Dealing With Setbacks

Check out this short video from the elite Nike athletes as they discuss how they've dealt with setbacks in their careers. This was one of the festivities of NXN that Lane was a part of! Very cool stuff!

Animoto.com

The Running Man

You really should read this story about Meb, the American who recently won the NY City Marathon. Very inspiring story!

When Meb Keflezighi finished the New York City Marathon in two hours, nine minutes and 15 seconds the morning after Halloween, he became the first American to win the race in 27 years. But some spectators apparently missed the three red letters on his chest as he burst through the tape. Keflezighi is only "technically American," argued CNBC sports writer Darren Rovell. He's "like a ringer who you hire to work a couple hours at your office so that you can win the executive softball league."

Though Mr. Rovell has since backtracked, nobody recalls similar comments about Alberto Salazar, the Cuban-born American who won in 1982. And if Meb's name was Joe Smith and he was born in England rather than Eritrea, few would have questioned his national identity.

When I meet Meb the morning after his appearance on the David Letterman show—almost as great as winning the race, he quips—he is unbothered by the debate raging on the Web about his American-ness. "What's the list of things you need to be an American?" he asks rhetorically. "You live here, you pay taxes, you live by the American way. I've been here for 22 years. I'm as American as you can get."

As for wearing the USA tank top: "What a beautiful day to wear it on. In New York, to win my first marathon in that jersey—it just gave me great pride."

Talking to the 5-foot-6-inch athlete as he is massaged, iced, stretched and bent by his physical therapist on the Upper West Side, I could easily forget that he is one of the fastest men in the world. Unlike so many other professional athletes—huge in ego and stature—Meb is modest in both.

Which is not to say the 34-year-old isn't thrilled about winning his first marathon. "My email is full, my texting is full, my voicemail is full," he tells me with an incredulous smile. "I was kind of late coming here because for the first time since I got to New York I went to the breakfast place at the Hilton. And it was nonstop: 'You're not leaving 'til I get this picture,' or 'I need your autograph.'"
Yet he's quick to add: "It's a big honor. With fame and with winning comes responsibility." Meb doesn't see the need to be a role model as a choice: "You have to. People are following you whether you like it or not."

It's almost too convenient to chalk up Meb's character to his upbringing. Nevertheless, like so many other immigrant success stories, understanding Meb's parents and their values is essential to understanding who he is. He puts it simply: "They molded me."

Born in 1975, Mebrahtom (his full name means "let there be light") grew up in an Eritrean village with no electricity and no running water. Besides poverty, Meb's parents, Russom and Awetash, feared for their family's safety because of Russom's involvement with the Eritrean Liberation Movement and because of the ongoing war with Ethiopia. Meb's father decided to flee. "He walked all the way"—60 miles—to Sudan, Meb says. Russom eventually made his way to Milan, Italy, where he worked to raise the money to bring his family out of East Africa.

On Oct. 21, 1987, a date that rolls off Meb's tongue, the family immigrated to San Diego as refugees with the help of the Red Cross and the sponsorship of Meb's half-sister, Ruth. "Dad used to wake up at 4 a.m. so we could learn English," Meb says. "He worked as a taxi driver and worked in restaurants to be able to feed the family."

Meb adds, "You start on the bottom, work hard, and your dreams will come true—and that's what happened. We have a very successful family because my parents always emphasized using the opportunity you have to the maximum: 'There are a lot of people that don't have this opportunity, so make sure you use it.' That stuck in our head."
They stressed school to their 11 children. "Sports was not in our blood or in our family," Meb says. "So it was 'Do what you can and work hard. Your teachers are your parents when you are at school. They want the best for you, so make sure you listen to them."

Meb's oldest brother, Fitsum, was the trailblazer. He started ninth grade not knowing a word of English. By the end of the year, he won the top academic prize. The Keflezighis still have the tiny trophy 22 years later.

That ethic was key to Meb's success. "When I started running for the first time—seventh grade—I wanted to get that A, just like my parents taught me."
Meb had never run in his native country and had no concept of running as a sport. But his family's San Diego apartment was down the road from Morley Field where the national Foot Locker high school championship is held. "When I saw them running, the high school champions, I was like 'What are these crazy people running for?' They're not chasing a soccer ball or anything else."

Meb's two older brothers decided to take up the sport, he says, and "I just followed in their footsteps." At 12, he ran his first mile. He clocked in at five minutes and 20 seconds—with no training. Dick Lord, the PE teacher at Roosevelt Junior High, called up the high school coach on the spot: "Hey, we got an Olympian here."
Ron Tabb, who ran the marathon in 2:09 in 1983, saw similar potential in the young runner. Meb recalls Mr. Tabb seeing him practice in 1992. "He said: 'You're going to be a great marathoner and make the Olympic team in 2000 and be a medalist in 2004,'" Meb remembers. "So a lot of people did read my future."

By his senior year in high school, he says, "I ended up being one of those crazy guys running in the national championships." From San Diego High School, he went off to UCLA. Bob Larsen, who has remained his coach until today, offered the straight-A state champion a full ride. There he became a four time NCAA champion. And in 1998, the year he graduated, he became a citizen. Meb traces his success back to those years. "It goes back to high school—you try to be the best high schooler there is, and then to be the best collegiate runner you can be." Unlike team sports, "with running, it's just you and what you decide to get out of it."

If Meb sounds old school, that's because he is. His message for young people is simple: "Life is precious. Do something that is optimistic—that is good for society. Don't sit on the couch." His heroes, other than the list of American long-distance runners he rattles off (Jim Ryun, Steve Prefontaine, Steve Scott, Eamonn Coghlan, Paul Tergat), are Jackie Robinson and his parents. About himself, he says: "My God-given talent was discovering when I could run 5:20. Not everyone can run 5:20 . . . I was definitely gifted, but I have to work hard."

His determined training has helped him defy people's expectations. At the 2004 Olympics in Athens, Meb was ranked 39th out of 101 runners. He walked away with the silver medal with high hopes for the Beijing Olympics.

The Olympic trials in 2007 brought no such victory. Not only did Meb not make the Beijing team—he finished eighth—he fractured his hip during the race. Then there was the terrible tragedy of Ryan Shay's death. The rising marathon star and Meb's close friend suffered a massive heart attack during the race. During this year's marathon, Meb crossed himself in the spot where Shay went down.

"The darkest part of my running career was last year," he says. "I could have easily hung it up." Was he tempted to retire, I ask? "Oh yea. I'm not going to say I wasn't. I couldn't walk—I was crawling like a 10-month-old baby," Meb says about his hip fracture.

Recovering from the injury took a year and a half of intensive therapy and "hard work." But "hard prayer" was also crucial for Meb, who, like his parents, is a deeply religious Christian. Though his training schedule doesn't always allow him to make it to church every Sunday, he makes time for prayer "every day before I go to sleep and every day before I get up." He also uses the 15 minutes he spends in the ice bath for reflection: "Every day in the ice bath is my God time," he says.
As he healed from his injury "I really got to know who my friends are—who's got my back." One of them is Bob Larsen, his coach for 18 years. "It's like a marriage," Meb says about their relationship. He's "a great mentor."

Meb lives and trains in Mammoth Lakes, Calif., a hub for distance runners because of the high altitude. Though the distance varies from day to day, there is no escaping the reality that marathon training is every day, approximately 130 miles a week. Sundays, Meb runs at least 20 miles, sometimes up to 27 or 28 miles. Thursday is a recovery day, "which means you run just 10 miles in the morning and then a few in the afternoon." Fridays are a "simulation of what the marathon will be like: He runs "race pace or faster anywhere from eight to 15 miles." He also bikes and lifts weights, though he has to be careful not to build up too much muscle. "For 26.2 miles, you want to be a lean, mean machine."

"During practice," he says, "probably 90% is physical and 10% is mental. When it comes to race day, it switches because you know your body is ready and then you have to use your head to be able to perform."

To pump him up for this year's race, Mr. Larsen encouraged Meb to pretend he was "going on a long run with his buddies. Relax for the first hour and get to work after that." Marathons, Meb says, "are about patience and even pace."

He followed that strategy on Nov. 1, sticking with the elite pack, even allowing himself to drift a few feet behind the front runner. The wind, he says, was the hardest part of the race. But Meb realized he was in a fantastic spot as he ran up Fifth Avenue. "With two miles to go, I knew I had it in the bank," he says. As he entered Central Park at 90th Street, he saw his opening and pulled ahead of four-time Boston Marathon champ Robert Cheruiyot of Kenya.

British marathon champion Paula Radcliffe has said that she sometimes counts her steps during marathons—300 steps in a mile. "I do not count my steps at all," says Meb. "I take in what the crowd is doing—screaming Go USA, or Go Meb! The crowd is always going to get you through the good and the bad." And the New York crowd, he says, is simply "the best that there is."

As Meb ran through the finish line to screaming crowds, he crossed himself and kissed the ground. Seeing his wife, Yordanos, put him over the edge.

"When she saw me—I can't put it into words," he says. "Here's a guy that couldn't walk, that couldn't turn in bed because of my hip fracture . . . so when we saw each other we just broke down in tears." Meb credits his wife, who is also a native of Eritrea, as critical to his ability to perform. "She is seven months pregnant, we have two kids, and I'm the one who's taking a nap. She's very unselfish. She's been a big part of this success." When he met her, right before the 2004 Olympic trials, "we just clicked about God and family and perseverance."

As he allows his body to recover—with ice baths, eating the right protein, and physical therapy—he is focused on his next races. The 2012 Olympics are a clear goal. Many are speculating that he might go for a win in Boston this April. "I really think I can do it. I've done it once and I finished third. Now I know the course and I'm healthy." How much time can he shave off? "The body can do amazing things. I still believe my best times are ahead of me."

Meanwhile, he's savoring his win. And next week, he'll be back to New York, this time for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Meb will be riding with Miss America—on the Statue of Liberty float.

Ms. Weiss is an assistant editorial features editor at the Journal.

Distractions

A crazy thing happened yesterday in Fairmont Park. No, not what you're thinking. I was running in the Mission Inn Half Marathon, at just past a mile, when all of a sudden a phone rings. I can honestly say that as it was ringing, my mind was all, "no, that's not a phone ringing. We're in the middle of a race. Phones don't go off in races."

I was in a pack of maybe 8 guys, cruising along at about 6:30 per mile, and one of them makes a surge to the front of the group -- like he wants some privacy or something -- pulls out his cell phone from I-don't-know-where and says, "Hello?"

Hello? What, are you kidding me?

Either I'm getting a lot slower, or this is just plain redonkulous. The guy proceeds to have a conversation with whomever, finally yelling into the phone, "I can't talk right now, I'm in the middle of a half marathon!" Well, duh, what are you carrying your phone for in the first place?

No joke here, but on my way back after the turn-around, I saw a woman carrying on a conversation on her cell phone. Goodness. What's the world coming to.

All this reminded me of how easy it is to get distracted from the moment. Most folks who run half marathons have spent a fair amount of time preparing for race day. 13.1 miles is not exactly a distance most runners can just role out of bed and go do. Because of that, I'd assume, one would want to put the entirety of their focus and concentration on the task at hand. Eliminating distractions, like, say a cell phone in your shorts(!) would be a given, wouldn't it? Again, I'm just assuming here...

What are you focused on? Anything? What have you spent a lot of time preparing for? What are you willing to give up to achieve your goal? Or are you too distracted by the tyranny of options, the din of being busy that you can't zero in on what is really important?

One of the consequences of a culture that thinks "you can have it all" is that we fail to see that "having it all" can be a major distraction from "having what's good." As you pursue a major goal -- such as a berth at CIF Finals this weekend -- I challenge you to think about what (or who) may be your greatest distraction from achieving that goal and kindly put it "on hold" for the time being. Trust me, it will be waiting for you after success has been accomplished.

Being able to talk on one's cell phone while in the middle of a competitive half marathon may be a modern marvel, but it certainly isn't a way to finish the race with any semblance of athletic dignity.

Hey buddy, the clue phone is ringing, and it's for you!

Going the Distance - Rebecca Asplund

Like a ship slowly moving out from the safety of a harbor, she cut her lines and said goodbye. I was surprised when I heard the news, knowing what I did about the years Rebecca had devoted to club softball before arriving at King High. I figured she'd do both sports, so it was with a couple of raised eyebrows I countenanced these words:

"I've quit softball."

Her conversion was quick and with conviction. By mid-October of her freshmen year Rebecca decided she had found her love and the love was returned. Running would be her passion and joy.

We watched with equal measures of joy and admiration as this young rookie dove into the sport headfirst, learning and growing with an ambition that seemed to say "I'm going to make up for lost time."

She ran varsity that first year. And the second year. And ... well then came her third season. Beset by a host of physical issues that robbed her of strength and endurance, she suffered through a season she wouldn't want to wish on her worst enemies. The days were dark and long and the season seemed to be one protracted bludgeoning of hope.

But somehow she managed to not give up. Maybe because her personality is anchored to grace and peace. Anyone who has spent any time with her is quickly attracted to her dimpled smile, joyful laugh and eyes that twinkle like stars in a blackened sky. If it is darkest before the dawn, then perhaps it was so that the light of faith could shine brighter than ever, glimmering a path of redemption and new birth on the seas of adversity.

Having weathered the gale of that horrendous year, she finds herself in the infant months of a new life, one brightened with the wisdom born only in trial and built on the realization that for every season in life, there is a new beginning.

Unmoored, she sails purposefully again, aiming at the open ocean of opportunity and trial. No telling where she'll end up, but this much I do know. Having learned to run by faith, not by sight, she's well-equipped to handle any tempest that lies in wait out there on the horizon.

Going the Distance ... Rebecca Trupp

One of the sweetest and kindest girls to have ever crossed out path has been Rebecca Trupp. She is known far and wide as a person who is as genuine as they come and a classy teammate.

Right from the start, Rebecca has been part of the heart and soul of the team. A caring soul, she has been the shoulder to cry on for some, the compassionate heart for others, the inspiring teammate for still more.

Typical of her in these last weeks of the season, she has single-handedly spearheaded our community service project, having contacted the directors of "Share our Souls" and taken the initiative to collect boxes for containing donated shoes which will in turn make their way around the world for those in need.

The cynic might say this is just a stunt for a girl to get attention as she finishes her career. Not so. This kind of action, love fully on display, has been Rebecca's trademark for all her years in high school.

While she never ran a varsity race, that's ok, for she realized early on that one's impact on a team is not directly related to one's athletic talent. Rather, the legacy one leaves behind is most significantly marked not by PR's and record-lists but rather to the level of their commitment and willingness to give all of what they have.

For four years, Rebecca Trupp has done exactly that, and for that King Cross Country is a better program for her having been here. As you donate your used pair of shoes next week, remember her influence and be thankful for all the good she has brought to our team.

Going the Distance ... Jarod Nocella

It was a revelation to me, just last August on the traditional "senior night" of Mammoth. Given the floor and a few minutes to reflect on his time in cross country, Jarod, like all the other seniors, spoke from the heart, with a passion and sincerity that rocked the evening. Among many things he said that night, the one that jumped out at me was this.

"After my freshman year, I almost quit."

I tried to hide my surprise, but as I considered the words a bit more, I realized that my surprise was a bit misplaced. Given what Jarod has done in his running over the last couple of years, my memory of those early months has understandably been shoved into the darkened corners of history. But I'll admit the words shocked me back to a place that was real, 2 years ago, a place I have happily forgotten about since.

He, like many, joined the team following a social goal. His friends had signed up and somehow managed to roll out of bed in the summer months at the ungodly hour of 5amsomething. He, like many, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and wondered what he had gotten himself into. But by the time he was officially a 9th grader, the ball of XC was rolling and he rolled with it.

His sophomore year presented a challenge however, as several of those he joined up with, quit the team. It was there at that crossroads that he strongly considered walking away too.

We are SO GLAD he didn't. His years have been a steady arc of improvement. He has been a tremendous contributor to the athletic and social health of the team. Here in this senior season, he has all the marks of one of King's finest distance runners ever! He's an absolute beast when he wants to be. He has thrown down some simply stunning performances and has been a rock the team can stand on.

I'm sure most kids consider quitting at some time during their years of running XC. The sport ain't easy. It demands a great amount of discipline and tenacity and sacrifice.

Jarod Nocella -- the one time "almost quitter" -- has done all that the sport requires and has done it well. Without doubt, Jarod's ability to "go the distance" is one of the main reasons King Cross Country is where it's at today.

Homecoming

It was cool to see cross country kids represented well at the Homecoming festivities on Friday night. Craig Aguilar and Rebecca Asplund were both nominated as members of the court and were acknowledged at half time of the football game.

Their escorts were also King XC alums, Charlie Alvarez and Casey Candelaria, both of whom are running well for the RCC Tigers!

Going the Distance ... Danielle Fillmore

In the course of any race, the serious runner comes face to face with a question: slow down, or keep going. The act of racing over long distances is an invitation to a dance with pain, or at best the management of pain. Discomfort becomes our partner and it is only those who accept this relationship that thrive.

It is the same over the course of time. Years and circumstances can be wearing, and trials leap in our way and shout with real words. STOP. GIVE UP. THIS IS TOO HARD!

As a freshman, she was playfully dubbed "little Fillmore" after her popular older brother who was finishing high school as she entered. Since that rookie year, Danielle has experienced both the valleys and mountain tops of running. She's battled injuries, illnesses and a season that seemed as if it would never end. During that season, she found roadblocks and culdesacs, confounding desire and offering escape from the beaten path.

What Danielle discovered though ... perhaps ... is an inner resolve and strength that she may not have known was there. She was driven to the brink, and the brink didn't win.

As a result, her senior year has been a good one. Good times have returned and success has been tasted. That sweet smile, distant for a time, has returned. In the curve of the lips, one can read the words that mark Danielle, I'M NOT GIVING UP. I WILL FINISH THIS.

There can be no greater reward nor greater achievement. Danielle Fillmore leaves a different and better person than when she came. Little Fillmore, is little no more.

Going the Distance ... Brandon Rogers

He is known simply by "BR,BR ... Beeee Aaaaar" It goes to the tune of an old song by P.O.D. which goes "We are, we are, the youth of the nation." I'm not sure why or how he was given such a moniker, but I'll admit I've joined in the refrain a time or two.

Brandon Rogers is a likable guy, he's got a very even temperment, I don't think I've ever seen him lose his cool. His facial expression, his emotions, his effort level could all be traced with a flat line. One might call him stoic and not be too far off.

But the story line of Brandon's running career is anything but flat. It's a span of four years that has steadily risen. Go back to 2006 and you'll see a freshman who was firmly planted near the bottom of the freshmen ranks. He was still that quiet and unassuming guy he is today, but he was a lot slower. His times rattled around in the 22-23 minute range and he toiled in a fair amount of anonymity.

Since that beginning, he has written a song similar to the Cars' Let the Good Times Roll. He's been knocking on the door of top-10, and his times today are a vast improvement from the old days. It's a whole new Brandon. Recently at the Clovis invitational, he notched his fastest time ever with a 3-mile mark of right around 17:00. Yea, a full 5 minutes ahead of his 9th grade times! Sweet music indeed.

So sing loudly the praise of BR's four years of running. Unlike some tunes, this one you won't mind having stuck in your head!

Going The Distance ... Sean Lee

If I were a man of greater wealth, there's a gift I would love to give Sean Lee on the eve of his high school graduation. What is it you ask?

Well, we're both avid baseball fans; he a devotee of the Yankees, my allegiance is closer to home and the Boys in Blue have elated and saddened me for 30 years now. So the perfect gift would be for me to fly the two of us out to New York for a Yankee game in their new $1 Billion stadium. It would be epic.

You may wonder what we'd talk about ... I don't. Sean's the kindof guy I could easily spend an afternoon with and the conversation would probably never slow.

The first inning we'd probably both just sit in awe of the stadium. The single most expensive stadium ever built would deserve an inning of finger pointing and "hey Sean, check that out!"

By the second inning the conversation would move to me playfully mocking his Yankees' absurd spending habits on players. I mean, come on, are these guys really worth all that cash? I might ask. His retort would be - quick wit he, "and how many World Series have your Dodgers won?" Ouch. Good point. Laughter would steal the injury, Sean has made me laugh a lot over the years. The guy is funny.

The third and fourth innings would be consumed with discussion of history and politics. Sean is bright, very perceptive, and was a great US History student for me last year and has sharpened his political observations and perspective. He's a passionate liberal, me a conservative ... you telling me this conversation wouldn't be interesting? Trust me, we've had some good, intellectual discussions which neither side wins. I like that. The banter might drag into the fifth inning.

As we munch on $10 hotdogs, recognizing the junk we're putting in our bellies, the talk would turn to memories of his four years of running. Good memories would consume us, memories of overcoming adversity and injuries and marking a career by one word: Improvement. Or maybe success. Or passion. You choose.

In the sixth and seventh innings, we reminisce about 8 years of Lee kids and parents involved in cross country. First his older brother David ('03), and now Sean, I got the pleasure of coaching the cleanup hitters of the Lee team. David and Sean are the 4th and 5th of five tight-knit siblings well-parented by Dave and Jackie whom I've enjoyed getting to know. A touch of personal sadness would be interrupted by a raucous singing of "Take me out to the ball game".

The game is all knotted up 5-5 by the 8th, and so we just sit back and enjoy the sights, sounds and smells of a good baseball game. If you don't like baseball, you wouldn't understand.

Still tied in the ninth, Derek Jeter steps to the plate and "goes yard" to win the game with a walk off. Sean leaps to his feet, spilling his coke. I cheer as well, as Jeter is a Yankee even a Dodger fan can love.

Especially when his hit beats the Angels.

(Last year I wrote about Sean's running accomplishments here)

Going the Distance ... Kelsi Tippets

Her list of accomplishments is impressive:

2009 King High Athlete of the Year
2-time King XC MVP
2008 County Runner of the Year
3 time First Team All County honors
3 time All State Honors
State finalist in 2008
Record holder
League MVP 2006, 2007, 2008
Record older at several distances and levels
She's being actively recruited by a number of universities, including BYU, UC Davis, Santa Barbara among about 20 others who have contacted her.
Oh, and she's kept a GPA above 4.0 the entire way.

Such a resume would leave many boasting loudly and often of it. Frank Sinatra's famous song, I Did it My Way becomes their refrain.

But that's not Kelsi. Kelsi's greatest accomplishment has been:

Humilty.

Her letter jacket weighs considerly more than it did when she bought it, burdened by some 20 patches. Yet she's equally adorned with a deferring and humble nature that belies the achievements. Slow to blow her own horn, she's handled the acclaim and honors that she's earned without lording them over others or doing anything to promote her already famous name on campus.

And for that we're grateful. Not only has she fashioned herself into a fantastic runner, but she's done it in the always fashionable style of grace and quiet dignity.

Well done.

Going The Distance ... Derek Nelson

Derek Nelson is one of the most impressive young people I know. He has truly been a blessing to a team that four years ago needed some folks just like him.

His start in running wasn't what one would call an "explosion." His talent wasn't clearly on display, but what was obvious was his willingness to be coached, ability to listen and desire to work hard and do his best.

That equation has resulted in what has become a truly glorious career of running over the last three years, and this season is shaping up to be a grand culmination on that theme. He's been a "rags to riches" story of sorts, reminiscent of those 19th Century stories penned by Horatio Alger who wrote of young boys who rose to great heights of success through "luck, pluck and virtue." I'm not sure how much luck Derek has received, but I do know how hard he has worked and how deep is his character.

Derek is the consumate worker. Both in the classroom and on the roads, no one could ever accuse Derek of slacking or taking short cuts. The guy gets the reality that nothing good ever comes easily. He has literally "lost his lunch" a time or two in the effort to achieve even more.

But even bigger than Derek's work ethic is the class and dignity in which he wraps that drive. He is not given to putting others down who fail to reach his level of commitment. He's kind and sensitive; honest and forthright. He understands and practices teamwork in an old fashioned way, making the guys around him better by his self-depracating and humble spirit. His character is as deep as the pacific and our team is TRULY better because Derek dons the uniform.

From very humble beginnings, to one of the cornerstones of our current varsity squad, Derek has littered his career with successes and valuable lessons learned in the valleys of adversity. The result is a glittering example of a young man that makes us all quite proud to say, "I run with Derek Nelson."

Going The Distance ... Craig Aguilar

Craig came to cross country on the last day of summer or on the first day of his freshman year, I can't exactly remember which one. Either way, he got a later start on the sport than his fellow teammates did that year.

Sometimes a slow start can lead to disillusionment, disappointment and in my experience coaching over the years, that leads to disappearance. Most kids who come out late don't last. Not sure exactly why it's that way, but it is.

So in that way, Craig is different. Not only has he gone the full distance, he's done it with class and style. Those two characteristics are Craig's strong suit. Gracious and kind to the core, he has painted his years here in vibrant colors of integrity, hard work, a positive attitude and a generosity of spirit that has made us better.

He's adopted a fun nickname, a morphing of his first and last names, "Craiguilar." I like that. It's cool.

All coaches ever really want from their athletes is that the leave having imprinted the people around them with the marks of quality and integrity. Craig has certainly done that, and King Cross Country is better as a result.

Going the Distance - Brad Sheets

Brad has become pretty much everything you'd want from a high school runner. I say "has become" because he didn't start as the complete package. Let's just say running probably wasn't exactly his thing when he started four years ago.

I remember Brad doing a lot of walking in workouts, and it seemed he was a long way from actually becoming anything that remotely resembled a runner. But time marches on, and as it did, Brad began to jog, then to run, and now he can race.

Along the way he's graced us with a positive attitude, a photogenic smile, constant chatter (those who've run any distance with him know this well) and now as a senior, the training level, experience and ability to make for himself a season that is altogether different from where he started.

For those who like to think that change can't come, that what we are is what we will be, that teenagers can't achieve, Brad Sheets is living proof that none of those assertions are altogether true. He's a living and breathing example of someone who appeared to be completely out of his element as a 9th grader but is now the living and breathing embodiment of the team and the sport.

That is quite a transformation. That's what Brad has done in his years here. It's quite a story.

I wrote more about Brad last year, to read that, click here.

Dodge Ball

Remember dodge ball? I don't mean the movie, I mean the game. We played it a lot when I was a kid, back when the earth's crust was cooling and school administrators weren't worried that the little Johnnys at recess might end up getting a boo-boo when a big red ball connected with their faces.

It was a fun game.

A lot of folks like to live life like it is a dodge ball game. We line up against the wall of time and spend our time trying to avoid the hurling red balls of suffering and adversity. The point of this game is to "stay alive" and do everything possible to keep from being hit.

While I'm no masochist eagerly seeking ways to hurt, when it comes to distance running and racing, pain is part of the process. A coach who many years kind of showed me the ropes of coaching once said it well. "The other sports tell their athletes to go out and 'play', while runners spend their time 'working' out. The point of cross country is to suffer."

Those words have kind of an ominous sound to them when you're trying to recruit 14 year olds who've associated running with punishment from a very early age. You can hear them thinking, "Oooh, that sounds like fun."

But the successful runners are those who find the joy that comes from suffering. Not joy IN the suffering, but the joy that comes FROM it.

Here are a few things that we get from that "good hurt" that comes from any hard effort.
1) strength and speed. There is no other way to develop these two main characteristics of great racers.
2) Mental toughness. When you're a mile from the finish line and everything seems to be on fire, your brain cries for mercy. You're a tougher individual when you can tell it to "shut up and keep going."
3) The ecstasy that comes from finishing is multiplied by the experience of pain.
4) Perspective. We begin to realize what we can handle ... and its usually more than we thought.

As we begin racing this season, make it a goal to not dodge the discomfort that will come over those three miles. Instead, embrace it, accept it and realize that the only way to the finish line is through a time of adversity and pain.

I promise you, when you come out successfully on the other side, you will NOT be disppointed.

Laughter is Good Medicine

Friday night was one of funniest and laughter-filled nights we've ever had at Mammoth. I haven't laughed that hard in, well, I don't know how long.

The last night of our Mammoth Camp is high on tradition. We celebrate the hard work and good times of the camp by staging a "condo desert contest" where each condo is charged with coming up with an original creation (nothing out of a box) to be judged by eminent taste-testers. There are no prizes given out except for pride, but by the way each condo goes about coming up with something spectacular (or, in the case of the guys' condos, just really good arguments for why their concoction should win), you'd think a golden statue was awaiting the victorious recipe.

I have to say that the girls' condos truly outdid themselves with two really impressive creations, one based on the camp theme, and the other a realistic looking oversized hamburger and fries, all made with delectable, sugary sweetnesses.




The boys, well, let's just say that's where a Night at the Improv broke out. Chris Miller's instructions to not touch one side of their cake "unless you like cajun chocolate" had everyone doubled over and Sean Lee's lawyerly "explanation" (read: "rationalization") of their mint cake made from well, butter, and more butter ... and even more butter, was equally hilarious. I about lost it when Coach Griesinger, the official judge, pointed to the third boys' creation and after a couple of pained bites, a swallow of water to get it down, deadpanned, "that's just horrible."




The Friday tradition continues with gift giving, encouragement to one another and our senior talks which were complete with heartfelt exhortations to the younger teammates and heart-tugging memories of good times and bad.

But the evening is capped off with the "Friday Follies" in which each condo presents some kind of skit or dance routine, usually in hillarious fashion. This year was no different, and when a group of girls decided to spoof Sean Lee's dance routines from each of the last three summers, it brought the house down. Sean claimed it was a "tribute" and he may be right. No one has busted a move like Sean in the last three years and the group of 7 girls got it exactly right.

They say laughter is good medicine, and after nearly peeing my pants Friday night in raucous laughter, I'm good to go!

What a great time it was!

Some Mammoth Images

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

For the first time in our 10 years of coming to Mammoth, we organized an official kickball game for afternoon entertainment. Complete with T-shirt uniform, umpires (Carrie at second base and CP at home), a score-keeper (Mackenzie) and the singing of "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" during the 7th inning stretch, the two teams (Channel 4 News Team vs. We're Better Than Your Team) put on a great show.

The game was actually quite exciting, with some questionable umpiring calls, a play at the plate, a double play, a number of errors, and several home runs (Jarod, Kelsi and Chris Miller) which moved the game to the bottom of the 9th, score tied at 6. With two out, up to the plate stepped freshman Brandon Berz who had flied out his previous two times up. Had we had a stadium, the crowd would have been on their feet. Sadly, the only two spectators mildly amused at our game stayed seated in the shade of a fir tree. Whatever.

The pitch from Derek Nelson bounced it's way to the plate and Berz's foot connected, driving it into deep right field. He circled the bases before the relay could get home and -- I'm not kidding here -- won the game with a walk-off home run. It would have made Andre Ethier of the Dodgers proud. The Channel Four News Team took home the win. We ate hot dogs to celebrate.

Here are a few pics from the game.


Danielle sports the look of one who's just flied out...

The official score card...

Team photo time


Our Chevrolet Player of the game with a walk off homer to win it in the bottom of the 9th, Brandon Berz.

A Visit with Ryan Hall

We had the great opportunity of hearing 2008 Olympian and American Record Holder in the half-marathon Ryan Hall. He's a local product out of Big Bear High, but calls Mammoth home now for his high-altitude training base.

After a "shot in the dark" email I made a week ago through his website to ask if he'd speak to our team, he said he was booked to speak to a group on Tuesday night and that we were welcome to join in!

We did! ...And it was awesome!

Ryan came across very grounded, down to earth, and willing to impart the lessons he has learned over the years to those willing to listen. He didn't brag, he just softly and at time humorously told stories of success and defeat, victories and failures, but mostly how he has grown and learned through his rise from wannabe basketball player in high school to America's best marathoner today. (He's competing in the the New York Marathon on November 1st).

There was so much to take from his talk, but the theme he tried to drive home was "to be confident in who you are and what you can do." He told the audience of high school and college runners that he was no more special than they were, and that in each and everyone of us is "the possiblity of greatness."

Of the many lessons he shared, the one that gripped me was connected to this last summer's Olympic Games in China. He was a medal-contender. He had placed high and ahead of many of the African greats in previous world-class marathons, and there was a lot of pre-Olympic hype over what Ryan "was" going to do on the final day of the Games. It wasn't to be. He finished 10th, well behind the leaders and was never in contention for a medal.

He admitted that as he entered the tunnel of the stadium, preparing to run the final 500 meters of the race on the track, he felt bitter. His lifetime goal had fallen short -- way short in his mind. Yet, something happened in the tunnel that he said not only changed the way he ran that last quarter mile, but solidified a lesson he had been working through. It was there that he realized that winning was what he wanted, but not necessarily what he needed. He discovered that perhaps 10th place in the Olympic Games was EXACTLY the golden moment he needed right then for his career and for his life. So, he said, "I entered the stadium and thoroughly enjoyed the moment I was in."

For a 24 year old to possess that kind of wisdom is truly remarkable. And so it was a great night, listening to one of Southern California's own, a young man determined to use the platform his fame has given him to give back to the next generation. He used it well.

Deadman Running

We ran the infamous Deadman's Pass run this morning. We haven't run it in a couple of years -- the first because a distant forest fire covered Mammoth in smoke and last year because, well, I didn't want to do it.

It's hard. (Some of the kids claim "it's not that bad." Fine. Try it at 180 pounds with 43 year old legs. Then we'll talk).

It starts at 9,100 feet of elevation and ends 2.5 miles later at 10,200+. Your lungs cry for mercy, your legs are begging for forgiveness. They figure they must have done something really bad to deserve the punishment they are going through.

But on both go, carrying the rest of the body up the hill, perhaps pulled by the sense of accomplishment and the spectacular view at the top. We look across a small valley to the Mammoth Mountain. To the west, across a large valley lie the Minarets, a saw-toothed range of granite, still pocked with snow despite the month of the year. To the east, across the caldera, lie the White Mountains.

The athletes rejoice at the top, perhaps because they know the pain is over, perhaps because they see, and know: I did it.

In the years we've run it of course, we take the obligatory -- even mandatory -- team photo at the top. Where the run up is hard, the smiles at up there are easy.

Back in 2006 we had three freshmen in Mammoth, three rooks just getting their start, and maybe wondering what they had gotten into with such an effort. I snapped a picture of them there that day, and thanks to Sean Lee's almost daily insistance this week that we must "adhere to tradition", he reminded me of that photo and demanded another. I was happy to oblige.

Here is Kelsi Tippets, Sean Lee and Danielle Fillmore; all three have made the Mammoth camp each of their four years in high school. They've grown -- the picture shows that -- and we've enjoyed their tremendous contributions to the excellence of our program over these last years.



Here we all are, rejoicing on the summit...


We take it easy on the way back down, giving some the chance to enjoy the beauty of the Sierras

An Opportunity of Beautiful

Today we enjoyed the annual treat of Mammoth ... our traditional run into Reds Meadow, followed by a breakfast buffet and time at the spectacular Rainbow Falls.

The weather this morning was wonderful, a bit cold but refreshing. The 7 miler is mostly downhill through the woods with incredible views along the way of the Minarets and the valley in which Reds Meadow lies. The path is soft and easy, embracing the footfalls in a cushion of dirt. A natural spring near the end bubbles from the earth, begging the passerby to pause, look and listen to the gurgle of a newborn stream.

Awaiting us at the Reds Meadow Cafe is a scrumptious feast of eggs, bacon, pancakes, potatoes, OJ, coffee and fruit. We can eat to our fill. Nestled in the towering pines and firs, the cafe is a bit of a way station for backpackers and rustic campers. The giddy teenage noise awakens the early hour.

Rainbow Falls is one of the landmarks of Mammoth's backyard where the very brave take a cold bath, while the aging coach watches from afar with camera in hand. Old Man Griesinger is upstream fishing (he caught two "the size of Coach Peirce!") but he threw them back so we have no validation on this fish(y) story.

On the rocks next to the falls our troops of good-hearted parents snap pictures and soak it in. Their kids are having fun. Laughter bounces off the cliff walls, competing with the crashing water. Screams burst forth from the sting of frozen appendages and rise above the din. The photo is taken. Another Rainbow Moment is in the books.

A bit weary, we hike back to the cars for the long drive back home around the mountain. One thinks on this morning of the treasure we hold in our bodies, the gift of health and strength, of youth and laughter, of mountains, trees and water.

One drives away grateful. Grateful for opportunities of beautiful.

OMG

"Old Man Griesinger". Beloved coach. Cool dude. Good looking man.

Convict Lake, The View

Reeds and Sun

From near the trail today around Convict Lake.

Freshmen Apples

One of the traditions we have here in Mammoth is to award our 9th graders on the trip with a carmel covered apple from the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory. Not sure why or when it started, but the Factory is one of the treat shops in town, and I confess a personal attraction to their Cookies and Creme covered apples. That's for another blog post though.

Back to the freshmen. Given that most of the upperclassmen are thinking, planning and training for Mammoth since the middle of the track season, we don't hold the 9th graders who are new to our program to the same standard. We get all of about 10 days to get a sense of whether or not they could handle the rigors of the week here in the altitude of the Sierra's. So to be invited as a 9th grader is something of an honor. We can't take all of the new kids, so the top few who stand out and stand out early are given the nod.

Raelyn Werly has been impressive here, just as she has been down south. She took a tumble on the second run, skinning up both knees and by the time she reached the end of the run everything below her knees looked like red polka-dots from the blood "splashing" (she calmly noted.)

Brandon Berz just arrived today, as he was in Colorado over the weekend running in a 12 person, 200 mile non-stop relay. He ran three legs (each about 6 miles), the first he said with a smile was out of Fort Collins in 102 degree temps, the second was up 2000 feet of elevation gain -- at 2:00 am -- and the last leg was at 4:00 am. Uhh, yea, he can handle Mammoth.

Nathan Torres is a truly gifted runner, he seems to just float across the ground. He's shown a tenacity on our harder runs and workouts that we like. The kid has a BRIGHT future in this sport!

Lauren Soholt perhaps thought she had made the invite because of her sister, but not so! She's emerging on her own, separate from her sister's shadow. She's a tough cookie.

Emma Jaramillo is a go-girl! Wow, talk about a super spirit -- competitive and gracious at the same time! She's as ferocious as a tiger but as sweet as the caramel on her apple.

We're excited and proud to have these youngin's on our team, they herald a new birth for our team and for the future! Here on Monday of Mammoth week, they are doing well.

We've had a great first 24 hours! 7 miles on the first afternoon, and a combined 12 today has made us sore, tired ... but in remarkably good spirits. Maybe it's Coach Peirce's great cooking -- we're not going hungry. Maybe it's the ideal weather. Maybe it's just Mammoth. All is good!

The Eagle Has Landed

The tenth Mammoth Camp has officially begun. Fresh from our traditional "Mammoth Rock Trail" run, we've enjoyed the views, the thin air and the familiar confines of this little town.

We were quick to note that the Starbucks closest to our condominium complex has been shuttered. Dang recession! Not sure what I'm going to do...

But all is good after a safe, rather boring drive up the 395! More to come tomorrow!

Just Another Blog Post

I was watching a movie the other day ... not an especially good one, but it had a good line. The theme of the film was about living a "magical" life, going after your dreams. Living big.

In a conversation one of the characters was having with the protagonist, she recognized him for what he was and said, "So, you're a 'just' person. You can do just so much with your life. This is just toy store. This is just another day." You get the idea. She was critical of his self-imposed limitations.

I think I know now why my last girlfriend reacted the way she did when I said I just wanted to be friends. Ouch.

But that line has stuck with me these past few days. I've asked myself if that word just describes my outlook in life.

Will my marraige be just another marriage?
Will I be just another dad?
Will this be just another season?
Will my profession become just a job?
Will my days be just another clump of hours?

These are convicting questions, for I have to answer truthfully that sometimes that's how I feel. I just want some peace and quite. Just a little taste of mediocrity. Just a day ... or two ... to slack. Just give me a break.

Just a minute. Is this any way to live? I know it's normal, I know that's how most people live. But I don't want that.

Specifically,

I don't want King Cross Country to be just another team...
I don't want our runners to be just another runner...
I don't want this season to be just another ... I think you get the idea.

One of the most blessed moments of our last ten seasons came last summer when Jason Schupp talked to his fellow athletes and confessed that at first he was a bit intimidated or scared of me and the other coaches. But soon he realized he had no reason to fear because he came to realize that the coaches just want us to be our best. I smiled.

Now that's a "just" I can live with. Make that your only use of "just" this season and you'll be well on your way toward a season that just might be something magical.

Happy Birthday To Us!

Pictured is the team on King's first day ever! Can you spot Steve Griesinger (now a coach)? Sean Lee's older brother is in there too.


10 years ago today, August 3, 1999 - King Cross Country began. And what a beginning it was! We met at Earhart Junior High since the King campus was still a bit under construction. 34 kids showed up, only 6 girls. All were freshmen except for a handful of sophomores.

We ran about a mile that day. Well, at least the workout called for a mile that day. Most of them walked most of it.

I remember thinking, "we've got a lot of work to do."

And here we are a decade later. What a decade it's been.

Though we would be quick to taste success -- the boys team in '99 would actually win the league championship (a small-school league known as the Arrowhead League) there would be yearly challenges of moving up in competitive levels as the school grew. The girls couldn't fill a full team that first season, but have since gone on to win 7 straight league championships across three different leagues and run in CIF Finals 6 times in a row, something no other sport at King can claim.

We've seen it all in ten years! We've had our share of hooligans and looky-lews, but overall we've been blessed with great kids who increasingly are seeing that hard work won't kill you and the fruit of labor is sweet reward. We've had our fair share of talented kids, and many who have discovered their talent along the way.

So what will our 11th season hold for us? No one knows, but our money is on the idea that this could be our best season yet!

Lookin' Up

I went to see the Pixar movie Up last weekend with my wife and daughter. I was pleasantly surprised with the movie, and though I wouldn't call myself a raving fan, the message of the film has been sticking on me since then.

There were a lot of themes in the story, from steadfastness, longevity, determination and love. But one came through a bit more clearly to me than others.

Did you notice that both old guys in the movie were in a relentless pursuit of a goal? For Mr. Fredrickson, it was to live out the adventure he and his wife had wanted for decades, to have a house at Victoria Falls in South America. After she dies and he is about to be forcibly moved to a retirement home, he hatches a plan to tether his house to thousands of helium balloons that will lift him and his house up and out of his dilemma and on to his goal. You have to admire his grit and determination and ingenuity.

The other old guy in the film, Carl Muntz, is a discredited explorer who was cast off by American society decades earlier as a fraud in his claims he had found some historic bird, previously unknown. In rejection, he leaves for South America claiming "never to return until I find that bird!" Of course, now in their old age, the two men meet there in South America, making for a clash of titans.


Like true titans, both men are zealously intent on their goal. For Muntz, he MUST regain his reputation. For Fredrickson, to live at Victoria Falls is ALL there is.

Neither goal was necessarily bad, and as a coach who daily preaches to his athletes the value of setting goals, I can't disregard their pursuit. But the writers of the movie, while not downplaying dreams or goals, exposed a dangerous side effect to such a singular pursuit.


Both men had developed a contempt for others and for relationships. Muntz was alone, having surrounded himself only with a pack of programmed dogs, trained to do whatever he commanded. Fredrickson wanted to go alone, but has to drag along a young boy scout -- who accidentally stowed away in the house during the flight, a dog and a gigantic bird. It's clear that they mean nothing more to him than a hindrance in his quest to drag his house to the falls. He's crotchety, Muntz is downright mean, and every other character in the film are viewed by both men as little more than nuisances.

Goals can do that, you know. They can become so consuming, so idolatrous, that everything else in life fades away. While I encourage you all to be goal setters, to be determined in your pursuit of goals, don't let that pursuit cause you to disregard the people in your life. Don't become so bent on achievement that you become a pain to the folks around you. Life is too short and no goal is too great to allow us to step on others.


Go see the movie if you haven't. While it's not one of Pixar's greatest (That honor goes to Monsters Inc), it is certainly a story that can get you to think, and while you're on your way Up, it just may keep you from putting others down.

It's Your Team, What Will You Make it?

Entering into my 20th year of coaching (that's 40 seasons!), I'm still amazed at the process of team building. At the core, it's what coaching is all about ... anyone can do the "X's and 0's", but can you pull a group of disparate individuals and make them a team? Can you get folks who are naturally on their own page and put them on the same one? Can you get soloists to sing in unison?

These are the yearly questions I face and they are a yearly challenge.

But the more I coach the more I realize the job of making a team from individuals doesn't rest on me alone. Sure, I'll work hard toward the goal. I'll do what I can to pull and prod and push the scattered cattle into a herd. But here's the catch. The cattle have minds of their own. And sometimes despite my best efforts, we run the risk that by the season's end, it just may not be.

So this is for you. You, the runner, the teammate. What will YOU do to make this a better team this season? What will you bring to the group that helps smooth the rough spots, paint over the cracks, patch the wounds and repair the hurt feelings? Will you be someone that makes others on the team WANT to come to practice, or will your attitudes, words and actions make others think twice about showing up?

High School girls have a tendency to be "drama queens." They're good at talking behind others' backs, running in cliques and exagerrating the faults of others. Such drama is poison to a team. I have NEVER -- EVER! -- seen a team infected by drama or led by drama queens, succeed. It's a guarantee to fail. Drama makes everyone miserable, including those who dish it.

Guys are prone to be cut-throat. They like "one-upping" their teammates and are married to the pecking order. "That freshman isn't going to beat me!" some say. Where girls talk behind others' backs, guys will just stab them in the back. They can and do take lessons on clique building from the girls.

So here we go ... King XC's 11th season is dawning. If you're reading this, you are probably going to be one of the members of the team.

And it's going to be YOUR team. What will you make it? What contributions will you bring that will lift us up or tear us down? Will you work diligently, daily, to make our team more of a unit, or will you be one of those heads of cattle that is head strong, willing to see things only your way, and in the process you'll go your own way thank-you-very-much. (And while you're at it, you'll convince a couple of others to go with you).

Vince Lombardi, one of the greatest coaches of any sport once said, "Individual commitment to a group effort -- that is what makes a team work, a company work, a civilization work." True words.

But the opposite is true too, when "Individual commitment to individual effort, that's what destroys a team ..." and it's THAT that is the yearly risk and challenge of throwing a bunch of individuals together and calling them a team.

You can call them a team, or any other title you want, but what makes them a team is the consistent individual willingess to sacrifice one self for the good of the others.

Are you willing to do that this season? Are you willing to swallow your pride, your ego, your comfort zone; to blend your passions and desires with others' which might not be like yours, for the betterment of our team?

If you are, then I promise you this 11th season of KXC will be like none other. If you aren't I promise you a miserable season ... for yourself and for everyone around you.

It's your team, what will you make it?

The Voice of a Father

Today's my dad's birthday. I won't say what number it is since reminders tend to annoy him. Let's just say he's had a long life, and a good one.

I owe my running to my dad. Back in the 70's when the "running boom" was hitting the US like some pre-Oprah inspired craze, my dad jumped on that bandwagon and beat the drum into my two sisters and I. We were living in Nepal at the time, and I can still remember my dad organizing little road races for the students in the Wycliffe Bible Translator's school where he served as principal. I always got beat by my older sister, but somehow the memory that serves me most readily of those races was getting a little ribbon at the conclusion and seeing the monkeys roam around the Buddhist temple we ran out to and back from. Strange, I know, but that's my story.

Ribbons and monkeys aside, I really didn't like running. I was in elementary school at the time, and getting beat by your big sister, (and occasionally my younger sister too!) was humiliating even at 6 or 7. We came home to the States in 1974, the year before Steve Prefontaine's death and the heyday of Frank Shorter and Bill Rogers. My dad kept beating that running drum on into my junior high years and for the most part it just gave me a headache. He'd take us down to the track at California High School in Whittier and run laps with us. I'd cry. I hated it. As part of the school's PE program, we were occasionally timed for a mile and I remember running 5:58. It was an accomplishment, but not big enough to make me like running. I was stubborn.

I'll never forget a conversation we had near the end of 8th grade at the kitchen table. Dad told me that once I started high school I would have to be involved in some extracurricular activity. I guess I had few options, and maybe now that I look back at it, he knew that. I was all of 5-5 and 120 pounds and afraid of getting hit, so football was out. My adventures in piano and accordion lessons (yes, accordion, that was my mom's fault) never worked out, and lets just say when God handed out the whole "eye-hand-coordination" thingy, I was in the bathroom. So that left cross country.

But I don't like running!

Get over it.

So there I was in my short-shorts (hey, it was cool in 1980!) on the first day of summer practice. Nervous, yet eager to prove myself. We went for a seven-miler that day, a "lets see who's been running this summer" kind of run. The competitor in me drove me, despite the discomfort, and I finished near the front of the group.

I was hooked.

I went home and proudly gave my dad a play-by-play of the whole run. I don't recall what his response was, but he must have smiled.

For the next four years I ran. Like most kids, I had highs and lows, good races and bad. But one thing remains today, as clear in my mind as if 1983 were just yesterday: His voice.

That voice, above all others, carried. It was at every single meet I ran, never missed one of them. It was cheering, encouraging. It was loud. Not once was I told I had a bad race, even when I did. I heard his words of support even before I heard my coach's. They could cut through the pain and push their way through the exhaustion.

The air on which the words carried became a tail wind. In those lonely, painful third miles, they'd get me to the finish line.

Had it not been for the push my dad gave me so long ago, a significant part of my life wouldn't have been formed. Running became a part of my identity, even more so than it was part of my dad's. But through the last two decades we have shared pieces of the sport, including running the LA Marathon together in 1987. In 1996, when I ran the 100th Boston Marathon, he came along to lend that voice at the finish once again. He has on occasion traveled to Fresno to cheer on my cross country teams at the State meet and to Walnut for the CIF Finals. Though his voice at those meets wouldn't rise to a shout, when the last of my kids had crossed the line and the score had been tallied, he was always quick to offer praise or a simple "good job, Bradley".

Now drenched in a coach's sweat, that tail wind of my younger days has become a refreshing breeze.

And it pushes me on, still, in the miles we cover together today. Life is like a long distance race, how great it is to have a cheerleader, someone to shout from the side lines, "You can do it!" My dad has been that for me for 43 years. And for that, I'm eternally grateful.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Living a Life that Matters.

I know it's been almost a month since my last post here, but I'm hesitant to post "just anything" or to be pithy for the sake of posting. So I apologize if you think this blog has died, it hasn't I'm just waiting for some inspiration.

That inspiration came when I stumbled upon this charge to live a life that matters. Read it, be motivated! It is written by Michael Josephson.

"Ready or not, some day it will all come to an end.
There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours or days.
All the things you collected, whether treasured or forgotten, will pass to someone else.

Your wealth, fame and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance.
It will not matter what you owned or what you were owed.
Your grudges, resentments, frustrations
and jealousies will finally disappear.
So too, your hopes, ambitions, plans and to-do lists will expire.

The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away.
It won’t matter where you came from
or what side of the tracks you lived on at the end.
It won’t matter whether you were beautiful or brilliant.
Even your gender and skin color will be irrelevant.

So what will matter? How will the value of your days be measured?

What will matter is not what you bought,
but what you built; not what you got, but what you gave.
What will matter is not your success
but your significance.
What will matter is not what you learned,
but what you taught.
What will matter is every act of integrity,
compassion, courage, or sacrifice
that enriched, empowered or encouraged others
to emulate your example.

What will matter is not your competence,
but your character.
What will matter is not how many people you knew,
but how many will feel a lasting loss when you’re gone.

What will matter is not your memories,
but the memories that live in those who loved you.
What will matter is how long you will be remembered,
by whom and for what.

Living a life that matters doesn’t happen by accident.
It’s not a matter of circumstance but of choice.
Choose to live a life that matters."

My Mom

15 years ago this June, my mom died of cancer. Today is Mothers Day, and so I'm naturally thinking of that ugly time and hideous desease that took my beautiful mom's life. She was 54.

I can say that the years since her passing have allowed me to reflect more on her legacy than on the sting of her death. She was a great mom.

As my sisters and I went through school, I remember asking her once what she majored in in college. She was quick to reply that she studied "Home Economics". When I asked why, she said with great certitude, "So that I could become a better mother." Though she adored my dad, she loved us three kids incredibly. I never doubted that.

I think I got much of my tenacity and drive from my dad. He was a hard worker, like the Energizer Bunny of a few years ago, my dad just seemed to keep "going and going and going." I'm sometimes caught up with that spirit in my work and life.

But my mom was a softy. She could cry on a dime, was very tenderhearted and filled with compassion. I'm hopeful that there is some of that in me. I know this for sure, one of my mom's favorite pasttimes was drinking coffee and enjoying a scone. Sadly, she died before Starbucks was a ubiquitous establishment. She would have loved Starbucks. I think of her often when I can sneak away for a Saturday morning cup of coffee there. I order a scone in her honor.

More than coffee and fattening foods though, my mom (and dad for that matter) instilled in me the importance of leaving an impact. To live life not in pursuit of selfish endeavors but rather in things that last. It was at her direction that I was taught to be kind to my sisters, even when I didn't want to be. It was her constant smile, even when life was hard, that has reminded me to be joyful. It was her sacrifice of part time work -- "so I can be home when you get home from school" -- that taught me that material gain matters little. She modeled faith, hope and love like well-worn hand-me-downs; on loan from her parents, she passed them on to me. It was at her side that I was taught the faith that grows in me still. I hope to pass it on to the granddaughter she never got to meet.

My mom lived a very simple life, one of deep and abiding faith, love for her husband and her kids, and an appreciation for the things that really mattered. She was terribly grounded, in a very good way. I'm thankful that I had the opportunity to be raised in the home she made, for at heart, she was the quintessential homemaker.

Having worked part time at a bank and devoted herself to teaching Sunday school and the raising of her three kids, one might have understood had her death been humbly noted by a few people. What a jolt it was to see close to 1500 people attend her memorial service. I stammered and choked my way through a few remarks about my mom, all the while wondering, "how could a woman of such simple means have had such an impact on so many people?"

I guess I'm still trying to come to a clear answer on that, but I'm closer than ever to understanding the truth behind this statement, "that those who wish to find their lives must lose them."

My mom had, in a sense, "lost her life" long before she had lost it. She had "lost herself" in others, in giving sacrificially, in serving her family and God. She was a very special person.

Athletes, I hope you'll pause in the busyness of being a teenager to consider what your mom does for you. No mom is perfect, mine certainly had her flaws. But most moms work really hard to nurture, guide, instruct and push their kids to increase their opportunities in life.

I know mine did. And for that I'm very grateful.