Category Archives: Sports

What’s Wrong With Me?

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Here’s an email I sent two friends Monday evening after climbing Mount St. Helens on two wheels. 

74 miles, 6,590′, 4,562 cals, 17.2avg, 4:18:32. The only thing that would have made it better would have been watching the two of you pull away from me somewhere along the way. I can’t imagine better conditions, perfectly clear, 60’s, light wind. Large group, 18 I think. A group of 10 went first, then a group of 8 about 15m later. I was in the first group and we stayed together for 15-16 miles when I ATTACKED. Those capitals were meant to be a joke because I went from 8 mph to 10, but did pull away. I felt badly for the first two miles, dipping into Zone-OppsIwent toohardandnowtheresnowayIcanmaintainthis, but I did create separation and after two miles managed to find a sustainable rhythm. My advantage was having ridden 50 miles Friday-Sunday versus 200+ for alot of the maniacs in the group (J, G, R, J, KD, B, M, a few others). I glanced back on occasion and saw two people at a couple hundred meters and then no one. KD caught me somewhere around 25 in and we worked together downhill and at the start of the steep stuff near the top. I was losing a little touch, 20m, when my seat bag came undone. Took a minute to fix and that was it. She probably put another minute into me from there. So I won the men’s division and finished second overall. J and R were next, D, R, M shortly thereafter, in less than 15m, so I probably got 5th. J and M were further back, not sure why. Silly to think in terms of place, it was just nice to be alive and healthy in nature. 

Ron

The last sentence is my attempt to snap out of my western, hyper-competitive frame of mind. I’m 47, riding with friends on a beautiful Memorial day and I’m thinking more like a 27 or 37 year old in the Giro d’Italia. I want to adopt a more eastern, process oriented approach to competition, but I feel captive to my gender, peers, and history. 

Shirking Responsibility

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I wonder, is it within your nature and my nature to shirk responsibility?

Educators often complain that students don’t take sufficient responsibility for their mistakes. That shouldn’t come as a surprise because if we’re honest with ourselves, we’re slow to accept responsibility for some of our unflattering actions. Too often, instead of admitting fault and applying ourselves to resolve problems, we expend energy trying to pin mistakes on others.

Example one. A friend’s son’s team lost a close football game this season “because the ref threw the game” as a result of a “vendetta” against the firey head coach. As the poor calls built up, the other coaches and my friend went nuts, and no surprise, the players complained mightily about the outcome long after the final whistle. Youth learn more from what we do than what we say, but in this case is was a combination of what was said and done. I told my friend the coaching staff taught a powerful lesson that day. When things don’t go your way, pin it on others. 

What if they had said, “Refs are human and make mistakes. Usually they balance out. If we had played as well as we’re capable, the game wouldn’t have been that close. We will not be the type of team that pins losses on the refs. We will take responsibility for tough losses. Now go congratulate the other team and remember the lesson of this game: if you let the other team hang around, anything can happen.”

Example two. Recently some college presidents have made noise about suing the investment teams that are managing their shrinking endowments. Here’s what I’d like to ask each of these presidents. Are you kidding me? These are the same investment teams that the presidents were praising the last few years for their double digit returns. News flash, markets go down. The lesson of 2008, sometimes a lot. Unless some of the investment teams were from the Madoff school of investing, and guaranteed annual gains, the presidents need to accept endowment losses without blaming their once golden money managers. 

Example three. From a distance it appears as if the gay marriage backers who opposed Prop 8 in California didn’t like the outcome and want a do-over. I know this controversy is white-hot and complex. What I don’t understand is how can any state allow propositions of questionable constitutional quality onto the ballot in the first place? Didn’t the state election commission ask “If the proposition passes, will it run afoul of the constitution?” Assuming the election commission was competent, I believe the opponents of Prop 8 should accept the fact that 52% of voters supported it and focus their energies on reversing the decision in the next election.

NObama

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Somehow seemingly everyone already has a beef with President Elect Obama (P.E.O.) Pick your poison, Governor Blogo, Rick Warren, which type of dog to get. Add me to the list. Wish I had turned away before seeing the clip of him at the driving range in Hawaii. It was irresponsible of CNN not to forewarn the audience with a disclaimer like this. “The following footage is not appropriate for those who fancy themselves golfers. Side effects may include queasiness and an immediate spike in your handicap.” The only nice thing I can say about the P.E.O.’s swing, it’s a little bit better than Charles Barkley’s. Here’s hoping he sticks to hoops.

 

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Swim Meet Addendum

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At the Rudolph’s Plunge swim meet I also won the 50 fly, 50 back, and 50 free. The 13 year old girl who touched me out in the 50 breast looked like she was on the juice. And she left right afterwards before any samples could be collected.

I’m just sayin’.

I also was the only person disqualified in an event (200IM),  and I did it with style, actually earning a double DQ. Apparently, you’re not allowed to roll onto your stomach during backstroke turns. My excuse was I’m a triathlete. I thought I had won a Dairy Queen coupon.

Despite my victories, I was not the swimmer of the meet, not by a long shot. That honor had to go to Evelyn a 90 year old dynamo who did the 25 fly, then the 25 back, then the 25 breast, then the 25 free, then to cap it off, a 100IM. She’s beyond inspiring. Best of all, she had to leave right after swimming to get up to Seattle for a dance competition. Her partner is a young man in his early 70’s.

Evelyn is intelligent, personable, and friendly as all get out. Longevity, we’re talking triple digits, runs in her family. Given her present physical and mental health, her fitness routine, and her joy, I expect her to continue rewriting the Masters swimming record book for years to come.

Keep moving.

Damn, where did that old lady come from?

Damn, where did that old lady come from?

Natural Order Restored

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You may recall that in October my 16 year-old daughter shattered my 500 yard free time (6:21 versus 6:28). Last weekend, at the Third Annual Rudolph’s Plunge, I attempted to reclaim the title that is so integral to my identity: family’s fastest distance freestyler.

Uppity daughter couldn’t fathom that possibility so she finagled an invitation to a Seattle concert. Fortunately the other two members of my posse were among the thousands (or tens) packed into the Water Cube (or Briggs YMCA) as I stood on the block.

I am not a talented athlete by any stretch of the imagination, however, I have developed a reservoir of endurance as a result of consistent training over the last 15 years. Another asset is an intuitive feel for even pacing. Case in point, the Seattle Half Marathon. The marathon website provides three pages of stats for each runner based on their timing chip. One graphic said that from mile 6.2 to 13.1 I passed 233 people and 6 passed me. I ran 7:20’s for the first half of the race and 7 flats for the second, hillier section. The art of the slow build.

Oddly, my Rudolph’s Plunge 500 may have been the worst paced race in my life. I don’t know why, but I went out WAY too fast. Long story short, I faded big time over the second half, but still finished in 6:17.5. L said at one point the announcer said I was on a 6:02 pace. Opps. It’s no fun going into oxygen debt and then not being able to recover.

Reminds me of a Prefontaine quote, “The only good race pace is suicide pace and today looks like a good day to die.”

I thoroughly enjoyed posting a 6:17 sticky note on A’s mirror that night before retiring.

And at the end of a quiet circle in Northwest Indiana, my sister just shook her head in disgust.

Even though A was recently named co-captain of next year’s team, I suspect she’ll just quit the sport now that the natural order has been restored and the family record is out of reach.

Senate for Sale

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About nine years ago a colleague of mine at PLU, a psych prof, decided to run for our district’s House of Representative seat. He was just re-elected to his fourth term.  But the way he went about it was an awful lot of work.  He had to raise money, campaign, study issues, and shake an endless number of hands.

No thank you. And anyways, how exclusive a club can it be with 435 members? And they say you have to start campaigning for re-election the day after you’re sworn in. Again, no thank you.

My plan is to enter the “Obama Senate Seat Sweepstakes” (allegedly) being conducted by Illinois Governor Blagojevich.    

I’ve thought long and hard about what to offer and I’ve finally come to a decision.  I don’t know how I failed to include this most cherished item of mine in my “top 10” list of possessions.  So here you are Gov Blago:

 

Yes, as hard as it is to believe, I’m willing to part with my UCLA Bruins 7up Commemorative Bottle because of a recurring nightmare where our house catches fire. We escape safely, but standing in our drawers in the street, L asks, “Did you get the wedding pictures?” To which I say, “No, but I got THE BOTTLE!”

One side lists Wooden’s ten NCAA Championships and the other side “Salutes John Wooden” by listing his career stats. There’s also an excerpt from the Pyramid of Success that reads as follows: Success is peace of mind which is a direct result of self-satisfaction in knowing you did your best to become the best you are capable of becoming.

I know that quote will resonate with you.  I have a feeling you’re about to have extra time to “become the best you are capable of becoming.”  I look forward to hearing from you, and rest assured, I’ll sign anything you’d like guaranteeing not to tell anyone why you picked an unknown from Washington State.

Seattle Half Marathon Report

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At 7:20 a.m. on Sunday, November 30th D and I found ourselves in a serious traffic jam on the sidewalk in front of the Experience Music Project in downtown Seattle. D ran professionally for nine years beginning in the late 70’s. 2:11 marathon; 4th in the Olympic Trials; 4th in the Boston Marathon, first American. Blew his knee out skiing a decade ago and has built it back through cycling. Now that he’s able to run 25/30 pain free miles a week, he thought he’d give the half a go.

I take responsibility for screwing up pre-race. We should have approached the start from the back instead of the front. Long story short, after hoping a few barricades, it took us 54 seconds to get to the start and then we had to slowly weave our way down 5th street. In a way it was kinda funny, D has gone from Wide World of Sports to mixin’ it up with the masses and the 1:45 Half Marathon pacer.

D ran a 1:26:36 which translates to a 1:25:42  and I ran a 1:34:42 or 1:33:48. I didn’t realize D and I were in the same age group until after the race or I would have taken him. I could have easily tripped him from behind on 5th street. I’m used to D dropping me on the bike. Now I have to get used to him running away from me. Some summer day at the lake I’ll be getting T ready for an Ironperson. D will be kickin’ it on a raft and I’ll say let’s go running and cycling boy. And then T and I will swim farther and farther away from him, and then we’ll accelerate, and maybe, just maybe, he’ll have a little more compassion for us mortals, bah, ha, ha, ha, ha.

Knowing beforehand that I’d lose touch with D from the get go, I threw together a “13.1” playlist and iPoded the run for the first time ever. So being a good academic, I should credit all the people who helped me along the way:

• Mile 1, Janet Jackson, That’s the Way Love Goes, “My love is blind can’t you see my desire.” Oh yes Janet, I can see it.

• Mile 2, Jill Scott, Golden, “I’m livin’ my life like it’s golden golden.” Easy for you to say, you’re not running up hill.

• Mile 3, America, Horse with No Name, “The heat was hot. . .” Love that phrase, I’m just not sure what the cold equivalent would be, the chill was cold?

• Mile 4, Elton John, Benny and the Jets, “Oh Benny, she’s really keen. She’s Got electric boots, a mohair suit. . . ” I always thought it was electric boobs. That’s kinda disappointing.

• Mile 5, I Feel For You, Chaka Khan, “Baby, baby, when I look at you I get a warm feeling inside.” I get that a lot.

• Mile 6, Bye Bye Love, The Cars, “You think you’re so illustrious, you call yourself intense.” If I wasn’t intense would I have just drenched my contacts with Gatorade?

• Mile 7, President, Wyclef Jean, “Instead of spending billions on the war, I could use it to feed the poor.” Preach it brother.

• Mile 8, No One, Alicia Keys, “You and me together through the days and nights, I don’t worry because everything is going to be alright.” Wowa Alicia, I think we should take things a little slower.

• Mile 9, I Wish, Skee-Lo, “I wish I was taller, I wish I was a baller, I wish I had girl who looked good, cuz I’d call her.” They just don’t write lyrics like that anymore.

• Mile 10, Serpentine Fire, Earth, Wind, and Fire. “I wanna see your face in the morning sun ignite my energy.” I get that a lot too. 

• Mile 11, Whole Lotta Love, Led Zeppelin, “You need coolin, baby, Im not foolin, Im gonna send you back to schoolin,” As an educator, I thought it was important to have at least one reference to school.

• Mile 12, Country Grammar, Nelly, “I’m goin down down baby yo’ street in a Range Rover, street sweeper baby, cocked ready to let it go, shimmy shimmy cocoa what? Listen to it pound, light it up and take a puff, pass it to me now.” Who knew Nelly smoked cigars? Thanks to L for meeting me at mile 12 and handing me the stogie.

• Mile 13, Lose Yourself, Eminem, “You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow. This opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo.” Enuf said.

Alcoholism

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John Daly. Professional golfer. Bomber off the tee with amazing touch around the greens. More personality than most PGA foursomes. Major championship winner. 89th on the all time money list at $9m.

History of drinking, divorce, domestic violence.

Found last week in a drunken slumber outside a closed Hooters restaurant in the middle of the night in Winston Salem, NC. Apparently had drunk so much and become so belligerent his friends bus-left him.

Seattle sports talk host, like others in the media has two things to say. 1) Funny mug shot and funny that Hooters is one of his primary sponsors. 2) Sad that he could have been financially independent “and lived a life others just dream about” if he had just not drunk so much.

There’s absolutely nothing funny about alcoholism. Ever. It’s an insidious disease. Nearly every recovering alcoholic stays sober with the help of others in an Alcoholic Anonymous like support group. I knew Daly was in trouble when from the very beginning he said he wasn’t into meetings, he was going to beat it himself. 

I couldn’t feel more differently than the Seattle sports talk host.

Let’s not confuse one’s W-2 forms and one’s legacy. Talk host would lead us to believe Daly’s tombstone will read, “Earned $9m, but it easily could have been double that.” 

The tragedy is not Daly’s unfulfilled golf potential and lost income. The tragedy is the shattered lives he’s left in his wake—children, ex-wives, friends, family, business associates.

Hope I’m wrong, but I don’t expect it to end well for Daly or for those who still care about him.

Finish Strong

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No, this isn’t about the election.  It’s about well. . . finishing strong.

When shooting hoops, always end with a swish from downtown. Backing up, holding the release, palming your face, and yelling “face” to no one in particular is optional.

When putting before teeing off, always end with a made putt. Pumping your fist ala Tiger is optional.

When retiring for the evening, always end with hugs, kisses, and rubs for the kids, partner, and dog. Stories, prayers, and tuckies are optional.

When swimming the 500 free, always save a little sumthin’ sumthin’ for the last 100.  Hoping out and dressing before your opponents touch is optional.

When eating Thanksgiving dinner, always end with warm pie and cold ice cream. Pretending to be European and lingering at the table for hours on end is optional.

When putting a wrap on a cycling season, always end with an epic ride in a beautiful setting with good friends. Using the brakes on the icy sections is optional.

Mount Rainier—Descending Sunrise—photo credit "T"

Rainier—Descending Sunrise—photo credit "T"