A Different "Army-Navy" Game

Since 2005, I've worked the technical side of running events, laying out and measuring road courses and doing grunt work for triathlon events.  I used to tout them in a 'matter-of-fact' fashion, but nowadays my signature block says, "extensive list of worthless certifications available upon request."  Most of the "worthless certifications" were the result of participating in enough running events to think, after the second beer, then say out loud "I could put on one of these."  

One of my favorite Clint Eastwood lines did not come during the most recent election cycle, but during his 1973 movie, "Magnum Force," where he says..."a man's got to know his limitations."  After one-too-many afternoons picking up aid station coolers and driving the sag vehicle while the event director was drinking beer with the athletes I went back to the technical support side of the running world.  Back to maps, paperwork, phone calls and e-mail from first-year event directors, and looking at the good, the bad, and the ugly of road races.

In the last month I participated in the behind-the-scenes details of two events; a 5K put on by the Chief Petty Officers Association, and a 5K/10K put on by the Special Forces Association.  So, this comparison of good, bad and ugly is a different version of last weekend's Army-Navy game.

Army-Navy has always been special for my family.  In the football-(sub?)conscious Deep South, team loyalty often has little to do with the school they matriculated (I went to a Division-II school.).  The Bowens and their extensions up and down the family tree have almost all been Navy people; my Uncle Billy (Renn) and I the only ones to serve outside of the Sea Service.  (My friend Chuck, a retired Navy Chief, reminds me I've served longer as a Navy civilian than Air Force enlisted.)  

We've all got a short list of what makes a running event stand out from its contemporaries.  My coach, Dale Fox, used to tell stories of runners who would drive to several race locations each Saturday and Sunday morning in the hope of picking up overall hardware...and a hundred bucks.  They knew the pecking order, and would look for the vehicles of athletes they could beat, and those they couldn't.  When I ask experienced racers the things they use to choose one road race over another, most will mention the course, the pre-and-post-race experience, the awards, and the shirt.

Course - Some runners like a scenic course.  Most racers want an accurate distance.  All want to be safe.  ARMY: The 10K was measured for certification after a course change.  However, the race director moved the start point 100 yards.  5K distance not measured for certification after course change.  Both courses had entire lanes of roadway and crossed twice over a bridge.  No intermediate split markers or split timers.  NAVY: Certified 5K course, which had cones laid down the center of two-lane secondary roads and a single lane of a major road.  Split markers and a split timer at the first mile.

Play-by-play:  Army wins toss, elects to receive.  Penalties stymie initial Army drive; settle for field goal.  Navy takes long grinding drive and scores.

SCORE - ARMY 3 - NAVY 7

Post-race - Entertainment, food and beverages; doesn't have to be a full spread, but you got to keep the runners happy until the results are ready.  ARMY:  There was some issue with the keg which never was resolved, but there was cold canned beer, as well as water, fruit, barbecue, live music, and free massages for race participants.  NAVY:  Old bagels, water and fruit.  And an iPod with tunes from back when I was in high school.  I like Journey, Foreigner and Fleetwood Mac, but I'm certain the younger participants would have preferred newer stuff.

Play-by-play:  Army quick-strikes for touchdown, point-after attempt hits right goalpost.  Scores a safety on ensuing kickoff.  

SCORE: ARMY 11 - NAVY 7

Awards - Age-group and overall awards should be both meaningful and of good-quality.  Something you'd post on your "I love me" wall.  ARMY:  Carved wood SFA7 logos all over the place.  Five-year age groups, overall, masters, grandmasters, etc.  Someone inhaled a lot of sawdust.  NAVY:  Ten-year age group (I finish as first runner over age 50 -- heck, age 40 -- and receive first in 50-59 age group) medals; overall male/female, oldest/youngest runners receive painted oars.

Play-by-play:  Good field position leads to Army ball control drive, scores touchdown but leaves Navy time for one more short drive.  Navy scores field goal to close out first half.

SCORE: ARMY 18 - NAVY 10

Shirt - great race shirts are advertising for future events.  Lousy race shirts are car wash fodder.  ARMY:  Black, short-sleeved cotton-technical blend shirt with SFA7 logo and original (contest-designed) artwork on front, sponsors on back.  NAVY:  White long-sleeved cotton shirt with small dog-tag logo on front, sponsors on back, several names misspelled.

Play-by-play:  Navy receives second-half kickoff.  Three-and-outs lead to poor field position for Navy; punt blocked out of end-zone.

SCORE:  ARMY 27 - NAVY 10 

Cause - Runners will support a race for a cause they can support.  ARMY:  Scholarships for children of soldiers killed in action.  Marketing in social media, on-line registration sites, local running clubs.  NAVY:  Rewards leading to prosecution of person/persons who shot and killed an active-duty sailor.  Marketing nearly nonexistent outside of on-line registration; single flyer seen at base bowling alley day before event.  

Play-by-play:  Good field position following Navy kick; return to ball control drive and Army touchdown.

SCORE:  ARMY 34 - NAVY 10

Intangibles - These are the little things which could fall under the overall race experience, but someone is going to point them out to you the week after as you're busy patting yourself on the back.  ARMY:  When I go into the Starbucks around the corner (as an event non-participant) and the racers are there in a line for the bathroom.  

Barista: "Can I do anything else for you, sir?" 

Me: "Get rid of the line in front of the bathroom?"  

Public bathrooms could only handle two men/ladies at a time...1,500 people might have been a little too much.  NAVY:  Porta-johns, about a dozen, for 200 people.  I'm certain they were hoping for closer to 600, but that goes back to the marketing thing.  ARMY:  Race director/staff are/were Special Forces officers and enlisted.  These guys know how to plan, adapt, improvise and overcome obstacles.  NAVY:  Chief Petty Officers, most of whom were/are members of the "three-mile-a-year" club, sans racing experience.

Play-by-play:  And the hits keep on coming.  Army grinds out one more long drive for a touchdown, but leaves enough time on the clock for Navy to kick a desultory field goal and warm up their lungs to sing "Navy Blue and Gold" first...for the first time in about 11 years.

If you're a race director, or you aspire to be one, perhaps some of these observations will save you a couple of wrongly-spent dollars and a couple of nightmares.

If you call me, however, I won't be available.  At least until race day.

Back To Basics, With Friends

“Life is partly what we make it, and partly what it is made by the friends we choose.” - Tennessee Williams (1911-1983)

In my former life, I worked as a performance technologist. The goal of that work wasn't much different than what coaches do, except I was less teacher and more troubleshooter. Most of that time - when not (desperately) searching for projects - was spent identifying barriers to optimal performance in the workplace. I've talked about the categories of barriers in the past, especially when looking at injury causes (the five "whys?"), so I won't do that now.

My employer decided to transition to Lean Six Sigma a couple of years ago. At the surface it's continuous process improvement like performance technology, except the focus is more on the product and the process and less on the worker. The worker is important, but the view of the big picture comes down to value. If a function provides no value for the company it's likely going to be pared away, cast aside or lowered in priority.

My wife and I talked about Lean this morning, especially priorities and work tasks. I reminded her if a task had nothing to do with what brought income or customers to the business it was probably a waste of time. Naturally, with every rule there exists an exception: There are some things we do which have little to do with core functions. The utility is based on our enjoyment or it strengthens a relationship.

A good example comes from my experience with the Emerald Coast Racing Team: It started as a weekly dinner and chat with my coach and his wife. What began as a nice, quiet evening out at the local pizza pub between the four of us spun into up to a dozen team members quaffing beer and cracking jokes on Friday evenings. The socials took on a life of their own and became more popular than the Tuesday and Thursday night workouts.

When a person who hadn't been to a track workout for three months asked where we were going to meet on Friday night I knew it was time to put the social aside for a time. Not long after that I also stopped booking hotel rooms for road trips when friends of those "once-every-three-month" members "desperately" needed a room. Too much trouble; not enough good karma coming back to me. To borrow from Leonard "Bones" McCoy of the "Star Trek" television programs/movies, 'I'm a running coach, not a social coordinator.' I lost some potential clients but the decision allowed me to return to the basics of coaching runners.

I've a small group of fairly dedicated runners this year, and the coach-athlete relationship over time has developed also at the friendship level. It's easier to speak to a friend in very honest terms, especially when "under-the-surface" issues stand in the way of a good race performance. Not that it's happened with this group, but it's nice to know the conversation goes both ways; sometimes in a tone which could send a "customer" off to patronize another coach.

After a workout about two weeks ago, my wife, Suzanne, mentioned about how we used to meet at a local barbecue restaurant after Tuesday night workouts. We all felt it was a great idea - I'm rarely in a rush to go home immediately after a good workout - so we started to talk about what we wanted. What were the basics we needed for a post-workout meal?

We've eaten in places which were a little crowded, with other patrons watching "Dancing with the Stars" who definitely were not thrilled in the slightest to share their evening with the endorphin-fueled quacking of a half-dozen runners. So, we knew we wanted something a little on the laid-back, runner-comfortable side of the spectrum. We all live anywhere from 15 to 20 minutes away from the track, so we did not want to inconvenience anyone too much by a location too far one direction or another from the track. We suspect we have found that "80-percent solution," a place which lets us blow off a little steam, have a beverage and a bite to eat before we go home to continue our recovery in earnest. And if it doesn't work for us we'll scale it back or find another place at which to decompress.

The best part of group training is - at its most basic - the ability to suffer through together; to pull and be pulled through by each other. And, when it's all over, the chance to laugh about how you somehow made it through.