No Coincidences

Author: Brayden Quackenbush

  • Misogi

    Misogi

    On 11/2/24 I learned an Olympic Triathlon includes a .93 mile swim, 25 mile cycle, and 6.2 mile run. I also learned an Ironman includes a swim of 2.4 miles, cycle of 112 miles, and run of 26 miles.

    I learned this at the tail end of completing roughly 2x an Olympic Triathlon or roughly ½ an Ironman. At no point, until I was near the end of this challenge, did I know that’s what I was doing.

    Here is the story.

    The word Misogi is a Japanese word that means “water cleansing.”

    Misogi has come to represent a challenge that pushes your limits to help expand what you believe is possible.

    There are two requirements to a Misogi challenge:

    1 – There must be no risk of death.

    2 – There must be at least a 50% chance of failure.

    I heard about the concept of a Misogi a few months ago. I immediately started putting together my list of possible Misogi challenges.

    Another important aspect of a Misogi challenge is that it should be unexpected. The idea is to be physically and mentally prepared at all times.

    I discussed it with my brother when I first heard of the idea. He had heard of it already. I sent him my list of ideas.

    Flash forward a few months and Misogi couldn’t be farther from my mind.

    Beth had an unknown appointment on our family calendar labeled “Beth Plans.” Mysterious. I assumed it was a shopping appointment or something. My second hint was my work’s on-call schedule was being put together and I asked Beth about “Beth Plans.” She let me know I would not have cell service all of Saturday.

    I didn’t have much time to think about this though, because life is busy.

    Friday night I went to sleep not knowing what was happening the next day.

    I woke up to a message from Beth:

    “Pack a bag with:

    • Swimsuit and goggles and towel
    • Running clothes and good socks (including your basketball tights)

    Wear:

    • Basketball tights and basketball shorts
    • Athletic top
    • Athletic jacket
    • Your best shoes for running
    • Good socks”

    30 minutes later I opened our front door to my mom and dad, brothers Garrick and Easton, and soon-to-be sister-in-law Arielle.

    It wasn’t until then that I noticed the last line of Beth’s text:

    “Stretch like you would for basketball.”

    I got a little stretching in before I was off to I didn’t know what. I received another hint from the bikes on the back of my parents’ car. It was during the drive that I learned we were doing a Misogi.

    We drove to P+R Power Road. My dad, Garrick, Easton, and I mounted our bikes and started for the mountains to Butcher Jones Recreation Area:

    We biked 16.55 miles in 1 hour and 23 minutes.

    There were stretches during this 16.55 miles that I thought, “This is it? Surely Garrick planned something harder than this.” Careful what you wish for.

    I spent much of that 16 miles breathing, meditating, and praying in gratitude for a family that not only let me do crazy things but planned crazy things for me to do.

    We got to Saguaro Lake. I’d never been there. It was a beautiful lake.

    I was told we were swimming. Before I changed into my swimsuit I emphasized that I wasn’t sure I could swim at all. But I’d try. Our trail car had gone ahead and we took a kayak into the water to make sure we didn’t drown.

    As we stepped into the water, it was freezing. Remember this was November. Garrick said it was the perfect temperature for a long-distance swim. He almost convinced me. We started swimming. We swam along the side of the lake. We swam out to the edge and Garrick said we could swim back. I realized we didn’t have a destination, just a distance to accomplish.

    We swam back toward shore and started swimming back out again. On the way back out to the edge I asked Garrick, for the first time in any of this, how long we were swimming. He said 1 mile. Oh, great, we could do that no problem. How far had we swum? I asked. I was thinking we’d already done half a mile and I could easily do what I’d done so far one more time. 0.2 miles was the response. What?!

    We started swimming out around the edge. We lost Easton. He stopped along the side of the hill next to the water. The rest of us went out into open water. Multiple parts of my body were starting to cramp. We got to a rocky shore around the edge and all of us started to shiver uncontrollably.

    In hopes that movement would warm us up, we dove out into the water again. I realized movement was not helping. I was completely numb. We’d done roughly half a mile and I was shaking uncontrollably. Garrick finally admitted it was cold. We had swam .5 miles in 40 minutes.

    We got back to the rocky side shore, apparently less than .2 miles from starting shore, and were ferried back one at a time as my groin/hamstring/leg/neck cramped repeatedly. My dad’s feet were white/blue. Garrick was practically convulsing with shivers.

    When I got taken to shore I went and sat on a park bench in the sun to warm up. I found myself staring in fascination at ants. I think my brain was low on oxygen or something. I felt funny.

    We got back to the car and I was told the joke made earlier – that we were biking back – wasn’t a joke. I said I seriously didn’t think I could do that. Most of the final mile or two of that 16.55 miles to Saguaro Lake was straight downhill. So, being the brilliant person I am, I realized the first two miles out of here would be straight uphill.

    For the second time that day, after saying I didn’t think it was possible, I mounted my bike and tried.

    Easton decided not to join us on this stretch of the bike ride.

    Those couple miles uphill were moderately strenuous. But I realized it was a relatively moderate incline. From there it was an easy 2-mile coast to our next checkpoint.

    I was feeling great. Bring on the world.

    We did a quick water/nutrient refill. Easton, having bailed on the last bike ride, was having major regrets so he joined back up for the next stretch.

    We discussed our options. The plan was to take a more scenic route back to our original starting point at P+R Power Road instead of going the way we had come. Bring it on. Little did we know.

    Usery Mountain Pass. It must have been an 80-degree incline

    For those who don’t understand math, that’s a joke. Point is it was steep. It was straight uphill. We didn’t know that until we kept going… and going… and going… and going… all uphill.

    At one point we finally took a break. Legs were about to give out. Chests were rupturing with exploding lungs. Hearts were failing.

    “It’s gotta be downhill at the end of this last incline, at that curve up ahead.”

    Yeah… sure, Garrick. Just like that water at Saguaro Lake wasn’t cold. In our hearts, we knew better. We’d all thought the last dozen curves up ahead would lead to our desired downhill. They all continued to go upward.

    That was 4 miles straight uphill. We took two breaks. It was brutal.

    It was so strange coming out of the trail back into society. It’s not like we travelled out into a wilderness but… I guess we kind of did. We went from this mountain pass to starting to see a smattering of houses, to suddenly going over a highway overpass. I wondered what we looked like to civilized folk. Disheveled, shirtless, covered in lake and other gunk. We were suddenly thrust back onto paved roads with real bike paths.

    The good thing about going up is you then get to go down. Though, those four miles were so long and arduous I did start to question the laws of physics. Eventually, we did come to a peak. The way down was much more enjoyable.

    We got back to our car where my mom and Arielle were waiting.

    Remember, I never knew what was coming next. Like biking straight uphill, with the thought of a peak and downward slope to come, I approached every checkpoint wondering if this was the end, or at least close to it.

    I cautiously monitored reactions, trying to get a read on the situation. Garrick was constantly making jokes about what was next. It wasn’t until the very end of the Misogi Challenge that I realized Garrick was never joking. His comments just seemed so ludicrous and impossible that I assumed they were jokes.

    As we sat around the car, me gauging the situation, Garrick said we had 20 miles to go on the bike.

    “Not going to happen.” My reply.

    But, my body hadn’t given up yet. I asked if there were any 4-mile uphill stretches to contend with. I was assured it was level ground to our next stop.

    Here’s the thing, when you haven’t been on a bike for more than a 30-minute stretch in at least 5 years, miles 30-50 are pretty hard, no matter the terrain or steepness.

    My dad decided to take a break. Seemed like his bike was vastly underperforming to the other three so it was a smart decision. Garrick, Easton, and I mounted our bikes and started off.

    We rode 10 miles to a Dunkin Doughnuts. As we approached the Dunkin my hamstrings started to cramp so bad that I had to stretch full length any chance I got to coast on my bike, which wasn’t often. The thing with level terrain is you’re peddling almost nonstop.

    At Dunkin I chugged as much water as I could. I felt like I drank too much water and might throw up. I told everyone I would try the last 10 miles but warned our trail car to be ready to come pick me up. The water chugging apparently saved my cramping for another 10 miles. I only had to stop once and stretch my legs. After that, I was able to make it.

    Proof of Dunkin Stop

    We rode our bikes to a parking lot at a park near Rio Salado Pathway. As we approached the car, I asked Garrick how many miles we had done total on our bikes. 49.25. That’s no good. So we rode around the parking lot 3 times to hit an even 50 miles on the bike.

    Tally so far:

    50 miles on bike.

    ½ mile freezing swim.

    I could barely walk.

    What now?

    Garrick asked me the most continuous miles I had ever run. I said probably 2 miles. Everyone laughed.

    A 13-mile run was planned.

    Again I thought he was joking. How many times during this adventure had I said, “Not going to happen”?

    Yet again, I decided I’d try. This was the point of a Misogi after all.

    My mom and Arielle rode bikes along with us on the trail as we started jogging. “Jogging” may be a generous term. I was putting one foot in front of the other, I’ll say that.

    I did roughly 0.75-1 mile jog, 0.25 mile walk for 11 miles. It was going to be 10 miles but somehow we missed our turn on the way back and ended up going half a mile further than intended. All I can say is my mind wasn’t functioning at full capacity.

    By the end, jogging was nearly impossible for my body. I won’t say impossible. But a lot of things were starting to give out.

    We coordinated dinner and met Beth at a Mexican restaurant. When we arrived Sage was screaming but happy to see me. I almost turned down holding her, afraid I would fall with her in my arms. For the last time that day, I did something I wasn’t sure I could do. I held Sage and stayed standing, one step in front of the other, to go get a table reserved.

    We started our journey at around 9:30am and walked off Rio Salado Trail around 7:30pm.

    What I learned:

    As with any Misogi, I learned the primary lesson: we can do much more than we think we’re capable of. Our bodies are capable of amazing things.

    Another thing I learned was how much a break could do for the body. When we were on that uphill climb on Usery Mountain Pass, I was sure I would need to start walking my bike. My legs felt like they were completely done. I wasn’t sure I could walk my bike, but I “knew” I couldn’t ride it. We took a 2-minute break and I felt like a new man. It encouraged me to know that, no matter how much it seemed like my body was giving out, all it really needed was a short reprieve to be able to pick right back up.

    The same thing happened in those last ten miles of biking. When my hamstrings were both cramping, all I needed was 5 bottles of water and a 5-minute break and my body was able to keep going. When I thought I would die jogging, I would start walking, and I could jog again within a couple minutes.

    The whole day was more a mental battle than a physical battle. If I’d known what was in store, I may have given up much earlier in the day. I always thought, “Maybe this is it,” which kept me putting one foot in front of the other.

    There are already whispers of plans for next year’s Misogi Challenge.

    What should we do next?

  • God will Provide

    God will Provide

    I often make the comment around certain individuals who I know will understand my meaning (like my wife, close friends, people from church), that God will provide/protect/etc.

    An example of this recently was when my tires were extremely worn. Beth took them to get them checked and the mechanic was shocked. He said he was shocked a tire didn’t blow on the drive over. Beth let me know and I responded, “I looked for a gif of “God protects” or God saves” or “God will provide” but they’re all blasphemous. But for real. Love that guy.”

    The blasphemous part is why I’d be careful how and who I’d say this around. I wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m taking this lightly or making a joke of it.

    I live my life with a serious belief that God is watching out for me daily. I firmly believe He kept a tire from blowing up on my car even though it probably should have.

    I know that if bad things happen to me, they’re for my growth and ultimate benefit. I know that when good things happen to me, God is blessing me and watching out for me.

    Now, I know that someone with no faith or someone who doesn’t understand my way of thinking would look at this as a naïve, blissfully ignorant way to live life. I, on the other hand, think living without faith is a sad way to go through life.

    I know that all things have a purpose. I know this life is extremely significant, every single moment of it. I know good or bad is ultimately for my good. Isn’t that kind of amazing? It is to me.

  • Purpose and What Did You Eat Last Week

    Purpose and What Did You Eat Last Week

    I recently did a meditation that I couldn’t get myself into, I disagreed so much with the premise. I can usually go with the flow with any guided meditation, at least the ones I’ve done. Often the guided meditations lead to spiritual thoughts. This meditation led to a spiritual thought, but not in the normal way.

    The voice leading the meditation stated, basically, that we are on this big rock floating through space. None of us know why we’re here or what the true purpose of all this is. The meditation continued advising to set that aside for a moment and focus on your breathing, etc.

    I stopped right there. In my mind I thought, but I do know why I’m here, I do know the purpose of all this. I couldn’t get behind the premise. It’s a common theme of my writing. Where we come from, why we’re here, where we’re going. It hit me that 99% of people listening to that meditation probably don’t bat an eye at that statement. Most people probably gloss right over it like, “Yeah, I don’t know what the meaning of all this is.” That makes me sad.

    I just started a new book that talks about the temporal nature of this life and how silly it is to one, not believe in the things we can’t see, and two, put so much stock into the things we can see, even though they’re so temporary.

    The book asked what I ate 2 weeks ago. I had no idea. It made an interesting point. Food and water are the most critical thing to our survival. We can’t survive without them. Yet, what did you eat 2 weeks ago? You don’t even remember. What about the car that you love then 8 years later is a clunker. Or the house you cherish but inevitably becomes dirty, beat up, and cluttered with other stuff that is inconsequential. The book talked about how much stock we put into these things.

    How many of us consider why we’re here or where we’re going? How many in the world live in complete ignorance, not wanting to consider these great questions? It amazes me.

    We can’t see or describe heartache, fear, doubt, love, the wind, and yet they exist. Faith exists. Our soul exists. Eternity exists. God exists. These are the things that matter. I wish our society could spend a little less time with a Netflix special they won’t remember a year from now and consider more the purpose of this life. 

    The purpose of this life is God’s plan to make us stronger, better, and more like Him. We knew God before we came here. We will remember Him when we leave here. This life is so important. Not for food, or water, or cars, or homes, or Netflix, but for the faith we build, the experiences we go through, and the families and relationships we cultivate. I wish this is something we could all remember more.

  • The Refiner’s Fire

    The Refiner’s Fire

    *I wrote this in March of 2022.

    One of Newton’s Laws of Motion states “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.”

    In life, for every sorrow, there is equal and opposite capacity for joy. For all our abilities to cause pain and suffering, there is an equal and opposite capacity in us to provide joy and comfort to others.

    This brings up a thought: Without sorrow in general, we would lose the ability to provide an equal and opposite amount of joy. If there were no sorrow in the world, we couldn’t equally counter it with joy. This puts sorrow in a somewhat different light.

    Without our personal sorrows, we could not help others through their personal sorrows. This is why, among infinite other reasons, Jesus Christ’s sacrifice was so significant. He knows all the sorrow. He has experienced it. He can help us through all our sorrows.

    For some reason this week I’ve been studying Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity. The followoing thoughts and things I’m going to write probably won’t make sense. Scientifically, what I’m about to write may be nonsense. But they mean something to me, so I will try to elaborate.

    I read that Einstein came up with one of his theories when he was looking out a window at someone on a ladder. He wondered what would happen if that person fell off the ladder?

    While watching the short video The Refiner’s Fire, Ivy was in my lap. I was in a rocking chair. She was watching with me. I rocked while I held the phone, and we watched the video. My elbow was propped on the chair so as the chair moved, my body moved, and the phone moved. I wondered if Ivy was having to keep up with the phone, trying to trace it as it moved. I realized, probably not. Like me, she was moving with the chair that moved the phone. She was lying flat against my chest so as I moved, she moved, and the phone stayed right in her field of vision, in her eyes to see.

    Then, near the end of the video, Ivy, as toddlers are known to do, got impatient and sat up in my lap. Now she wasn’t flush with my chest. As I rocked and tried to hold the phone steady, she rocked back and forth, tossed about by the flow of the chair but no longer in sync with me in any way. In addition, I had to move the phone farther away, one to try to keep it steady, and two to keep Ivy from grabbing it.

    As I’ve studied Einstein’s theories I’ve been struck by the religious implications. Spacetime bends around the object with the most mass. That object pulls all smaller objects to it. They are drawn to it. Time and space literally bend to the will of the biggest object.

    God is our biggest object. He is the biggest object of the universe. He is, literally, a celestial body of such force that from many lightyears away our sun, our planet, and we are drawn to Him. He is the force that keeps us moving. He is the force that keeps us living.

    As I rocked in this chair, I realized the chair was God. He was the force I was rocking with. And as I was rocking with Him, it was easy to focus on whatever I needed to focus on. If I was flush with Him and in sync with Him, I could focus on that video easily as it rocked with Him. Ivy also, as she stayed flush with me, could focus on the bigger picture – represented by that video. But as she was dependent on me (flush with my body which was flush with the chair – remember God is the chair), when she lifted off me, it made it harder for her to see the picture. She’d disconnected from me and therefore disconnected with God. In addition, if I raised myself from the chair, I disconnected us both from the chair, from God, and we both lost the vision. We both got distracted, we both couldn’t follow the video, we both got tossed about by the swinging momentum, trying to stay flush with the chair (God) but having disconnected ourselves from Him.

    What does this teach me?

    1. In this moment, it is profoundly important for me to stay flush with God.  Ivy (and now Sage) are relying on me.
    2. It is profoundly important for me to teach Ivy, Sage, and our future daughter to become flush with God themselves, so they don’t need to rely on me. What happens when I’m not here?

    How does this tie into The Refiner’s Fire video that started this thought?

    We can create joy to counter sorrow. It is up to me to stay flush with God so that when Ivy, Sage, and my future daughter go through their refiner’s fires, they have somebody they can completely trust. In my life I have a great capacity to cause joy or sorrow. I think the greatest joy I can create in my daughters’ lives is teaching them that God loves them, they are His, He is watching them, and no matter what happens in their life, He will always be there for them. If I don’t teach this to my daughters, it would result in a great sorrow.

    Ivy, Sage, and future daughter will go through their refiner’s fires just as I did. They will need God in their lives at that time. We all need God as we go through the refiner’s fire. Then, when we come out properly molded, we can be flush with the chair (God) and help others as they stay flush with us, until they, themselves, can connect themselves to God. 

    It is our greatest responsibility, and the greatest joy we can provide, to teach others that God loves them. They are children of God with a divine inheritance. No matter what happens to them in this life, He is always there, and it will be okay in the end.

  • Be like Little Children

    Be like Little Children

    There is a Neil deGrasse Tyson video that I watched early on in my parenting journey that has helped me ever since. In the video, Tyson points out that when a child makes a mess, or destroys something, or does something seemingly with the only purpose being to drive a parent insane, they’re really just experimenting. Everything around a child is new to them. When a child throws their plate off the table for the tenth time, they’re doing their tenth experiment to see how that plate flies, where it lands, and how the food splatters.

    Children aren’t trying to make a mess. They’re trying to experiment. When you realize this fact you can also realize that being too harsh on a child making a mess sometimes discourages them from experimentation that can help their mind grow.

    It goes without saying that sometimes you need to draw the line: some experiments can be dangerous, and that eleventh plate throw doesn’t necessarily need to happen.

    I couldn’t find the exact Neil deGrasse Tyson video I saw those years ago, but these three videos share similar messages that I believe are extremely beneficial for parents to see, especially new parents.

    1 – The puddle

    2 – The egg and kids as scientists

    3 – Clean house

    “Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3).

    I think about this scripture often. There are so many traits of children. Which ones were Jesus Christ primarily referring to?

    Humility.

    Kindness.

    Trust.

    Faith.

    Joy.

    Enthusiasm.

    Curiosity.

    Forgiving.

    Energetic.

    I read this quote recently:

    “Your child is endlessly curious — maybe you’ll learn something, too. Your child is so enthusiastic — maybe some of that energy will rub off on you. Your child is forgiving — no matter what happens today, you can count on a 3-year-old to start tomorrow with a fresh outlook and ready smile. Your child sees the world with wonder.”

    I think that quote sums up what Christ meant when He said we should be like children.

    Curious.

    Enthusiastic.

    Forgiving.

    Fresh outlook.

    Ready smile.

    Wonder.

    In the midst of being a parent – the chaos of day-to-day life – sometimes it’s easy to forget the miracle that children are. I’m glad I have my kids to look at every day and see the wonder, the ready smiles, the fresh outlooks. The forgiveness, the enthusiasm, and the curiosity.

    As I sit here finishing writing this and Sage slowly walks around a coffee table with a little toy motorcycle, and sees me looking at her, and excitedly holds up the motorcycle and says “Look Daddy!” And Ivy, pretending to be Luna Lovegood, brings me, Harry Potter, a new “project” of French fries and dominos on a paper plate, and happily gives it to me, I’m reminded that I need to be a little more childlike today.

    I’ll put this away now so I can go be a child with my girls.