A Certain Cure For Depression

The Court of Arbitration for Sport ruled that Oscar Pistorius (above) is eligible to race against able-bodied athletes, overturning a ban imposed by the International Association of Athletics Federations (that's the international governing body for track and field, of which USATF is a member). Pistorius wants to run the 400 meters at Beijing, but hasn't met the qualifying standard yet. However, he can be picked for the South African 4x400 relay team, but the squad has not yet qualified. If he doesn't get to compete in 2008, his goal is to qualify for the 2012 or 2016 Olympics.
In January of this year the IAAF banned him from competing, saying his carbon fiber blades gave him a mechanical advantage. Pistorius was born without fibulas, one of the two bones between the knee and ankle, and was 11 months old when his legs were amputated below the knee. Personally, I don't consider that a mechanical advantage, more like a biomechanical equalizer. Dude, he didn't have OEM body parts in the first place.
So, when I hear a person complain how it is too hot, cold, wet, dry, sunny...whatever convenient inconvenience (or excuse, as my coach might say - one is as good as another) exists to keep them from training (outside of the ones I absolutely understand, such as parenthood, domestic tranquility, work or recovery), they need to take a good, long look at Oscar Pastorius. This guy has been fighting for years for the privilege to compete against able-bodied athletes at the highest levels of competition. Now he gets to. Isn't that what sport is really about?

I felt quite bummed out last night, standing around at the track waiting for athletes to come work out...and nobody came. Most of the regulars, I then realized, were recovering from the triathlon last weekend, or were heading out of town this morning. On top of that, yes, there was the first Thursday evening of music downtown. I've wondered what folks would think if I were the one who didn't show up. Then again, that's the reason I guess I am where I am. I'm not bucking for martyr or saint status, and I shouldn't be complaining...much. Ah, but an hour in the pool should take care of this depression. If not I can always run the risk of self-drowning. ;)

Roles To Play

Honestly, the role of a coach is not to eat all of the doughnuts.

I started to slide into deep thought at the end of yesterday afternoon's long (ish) run; much of it caused by the amount of quiet around the house. Fortunately for me, the d-a-w-g has not learned human speech, nor has he developed his remote control operation skills. So, I'm still in charge while Suzanne is out.

If one ascribes to the belief - sport is religion - here are some parallels for running and multi-sport enthusiasts:

Sacraments - Races. As in most religions, there are sacraments performed on a more frequent basis (the local Rancid Possum 5K or Friendly Neighborhood Sprint Tri/Du)...others, are (ideally) once-per-lifetime experiences, your Boston Marathon or your Kona/Clearwater Ironman/70.3 World Championship. Preparing for the sacrament usually consists of a period of trial in order to prove ones' worth. Completion of the sacrament ensures membership into the select or chosen. Ask any Boston or Ironman finisher - some IM finishers will be easy to spot by their paraphernalia; the rest will have to be identified by their tattoos ("Dixie," I'm still jealous, brother...).

Prophets - Research physiologists, physicians and coaches; the ones who wrote the good books. In my humble opinion, there is a canon of literature every athlete should have at their disposal. Timothy Noakes' Lore of Running, anything written by Lydiard, research performed by David Costill, Jack Daniels' Running Formula are high on the list. Humble opinion - any text that has 100 pages of bibliography separate from the book (in re Noakes) is meat for the athlete.

Saints and Martyrs - The great athletes from years gone by, whose exploits become more great in light of being performed in low-tech circumstances; in Speedos, on non-aerodynamic bikes, in kangaroo leather spikes on cinder tracks, and most importantly...without benefit of altitude tents, Gatorade or (heaven forbid) performance-enhancing drugs. Most can be named with a single recognizable name - or diminutive version of it.

Dogma - refer to Prophets. For as many persons who wish to test the limits of their heart, there are as many paths (seemingly) up the mountain from non-athlete to athlete. Wasn't it Chairman Mao who said, 'let a hundred flowers bloom, let a hundred schools of thought contend?' At this point is where great schisms lie, especially in the world of running and runners. Triathletes, however, come from a history of being rebellious, self-coached, risk-taking loners and thus appear to the untrained eye to be less dogmatic. However, the sport has only existed for three decades; provided enough time it could happen there, too.

Preachers - Coaches. Some are willing to provide their credentials whether (or not) you decide to ask. Others feel a calling and take up the vocation in much the same manner as the local storefront preacher learns his trade; slogging away at his/her 8-to-5, Monday-through-Friday and standing trackside once the whistle blows. They try to be like (or better than) their master, despite suffering slings/arrows from those who would say 'isn't s/he the brother/sister of (blank), who we've seen running around here all this time?' The good ones rejoice when the individual athlete rejoices, and weeps when they weep. More often than not, they resist the same temptation as their athletes to find the easy, soft, graded, gentle downward-sloping path. Sometimes, though, it's hard to transmit the message that this stuff can be hard. If it was easy there would be more people out doing it.

So go do it. Prepare so you can show yourself worthy before the unwavering measures of time and distance.

(Someone needs to switch me to decaffeinated, methinks. And quickly.)