Eight Days Out

Eight days.

The weather forecast changes a couple of times per day, but I have been praying, imploring everyone I know to pray, and I'm looking at that sucker three times an hour. A few minutes ago the Weather Channel app on my phone said 20% chance of rain Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Yesterday it showed a 60% chance of thundershowers on June 4th. I like 20% better.

True story. In 1998, to reward myself for graduating from seminary, I took a trip up the Tallahatchie River in my homemade wooden boat. The weather forecast was a 20% chance of rain that night. I made my way upstream to Arkabutla Reservoir, as far north as one can navigate in that river system. It rained that night. Not one, not two, not four, not six, not eight, but it rained ten inches. Twenty percent chance of rain and it rained ten inches. I was out there. Be that as it may, 20% is still a pretty good forecast.

I haven't checked with Justin in a couple of weeks, but last time I asked, the lake was still muddy. I suppose that is more of an aesthetic issue than anything else. The lake has always been so pristine and clear that being in it was a pleasure. But there is no reason I can't swim muddy water. I swim in catfish ponds.

The crew is set, the boat is full, and the nerves started a week ago for me. Already I wonder if I am taking it too easy. I swam nine miles just this past Tuesday, but I missed Wednesday, swam only a little Thursday, and will likely not be in the water again until Monday.

I have sent out some emails trying to gain publicity for the swim. I reached out to SuperTalk Radio. If I could get some coverage from them, I feel like the fundraising would go through the roof. I called them last year, emailed them this year, and have heard nothing in return. The Greenwood Commonwealth say they want to cover it, but I am pretty much outdone with them. Don't get me started. The DFM even has someone working on publicity, but I can see no results. When Samuel Dickinson was with the DFM, he worked tirelessly to promote the event with little success that I could see. He sent out dozens of press releases. The Commonwealth even skipped a write up that year. Dude, I'm trying to raise money for a charity.

Oh well, all I can do is all I can do. Tom Flanagan told me that a few years back when I was fretting about the swim. I'm always fretting about the swim. I think about that simple truth from time to time. Thanks, Tom.