My Thanksgiving

(With a little bit of help from Don Henley, circa 2001...)

"A lot of things have happened since the last time we spoke; Some of them are funny, some of 'em ain't no joke; and I trust you will forgive me if I lay it on the line; I always thought you were a friend of mine..."

Over the last couple of months I've seen my high school classmates attaching through Web 2.0 modalities like Facebook. It's cool to see some of us have changed over the nearly three decades since graduating high school. Some of us haven't changed a bit. Some haven't left the old home town; some of us are sitting on the far side of the world, in places we would have never imagined being in when we were 17, 18, 19 years old.

"...Sometimes I think about you; I wonder how you're doing now and what you're going through..."

It's a d*mn good thing I'm married & I had no social life in high school. No old flames to fear re-kindling. Well, it'll be uncomfortable next year & I have little to recollect upon but the occasional band or track bus trip...compared to some of the parties my friends engaged in that seems pretty d*mmned lightweight. And since there was no Web 2.0 to speak of back then there won't be any incriminating evidence to dig up.

"...The last time I saw you we were playing with fire; We were loaded with passion and a burning desire; for every breath, for every day of living; This is my Thanksgiving..."

I'll be looked at with a certain degree of admiration, or pity...haven't figured out which. How many people get to re-make themselves 15 years after high school? How many want to re-make themselves? I think I can name at least one or two who would, but I'm not going there at this moment. Well, maybe I will.

"...Now the trouble with you and me, my friend is the trouble with this nation; Too many blessings, too little appreciation;and I know that kind of notion-well, it just ain't cool; so send me back to Sunday school; because I'm tired of waiting for reason to arrive; It's too long we've been living these unexamined lives..."

Getting married & divorced in the course of two years is a blessing in disguise; it showed me the superficiality of some people's religious faith, how fleeting their emotional support can be. It's a harsh wake-up call when you find the people you most hope to stand in your corner when the stuff hits the fan are the first to bail on you. It's provided insight on religion, on faith, & on the painful revelation the two often are not mutually inclusive.

"...I've got great expectations, I've got family and friends; I've got satisfying work, I've got a back that bends; for every breath, for every day of living; This is my Thanksgiving..."

Thank God for those years of solitude & searching in the early-to-mid-1990s. I would have never taken up running, never asked questions of the truths dropped in my lap on a weekly basis, & never thought about doing little more than a seven-to-three, five-day-a-week, working class existence. No college, no job potential, no relocation, no second marriage, no athlete-coach relationships...probably on the fast-track to fat, dumb & happy-ville.

"...Have you noticed that an angry man can only get so far; Until he reconciles the way he thinks things ought to be with the way things are..."

Coaching, here & now, has taught me the need to be less concerned about people who disagree. Most make their case known behind your back, with little or no evidence. They don't want to prove you made a mistake, they want to humiliate you in public. When you're the target of ad hominem attacks, there's not a lot you can do to defend without looking foolish...face it, some knucklehead is bound & determined to drag you down to their level.

"...Here in this fragmented world, I still believe in learning how to give love, and how to receive it; and I would not be among those who abuse this privilege; sometimes you get the best light from a burning bridge..."

So, I take my joy from making a difference in a small handful of lives; by motivation, by encouragement, by counsel, by setting the best possible example. The joy comes on days like today, when I can help someone run a personal best at a race...just talking them through the process...not screaming & yelling until it's all said & done (the right time to scream, no?). To those who decide to cross & burn the bridge behind them, all I can do is smile, watch them march into the darkness. Then I'll sit down to roast weenies in the embers.

"...And I don't mind saying that I still love it all; I wallowed in the springtime, now I'm welcoming the fall; for every moment of joy, every hour of fear; for every winding road that brought me here; for every breath, for every day of living; This is my Thanksgiving..."

This time of the year, with the darkness & damp & cold, is a strange time for running. You spend lots of time in solitary pursuit if you stick to the road or the track; treadmills only isolate us from each other through music players & headphones. Sometimes it helps just to break the rut; if you've been treadmilling regularly, get out on the track or the road. If you run in the dark under the streetlamps, get inside every so often. Break the monotony.

"...For everyone who helped me start; and for everything that broke my heart; for every breath, for every day of living; This is my Thanksgiving."

Strong Convictions

Listening to a Public Radio International program, The World, a researcher is trying to help reconstruct the voluminous amount of un-shredded (but hand-torn) data left behind by the East German Stasi (state security service) after the fall of communism in Eastern Europe. To this point, the information has been picked out and rejoined by hand; the best reconstructionist on the project to this time can put together the contents of one bag (presumably the size of a full-sized grocery bag) in a single year. Yep, that's a needle in a haystack in a barn full of haystacks. The researcher is trying to find a methodology, using scanner and computer technology, to subdivide the material into smaller piles so reconstructionists can have an easier time.
In the case of a single person's life (if they were considered a dissident) that's probably thousands of pages; probably millions of pieces...and in the best case, all together in the same bag. I guess the first question would be to someone looking from the outside, 'who cares?' But, if you're the person whose life was adversely affected by the decisions of a handful of bureaucrats, you'd probably be screaming for justice, or at least something that resembles closure. It might not make everything better, but it certainly would provide that AHA! moment that would better explain why something went wrong for you, given all of the available information to the contrary.

Basing strong convictions on exceedingly small amounts of data are never really good. Yes, there is that faith thing, but it usually pales in the face of the scientific method. If you're out and running little more than five easy miles at a stretch a couple of times a week, the odds are good you're not going to be able to run a terribly fast five kilometers. Stepping to the line without the prerequisite speed work, the right kind of tempo work, long aerobic running, or sufficient rest in your training plan is like trying to read a smudged, torn-up document...or applying make-up while the bathroom mirror is dirty and smudged. Your results are probably going to be less than stellar; you'll miss the gist of the message.

No Talking, No Problems

For the last year or so, I have written a newsletter for the club. Often, it's a digest of crazy stuff that goes through my mind during a particular time of the year, or a response to something I've seen or heard in the previous month...tied in with a neat article I've read or have been forwarded, results from local races and a few hey, make certain you get involved with this kind of stuff. Sometimes it goes well, other times I know I've done little more than tick off the masses. Ah, I'm the coach. Sometimes things have to be said that don't sound very nice.

This month, I told the club secretary the responsibility for writing the newsletter would be his. I promised I'd have my moment at the front and do whatever else he asked, writing-wise. I'll toss him a few articles I find and point him towards some of the many sources I've enjoyed reading over the past three or four years.
He sent me an e-mail the other day, which sounds like some of those questions I know get asked out of my earshot. I used to ask them to my coach in the past, too. Usually, when I heard the answer I felt like saying, 'Coach, why don't you explain that to them?!' But, I guess it's kind of like one of those things fundamentalist pastors are taught: Don't Answer Questions Nobody Is Asking, Silly.
Following along on blind faith is not good. Following a training plan or a coaching philosophy on blind faith is not good, either. Asking questions is a good thing.

I think most knowledgeable coaches don't mind answering the respectfully-worded question. It's the ones that sound like challenges to authority that tend to tick them off. Of course, when the question is asked, the athlete better be prepared to hear the plain, unvarnished truth of the answer.

It's not that coaches don't want to tell the truth; they might have a hard time placing the truth in a format that won't emotionally thrash the athlete. Hippocrates of Cos was right: 'first, do no harm.' Like Coach Ethan Barron of Tufts University advised, '...athletes will always sense hypocrisy. If you don't truly believe what you are saying, then don't say it.'

So, if I'm not talking, it's not that I don't love you. It's that I'm trying to find the right way to say what needs to be said.

That having been said, I'm having so much fun at this moment, standing trackside. I hate not being able to train because of this injury, but I like being able to focus my attention on my athletes, almost 100 percent. Having two or three ability levels going at the same time, as well as the occasional straggler or outside conversation, makes it tough...but I think my wife would tell you I'm laughing and smiling a lot at the track as of late.

Laughing and smiling...no talking...no problems. Right?

Finding Religion On (Or After) The Run

"Not forsaking the assembling of yourselves together, as the manner of some is; but exhorting one another: and so much the more, as you see the day approaching" - Paul of Tarsus, 'Epistle to the Hebrews', ca. 1st century BCE.

Mid-November. Second of three long training runs, preparing for a marathon. Let me tell you, if I had to do this all by myself I'm not certain I would have gone through with it, at least not the second or the third of three long runs. While I know it was truly nuts to do two hilly 8.2-mile loops as part of training for a (relatively) flat marathon, as I used to tell my coach, 'it seemed like a good idea at the time.' So, this time we split the hilly 8.2-mile loop into the front and back half of the training run, joining a relatively flat 6.9-mile loop to it by a smooth, shaded .6-mile stretch of road we used to use for tempo workouts. While it made the logistics of hydration a tad more challenging, it did have some conveniences (water fountains, bathrooms) which made up for the hassle.

We still were able to maintain our 'Blackhawk Down' policy, the idea of leaving no runner behind during training; the ladies were running at pretty much the same pace, and while one of our group went off the front, no one fell behind. By the time the girls showed up from their run we were nearly dry and very ready for coffee and bagels. There weren't any tables available inside the local bagel joint, but once the sun had come out and the temperature had risen into the high-60s or low-70s it was relaxing to sit outside, crack jokes and enjoy each others' company for an hour or so.

I rarely search for parallels between running and faith, but the Pauline exhortation makes more and more sense, especially if running takes on religious overtones for you. Long races, such as marathons, and competition periods that consist of several races can be seen as a test of ones' belief in their training, as well as the works (long runs, speed work, tempo runs, cross training, and so forth) that dovetail into the individual's 'faith'. Sometimes the best we can do for one another is be around to encourage our fellow runner, especially on those days when the run is little more than a slog and we begin to ask ourself, 'what the hell am I doing!?'

I guess you could go back and look at the letters in the New Testament, the schisms based on personality more than doctrine, and then look at groups of athletes and see, for lack of a better term, denominations. I keep thinking about Paul's statement of how each worker has a small role to play in the big picture, and then I can say, borrowing from Paul:

Igloi, Schul, Daniels, Hanson & Fox planted; DeFoy & I watered, & God gives the increase.