Run your very own gay 10k!

'Cause I'm not a quitter.

OK, OK, I'm a quitter. It's not that I'm lazy, it's that I get bored easily. But I do recognize that I lack motivation to finish things. My house is full of half-finished art projects. And my brain is even fuller of ideas I've never brought to fruition.

Since college, I've had few, if any, goals. But now I'm on the cusp of completing a big one. Next weekend my coworker and I are traveling to St. George to run a 10k. In my training, I've run further than I ever have before. But I've wanted to quit. I've wanted to quit so bad. The long runs are agonizing, painful, and sometimes just plain boring.

But I'm going to stick with it. Tomorrow is my last run before the big race. And even though it feels like my calves are never going to stop hurting, I remember that I'm trying to be a finisher. At the very least, a not-quitter. Wait, that's the same thing, isn't it?

This.

Welcome to my world.

Homophobia.

I'm guilty of homophobia.

When I was on my mission, in Vermont, a gay couple invited my companion and I to dinner. We scheduled the dinner more than a week in advance, and during the entire week, I was terrified. What would this couple do to us? Would they trap us in their basement dungeon? Would they poison us? I was irrational. Completely.

When we got to dinner, the couple invited us into the showroom of their antique shop where we ate at a beautiful rustic table. We ate the best pork roast I've had, delightful mashed potatoes and fresh, hot apple sauce. It was delicious. It was also pleasant. The couple told us that they had been feeding Mormons for years (no doubt trying to enlighten dozens of terrified pale-faced missionaries).

We shared a bible verse, then left.

A few months ago, I was walking home from a party late at night. I was walking quickly, as I normally do when it's late at night and freezing cold. I passed some teenagers. They asked me for cigarettes. I told them I didn't have any. And I kept walking. Then one said loudly, "Dude! You walk like a queer!" The rest of the teenagers laughed cruelly. My heart started beating quickly. I walked more quickly as I became more upset. I wasn't as upset at the personal attack, as I was at the overall feeling of homophobia that existed among that group of teenagers.

Even more recently, I stopped to get coffee at Café Marmalade, the Utah Pride Center's coffee shop, before work. While I waited for my coffee, I realized that there was a discussion group going on. There were gay boys and girls gathered around talking about what it meant to be gay. That coffee shop must be such a haven for those kids. I wanted to go around the room and give them all hugs, knowing that they probably faced homophobia at school every day.

So some questions. When have you experienced or witnessed homophobia? When have you been guilty of it yourself?

Highlights from my life recently, in pictures.

A spelling lesson, sort of.