it was because of road construction, so Billy decided to go another way in hopes that we’d make better time. We settled on a route through Wels, Austria. That was a bad idea.

We had been on the road for some time, and the heater was just beginning to really get the truck to a comfortable temperature. The dawn was gently breaking over the horizon. Mountains loomed on all sides, but they were mostly out of sight because of a heavy fog that danced all about the road.

We were hoping to find the autobahn any minute. We had been driving small roads the entire time and were not making the greatest time. We had reached a small town that’s name eludes me as the TomTom called out in his predictable British jive, “Left on the roundabout. Second exit.” We had every intention of obeying Tom’s command, but we were rudely stopped by a man with a hat that read “Polizei” and armed with an orange baton that beat against the side of the truck in quick bursts of triplets.

Billy seemed a bit befuddled by the cop’s belligerence. He turned to me and asked, “What’s he want?” I thought that was a strange question. It seemed a bit obvious as the man continued to signal aggressively for us to pull over. I could tell this didn’t look good, and Billy looked rattled. I was too tired and cold to be overly concerned, so I just sat there waiting as the man approached Billy’s window.

Billy cranked his window down, and I watched as the cold morning air swallowed the warm air I so patiently had cultivated in the last hour and a half. The morning air had a nasty bite. Texans are not made for such temperatures. I began to shake in my coat as I listened to the following conversation unfold.

He stood in a defiant manner just outside the window. He stood eye-to-eye with Billy. No words were exchanged as he emitted what can only be described as a death stare. Billy appeared to be searching for words, but none came. Finally, Billy asked, “What’s the problem?” The man in a deep, menacing, tone sounded his demand, “Passports.”

My heart sank. I knew this was bad. Billy quickly began to sound desperate and quite exasperated as he began to explain, “Sir, we don’t have our passports with us. We left them back at the hotel.” The man did not blink. He did not waver. He only seemed to stare deeper with a hate that raged black. He sounded his demand once more, “Passports.” Billy now sounded slightly irritated — never a good thing when dealing with the law. He replied, “They are back at the hotel.”

The man looked back towards the police car. His eyes met with the other officer. He then looked back at Billy. Billy began to squirm and quickly added, “But we have our drivers license from Texas.” Billy quickly grabbed both of our licenses and held them out the window for the man to examine. He took them and gave them the once over. He seemed irritated and replied, “I’ll be back.” It was like a scene from “The Terminator.” Then he walked back towards his parked car.

Billy turned to me looking a bit pale and said, “I suggest you start praying because this could be real bad.” I thought that sure was a fine howdy-do. I can think of better ways to start the day. I muttered a plea that said it all, “God, please, help us.”

The disgruntled official slowly made his way back to Billy’s window and said, “These are no good. I need passports.” Billy for the third time pleaded, “I understand, but they are back at the hotel.” The man asked, “Where is hotel?” Billy racked his brain for the name of the town and finally sounded out, “Gmunder.” The man looked like he was trying to decipher the strange-sounding word and finally asked, “Gmunden?” Billy quickly added, “Yeah, that’s it.”

The man paused for a moment and then with his baton reached inside the truck and pulled on Billy’s unfastened seat belt. Billy seemed confused. The man demanded with menacing eyes, “Why this undone?” Billy tried to explain it away that he had unfastened it after we had stopped. The man then coolly said, “Registration papers.” Billy asked me to pull it out of the glove compartment. I searched inside, but it was not in there. I gave Billy the bad news, and then he remembered the registration papers had been taken out when the truck had been in the shop last week.

As Billy  attempted to explain yet again. The man interrupted, “No registration papers?” Billy quickly tried to soften it by saying, “We have the papers. They’re just not with us. They’re back at the hotel.” The man then asked, “What are you doing here?” Billy quickly replied, “We’re heading to Munich for the day to see some friends.” The man said nothing. He only glared at Billy. After a long pause, he boomed a word that I cannot repeat, but it was obvious he did not believe us.

He passed a look that spelled hate and walked back to his car and returned after a few moments with a small paper. He handed it to Billy and in a different tone reminiscent of a predator that has grown tired of playing with his prey said, “Keep your passports with you all the time because all else is worthless.” He reached in the car and grabbed Billy’s seat belt again and said, “Here is ticket for no belt. Pay thirty-five euros, and you can go.” Billy looked confused but rummaged through his wallet and excavated thirty-five euros and handed it to the man. The man quickly made sure the full amount was there, and then he looked back at Billy and said, “Get out of here.”

Billy quickly turned the engine over and put it in gear. We were out of there as quick as possible. As Billy began to drive away and roll his window back up, he let out a long sigh. He looked over at me and said, “That was a close one right there. He could’ve kept us there all day if he wanted.” I nodded. He continued, “I don’t know if you caught that or not, but that boy just made himself thirty-five euros.”

On we went towards Munich. The rest is far-less interesting. We arrived a few minutes late due to the delay with the polizei. It ended up a wasted trip because it turns out they wouldn’t let us get the truck inspected without the registration papers. Oh well, live and learn, I suppose.

There’s the story of my first encounter with the German polizei. They’re a pretty ruthless bunch. However, I can’t blame the guy. I kept thinking I sure wish Billy was more organized. All I can say is from now on, I’m keeping my passport with me. I’d really prefer to not go through another interrogation. It was like watching excerpts from a World War II movie. Honestly, our prayers are the only thing that got us through.

“I will praise you, Lord, among the nations; I will sing of you among the peoples. For great is your love, higher than the heavens; your faithfulness reaches to the skies. Be exalted, O God, above the heavens; let your glory be over all the earth.” Psalm 108:3-5



Goals – A work in progress

I routinely find myself encouraging the people I train both in fitness and nutrition the importance of creating goals. There are countless books, articles, podcasts and other mediums on the power of setting goals. I often relay this information without hesitation, but as of late, I have begun to feel slightly hypocritical in my advice-giving. To have a season where you do not have a goal you are working toward is less than ideal. However, the true danger lies in allowing that solitary season to become routine and expand into months and even years. This is a familiar trap for many. Recently, I have felt myself in that very trap.

Goals are funny things. We can easily rattle off a few, without any true inclination toward pursuing them. It is normally paired with thoughts such as, “It would be nice if…” These are not goals. I would more classify them as vain ambitions. These grandiose ideas make us feel somewhat better – as if they are some momentary escape from the water-treading we have been doing. But they are nevertheless meaningless until we are ready to pursue them regardless of cost and sacrifice.

I just returned home from the Dominican Republic a couple of days a go. While there, I had quite a bit of time to reflect – where I am, where I am going, what I want, and so on. Reflection can be a good thing. Although, I often do better while focusing on minimal reflection. I have a tendency to over analyze most things. This causes great passion in the beginning pursuit of something until a few obstacles arise. These obstacles begin to feel more like warning signals rather than obstacles to overcome, so I find myself wavering on whether I made the correct decision in starting the journey. This sounds ridiculous, but many do the same thing without realizing their pattern until a lifetime of unfinished journeys has led them to a place they never wanted to be.

I love to read history, especially biographies. All of my favorite men and women in history were relentless with their goals. What impresses me most, I think, is how many never had moments where they sat wondering what they wanted or ought to do. They simply gave themselves over to a goal – any goal, often from a young age, and they tirelessly pursued it until completion. They never wondered whether they had it in them to complete it. It seems many of them were wildly insufficient when they began the journey, but through the process, they became the person necessary to complete it.

The power in a goal is not the goal or the completion of it. The power lies in the pursuit. This has led me to believe the goal itself almost does not matter. It is whether or not you are willing to give all you have over to its pursuit. Will you sacrifice what is needed? Do you simply dream of doing more – of being more than you presently are? Or have you truly committed? How much time we waste in trying to find the perfect plan or the perfect goal. Life has a fluidity that is hard to understand. When you truly live, life finds a way of unfolding before you. Life favors the bold and relentless. I believe God designed it that way.

In my circles, there is never a shortage of talk or ideas. There is rarely a shortage of prayer. I can speak only for myself, but I find the paucity in my life lies in the committing to a solitary idea. This is not something that improves over time on its own. It is a facet of self-discipline that must be addressed. And moreover, I believe each person must have a grave realization that life is not about pursuing or preserving comfort. This alone relegates ninety percent of the distractions around us. (I suppose this would be a good plug for Teddy Roosevelt’s book, “The Strenuous Life.” He may very well be my favorite person in history.)

This is where I am. Transition lies in heaps all about me and uncertainty with every step. However, the beginning of faith and hope is to trust God’s ability to pick me up when I fall and to clean up the messes I make along the way. My aim is to live a life in which I can readily say, “This one thing I do.” This naturally demands a great ability to say no to most other things. We live in a world where everything and everyone will place a steady stream of constraints upon you if allowed. But boundaries are easily set when you have committed to a thing.

I hope my meanderings may help someone in a similar place. To that, I leave you with this. The end game is not the completion of a goal, but whatever you do – see it through. Not for the sake of the goal but for the sake of your character and the person you hope to become.