We Don't Think All That Much

As I was driving home from work on Friday afternoon I observed what I consider one of those "things which might make you go 'Hmmm...'"

Take a look at the cars around you the next time you're on a road trip or sitting at a crowded intersection. In much the same manner as a picture tells a story, like deciphering the ribbons and service medallions to figure the story of a military service member's accomplishments, we can learn much about our fellow travelers:

Where they live. License plates usually are a narrow-down, but not always. Extra hints can come from drivers with vanity license plate tags (Florida has probably the widest variety of vanity tags of all fifty states.). Sometimes you get a sneaky, esoteric vanity tag owner who gives their tag a more subtle meaning (a fast car with "B4NE1,"). Gives the DMV workers something to think about.

Marital status, number and gender of kids, animal and religious preference. The "cartoon character eared" family line-up is probably the strangest one I've run into, with the Native American kokopelli and the Polynesian-themed turtles being the coolest.

Where they or their kids go/went to school/college. Occasionally you get couples whose loyalties are split between two rival schools, which adds the Lincolnesque "house divided" identification. But there are vehicles and drivers ahead of me on the roadway who I knew were more likely dedicated to the "institution of higher football;" often proven by an action which reinforced their lack of academic (or financial?) wherewithal to get in. Okay, maybe not; common sense does not always equal common knowledge.

Their favorite athlete, team, sport or sports governing body. I bet NASCAR fans go into a tizzy at the end of the season, hoping and praying their favorite driver doesn't move to another team. Triathletes, especially those who participate in those events which start with an "I," always seem to have at least one sticker for every venue at which they've participated. I jokingly used a derogatory term for these persons after seeing car after car loaded with stickers for Wisconsin, Lake Placid and Louisville...in a Wal-Mart parking lot in Panama City.

Their political stance, to include support of present or former successful/lost causes. Come on, guys...the election was over years ago; in some cases we're talking ten. I peel that sucker off the glass the day after the election results are announced, win or lose. Gotta feel sorry for those poor Minnesotans who waited six months to figure out whether Coleman or Franken won.

Their sense of humor...which often ties directly or indirectly to all of the previous categories. Every once in a while you see a bumper sticker which transcends most of the topical areas. My favorite had to be one I saw years ago while living in Tampa: "Cat Lovers Against The Bomb."

A smart person equipped with a notepad and a smart phone can probably gain enough intelligence on the modern middle-class driver to wreak havoc on their life, all in the course of a 60-second period of time...the time it takes to pull a snapshot. But what kills me is this: The people who display their identity, affinity, proclivity, and "derivity" so openly on their motor vehicles are usually the same persons who complain about the invasion of the internet, the World Wide Web, service providers, and the government (at varying levels) on their privacy.

Sometimes, we just don't think all that much. Not about how weather conditions like heat and humidity affect our running performance. Not about adapting our workout intensity, duration, location or time to account for those conditions. Not about wearing clothes and accessories during our workouts which can reflect heat from above and below. And, most of all, not about hydrating during the day, rather than just during the run.

I went to run a 5K road race - on a lark - mere hours after I wrote a blog post about hydration. I hadn't drank much after an early morning visit to the gym, and I didn't even think about what possibly could go awry during my warm-up. In fact, I had the pre-race jitters and the feeling like I should make a run for the porta-potty. However, I knew once I started sweating things would be all right.

Boy, was I wrong.

I was parched by the time I approached the first aid station; usually I'll take a cup to pour on my head, but this time I needed two in me. Simply put, I forgot all about my own recovery and pre-race advice and counsel... Seven months is a long time between races; sometimes we forget the simple things - hydration, nutrition, warm-up, pacing, and patience - in that period of time.

As George Clinton of Parliament/Funkadelic said: "Think. It Ain't Illegal Yet."

Looking For My Lost Shaker Of Salt

Let your speech always be with grace, as though seasoned with salt, so that you will know how you should respond to each person. - Paul of Tarsus, writing to the church in Colosse (ca. 62 A.D.) (New American Standard Bible, 1995)


Once upon a time I was likely to shoot off my mouth; say exactly what I felt about training programs, fellow runners, race events, & life in general without regard for the feeling of others. Regrettably, one of the consequences of this attitude is it pruned the all-too-short list of close friends & associates in which I confide. Even more regrettable is "once upon a time" is still my present.

The last couple of months of writing this blog, since I've learned the number of people who actually read it, has encouraged me to more consciously self-edit. An old military friend first mentioned the advice from St. Paul long ago when I was a tightly-wound 22-year-old. Age, as you can tell, has not mellowed me so much as encouraged me to look into the room into which I consider dropping a verbal hand grenade. Even a warning that the contents of a blog post are a person's opinion (which I borrowed from the blog of two-time Olympic medalist Simon Whitfield) are easily decontextualized by a well-meaning reader who decides to pull the material from the relative security of the source site (www.if-i-were-your-coach.blogspot.com).

In spite of the 'Discovery Channel'-like nature of the Internet, I'm still thankful it remains democratic. If you have access (If you can read this you do!) you can find what you desire, & say/write what is on your mind. No single authority says you have to research from a particular source, buy from a particular supplier, or follow a particular belief. In exchange for this democracy, however, each participant is (or should be!) charged with the responsibility to think critically & criticize in a thoughtful, responsible manner. Very few individuals are taken to task for irresponsible behavior unless criminality can be directly attributed.

As part of my day job I deal regularly with a demographic which truly are a mental & emotional work-in-progress. A writer recently described the mind of a young adult as being much like a Ferrari...with really awful brakes. I marvel at what appears to be zero rational thought or impulse control on the part of many young adults, shudder to think a small number of them are handed millions of dollars in disposable income when they can barely spell "investment," & take three deep breaths as I think of them at the controls of jet fighter aircraft, carrying semi-automatic/automatic weaponry & explosive devices, & the like.

Two decades ago, the psychologist James Marcia suggested we go through "MAMA" cycles when looking at individual identity, MAMA as the acronym for Moratorium, Achievement, Moratorium, Achievement, states of identity defined by psychologist Erik Erikson. Any parent who has dealt with an adolescent who suggests "I need a summer/semester/year off to find myself" is dealing with a request for identity moratorium. Not that older adults are immune from looking for an escape from reality. In fact, some are willing to digress even farther in the development of individual identity & responsibility & simply foreclose; take the direction of others, accept the prescription of influential authorities as their place in this world. Persons you don't want to see at a political rally.

But returning to the moratorium, some time off from running - one day a week, one week a month, & up to one month a year - is a healthy decision, as long as some healthy activity is substituted. It provides (at least it does me!) the perspective there is a world outside not constrained by training cycles, recovery, & all that stuff. The two-week recovery cycle I took after my target half-marathon in November made me anticipate the return to run training that much more.

Personally, I don't recommend or condone taking "time off" from responsible behavior, responsible speech or responsible writing. If you're in a position of high-visibility, such as a politician, athlete...or a coach, for that matter...be certain that people watch what you do & listen to what you say.

So, if you're going to say something, make certain those words are gracious & well-seasoned. You never know when you might have to eat them.

Two Runners Go Into A Pizza Joint...

...and were in one of those moods you get in after an entertaining week in the world which surrounds us. Yep, only more proof of the existentialist assertion we live in a world gone mad. So, right off the bat my (out-of-town runner) buddy & I are discussing health care, especially the lack of civility which crept into the debate, & definitely has shown in the aftermath of the bill passage. We're both pretty well aligned in the socioeconomic realm, in spite of our divergent belief structure (We've both taken the same side of a religious argument or two in the past couple of years, too - one of His Chosen People & one of His Red-Headed Stepchildren, tag-teaming...who knew?).

His solution to a contentious issue relating to womens' health was fairly entertaining; a variation of an old friend's recommendation for people who failed a basic civics examination (My friend was willing to limit to that and revocation of ones' right to participate in the electoral process. I would have added a mandatory two-year C-SPAN and PBS-only cable package in the mix, just to provide remediation somewhere.). Of course, the veterinary term (used in the comic above) was the term we both used as the solution...which when you're dehydrated, glycogen-depleted & fairly well stoopid after a mid-week run...sounded humorous to us & probably offensive as heck to the rest of the public immediately around.Ah, but what do they know? Most of 'em were busy on their cell phones, trying to find answers to trivia questions. And perhaps some day the name/s of some of the screaming pundits will be little more than the answer to a trivia question for my grandchildren.

So there's no real variation from settlement to settlement along the Gulf Coast, huh? I would have never thought Port Aransas looked anything like our barrier island. Of course, when I was in Texas I had no desire whatsoever to be near the beach or a large body of water. I was in the Air Force; if I wanted to be near lots of water I would have joined the Navy, right? The irony is that now I've been with the Navy longer than I was with the Air Force...thanks for the reminder, amigo. But he's been working with the Air Force for the past two or three years...high time for him to get back on something big and gray and... And then, there was that thing on ESPN last night...saw it briefly...and I have to agree with the cartoon below.