Joe (running buddy) and I were talking about what makes a great athlete during last weekend’s run. I told the story about Dennis, who had wrestling talent, but did not love the sport. I told the story about Scotty who loved soccer, had talent, and worked hard, but lacked the necessary height and weight to play Division I.
There is yet another category of athletes I haven’t mentioned. I’ve known plenty of guys over the years who loved their sport, worked hard, had the physical attributes, but lacked talent. They aren’t particularly memorable folks. Mostly they are us. Me, myself, and I; we are they - the tall girl who tried to play basketball; the slow kid who tried to be a sprinter on the track team, and the big guy who thought he could be a football lineman just because of his size. There are plenty of us who love our sports, have the right builds, and work hard, but ultimately lack the speed, strength, agility, or whatever else is required.
All of which leads me back to a previous post regarding an excerpt from Again to Carthage by John L. Parker, Jr.
His point was that to be great at a sport you have to win the lottery of size and talent attributes for that particular sport, plus you need to love that sport in order to persevere through the workouts. You have to have them all in order to be great – Love, Talent, Physical Attributes, and the Discipline to work your butt off.
Many of us have everything except talent; fortunately we can still have fun doing what we love.
I guess that is one of the joys of life.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Friday, June 24, 2011
Gotta Have the Bod
John had a classmate in high school named Scott who was an incredible soccer player. He could do amazing things with the ball and was a prolific scorer. Scott was talented, obviously worked hard in practice, and loved the sport.
I got to talking with Scott one day and learned that he wanted to go to UVA. I asked if UVA had offered him a soccer scholarship and he shook his head no. He said he wasn’t good enough to play for UVA and I had to shake my head in wonderment. Scott was one of the best soccer players I’d seen over the years. He was fast, he had ball skills, he worked hard, and he kicked everyone’s tail in high school. I could not imagine anyone better than Scott.
When our son John got to UVA we went there for a fall visit and watched a UVA soccer game. I immediately understood what Scott meant, but did not state clearly. The players at UVA weren’t any faster than Scott, and their ball skills weren’t any better than Scott’s, but every man on the field was at least 6 feet tall and 180 pounds. Scott was 5’6” at most, and maybe 140 pounds. He wouldn’t win any headers at the collegiate level, and as a lightweight would be easily bumped off the ball by a heavier man.
Scotty was good enough in every sense but one; he wasn’t the physical specimen he needed to be in order to compete at the Div-I collegiate level and there wasn’t a thing he could do to change that. He had the love, he had the talent, but he didn’t have the physical attributes through no fault of his own.
I got to talking with Scott one day and learned that he wanted to go to UVA. I asked if UVA had offered him a soccer scholarship and he shook his head no. He said he wasn’t good enough to play for UVA and I had to shake my head in wonderment. Scott was one of the best soccer players I’d seen over the years. He was fast, he had ball skills, he worked hard, and he kicked everyone’s tail in high school. I could not imagine anyone better than Scott.
When our son John got to UVA we went there for a fall visit and watched a UVA soccer game. I immediately understood what Scott meant, but did not state clearly. The players at UVA weren’t any faster than Scott, and their ball skills weren’t any better than Scott’s, but every man on the field was at least 6 feet tall and 180 pounds. Scott was 5’6” at most, and maybe 140 pounds. He wouldn’t win any headers at the collegiate level, and as a lightweight would be easily bumped off the ball by a heavier man.
Scotty was good enough in every sense but one; he wasn’t the physical specimen he needed to be in order to compete at the Div-I collegiate level and there wasn’t a thing he could do to change that. He had the love, he had the talent, but he didn’t have the physical attributes through no fault of his own.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Gotta Love It
Back when I was in high school there was this guy, Dennis O, who was a gifted and successful wrestler at a neighboring school. (Why couldn’t that have been me?) His name was in the newspaper all the time. When Dennis entered Coe College he didn’t wrestle at all and the story behind this was an item of great speculation amongst the jock community. It was generally assumed that he could have been a 4-time conference champion and might have placed at the Div-III national meet. It was a great curiosity that he gave up wrestling. I was among the many at Coe who wondered why.
I got to know Dennis as a classmate during my years at Coe. I avoided asking Dennis why he gave up wrestling as I suspected that the answer had to be something deeply traumatic and emotional. It was beyond my ability to imagine a set of circumstances where, if I had his talent, that I would give up wrestling other than through a life-threatening illness or some deep psychological trauma. I was convinced that wrestling had to be a deeply painful topic for Dennis.
So one day, late in our time at Coe, in the normal course of conversation the topic did come up without my having to raise it, and I’ve never forgotten Dennis’s answer to the unasked question. He said, “You know, Tom, I never loved wrestling. I was good at it, but I never loved it. So I really didn’t sacrifice anything to ‘give up’ wrestling. There was just a bunch of other things I preferred to spend my time on.”
It is forty years later now and I am still blown away by that “aha” moment. He never loved wrestling? I’d never thought of that as a possibility, but of course, if you don’t love it, why would you do it? Certainly he is better off searching for, and spending time on, activities he did love. It made perfect logical sense for Dennis, but not for me. Also, if he did not love the sport, ultimately, he wasn’t going to be successful at it. But still, it was pretty painful for me, the guy who lacks the talent, to watch another guy with talent “give up” the sport I love.
I got to know Dennis as a classmate during my years at Coe. I avoided asking Dennis why he gave up wrestling as I suspected that the answer had to be something deeply traumatic and emotional. It was beyond my ability to imagine a set of circumstances where, if I had his talent, that I would give up wrestling other than through a life-threatening illness or some deep psychological trauma. I was convinced that wrestling had to be a deeply painful topic for Dennis.
So one day, late in our time at Coe, in the normal course of conversation the topic did come up without my having to raise it, and I’ve never forgotten Dennis’s answer to the unasked question. He said, “You know, Tom, I never loved wrestling. I was good at it, but I never loved it. So I really didn’t sacrifice anything to ‘give up’ wrestling. There was just a bunch of other things I preferred to spend my time on.”
It is forty years later now and I am still blown away by that “aha” moment. He never loved wrestling? I’d never thought of that as a possibility, but of course, if you don’t love it, why would you do it? Certainly he is better off searching for, and spending time on, activities he did love. It made perfect logical sense for Dennis, but not for me. Also, if he did not love the sport, ultimately, he wasn’t going to be successful at it. But still, it was pretty painful for me, the guy who lacks the talent, to watch another guy with talent “give up” the sport I love.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Today's Run - Saturday, June 18, 2011
I ran the 2+5+2 route with a 3-mile pick-up on 4-5-6 @7:33. Looking for the first symptom of my next injury; no signs so far, just fatigue. “A man’s got to know his limitations.” Not admitting any, just quoting a Dirty Harry movie. C’est Moi.
Could have run faster, but wanted to train rather than strain. It is the second piece of speed work inside a long run since April 1, so I was being careful. Mom will give me hell if I get injured, but isn't that the point, to find out how far/fast you can go before your body betrays you? My mind is stronger than my body. I can live with that.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Spouse and Kids
I started this post over a year ago and have let it sit idle. Not sure what the point is; just some observations, none of them original thoughts, just stuff I’ve picked up over the years –
I’ve been enjoying Ann’s comments on Facebook about how Alice is mimicking her. Alice cooks in her play kitchen, washes dishes, puts on jewelry, and pretends she is packing gear for a trip in the car. Perhaps that is what prompted these thoughts over a year ago:
Getting married and having kids is an experience of conversion. You convert yourself into someone else; not who you are, but who you’d like to be. You try to become the person you wish you were, a person who is better than you are when left to your own worst nature. That is who you become, or at least try to become. You become this better person because you love your spouse, and you love your kids, and they both deserve someone better than you. But you are what they have, so you have to become that better person they deserve.
Kids are near-perfect mirrors of their parents. They do and say everything you do and say. So you see yourself in them, and they acquire the traits you hate most about yourself. So you have to change yourself so your kids don’t become you. And that is why you sometimes don’t like your kids, because they’ve become you, including your worst habits, in spite of your best efforts.
Also, day by day they express their expectations of you, and these expectations are not small. Blinded by love, your spouse thinks you are a good and admirable person. (Perhaps they don’t know the real you yet.) Blinded by faith and love, your kids and spouse think you are god, or at least god-like. You try to be right about all things, consistent in applying all the rules, living by all the rules, eating some of everything, and behaving appropriately at all times.
Parenting - an impossible job and the only job I ever loved.
I’ve been enjoying Ann’s comments on Facebook about how Alice is mimicking her. Alice cooks in her play kitchen, washes dishes, puts on jewelry, and pretends she is packing gear for a trip in the car. Perhaps that is what prompted these thoughts over a year ago:
Getting married and having kids is an experience of conversion. You convert yourself into someone else; not who you are, but who you’d like to be. You try to become the person you wish you were, a person who is better than you are when left to your own worst nature. That is who you become, or at least try to become. You become this better person because you love your spouse, and you love your kids, and they both deserve someone better than you. But you are what they have, so you have to become that better person they deserve.
Kids are near-perfect mirrors of their parents. They do and say everything you do and say. So you see yourself in them, and they acquire the traits you hate most about yourself. So you have to change yourself so your kids don’t become you. And that is why you sometimes don’t like your kids, because they’ve become you, including your worst habits, in spite of your best efforts.
Also, day by day they express their expectations of you, and these expectations are not small. Blinded by love, your spouse thinks you are a good and admirable person. (Perhaps they don’t know the real you yet.) Blinded by faith and love, your kids and spouse think you are god, or at least god-like. You try to be right about all things, consistent in applying all the rules, living by all the rules, eating some of everything, and behaving appropriately at all times.
Parenting - an impossible job and the only job I ever loved.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Delusions of Adequacy
I was recently asked when I’d be making a new blog post. I was pleased to be asked the question because the question implied the blog has been worth reading in the past. And how sad that is, on my part, to be so needy for a compliment that I was all too willing to misread a bare question and construct an implied compliment out of nothingness. There you have it. I’ve yet again bared my ugly soul for your amusement. But the truth is I need a few compliments every few months to keep me slogging through my blogging, even if I have to compliment myself.
The truth is that nobody is reading this thing except for a few family members I’ve begged to read it, and are likely doing so out of obligation. We all have busy lives and this blog has a lot of competition for time. Kids, meals, exercise, sleep, work, chores, plus other forms of media produced daily by professionals are attractive necessities and distractions. This blog cannot compete with any of the above.
I’ve always been amused by the phrase “delusions of adequacy”, and I admit that I have had mine, this blog being one of them. Successfully writing technical computer specifications, annual reports, and memoranda for 36 years led me to a 2-year delusion of blogging adequacy. But the silence each posting generates is a greater indication of the truth than the occasional protestation by a singular reader that the writing is good and the stories are interesting. I’d like to believe the rare complimentary soul, but the silence is more believable as an indicator of failure.
Even though distance runners are experts in deferred gratification, not seeing the impact of a series of workouts for roughly 12 weeks, there has been little gratification, deferred or otherwise, while writing this blog. It’s been fun from time to time, but mostly it has been hard work. And no matter how much work I put into these posts, when I re-read them they just sound lame.
Also, I am running out of material. All too often when I start a piece I come to realize that it contains ideas I’ve already covered. When I go back and read old posts to see what I’ve already covered, I find I’ve been a self-righteous pompous ass, and the whole dang thing embarrasses me. The delete key is a tempting solution to my embarrassment. There are some stories left to tell, but when I think of how much work it will take to write them, well, I can’t even make myself begin.
I have a couple of pieces finished about what makes a great athlete and describe several representative folks I’ve known over the years who were one essential ingredient short of being great. But the pieces only say what every jock on the planet already knows. I also have another political rant ready to go, but I am reluctant to post it and tick-off all of my liberal relatives. It’s not much fun to read something you totally disagree with, so I’d rather not inflict my opinions on my cousins.
There is another post that is ready to go, I even had it posted for a couple of hours two years ago, but it is critical of a former coach of mine and will likely never see the light of day again. There are nine posts already written about work that are waiting for retirement, but even then, if I have wisdom, they also will not see the light of day.
So there you go folks, or the singular of that word; here is my latest post.
I cannot predict when I will be posting another delusion of adequacy.
The truth is that nobody is reading this thing except for a few family members I’ve begged to read it, and are likely doing so out of obligation. We all have busy lives and this blog has a lot of competition for time. Kids, meals, exercise, sleep, work, chores, plus other forms of media produced daily by professionals are attractive necessities and distractions. This blog cannot compete with any of the above.
I’ve always been amused by the phrase “delusions of adequacy”, and I admit that I have had mine, this blog being one of them. Successfully writing technical computer specifications, annual reports, and memoranda for 36 years led me to a 2-year delusion of blogging adequacy. But the silence each posting generates is a greater indication of the truth than the occasional protestation by a singular reader that the writing is good and the stories are interesting. I’d like to believe the rare complimentary soul, but the silence is more believable as an indicator of failure.
Even though distance runners are experts in deferred gratification, not seeing the impact of a series of workouts for roughly 12 weeks, there has been little gratification, deferred or otherwise, while writing this blog. It’s been fun from time to time, but mostly it has been hard work. And no matter how much work I put into these posts, when I re-read them they just sound lame.
Also, I am running out of material. All too often when I start a piece I come to realize that it contains ideas I’ve already covered. When I go back and read old posts to see what I’ve already covered, I find I’ve been a self-righteous pompous ass, and the whole dang thing embarrasses me. The delete key is a tempting solution to my embarrassment. There are some stories left to tell, but when I think of how much work it will take to write them, well, I can’t even make myself begin.
I have a couple of pieces finished about what makes a great athlete and describe several representative folks I’ve known over the years who were one essential ingredient short of being great. But the pieces only say what every jock on the planet already knows. I also have another political rant ready to go, but I am reluctant to post it and tick-off all of my liberal relatives. It’s not much fun to read something you totally disagree with, so I’d rather not inflict my opinions on my cousins.
There is another post that is ready to go, I even had it posted for a couple of hours two years ago, but it is critical of a former coach of mine and will likely never see the light of day again. There are nine posts already written about work that are waiting for retirement, but even then, if I have wisdom, they also will not see the light of day.
So there you go folks, or the singular of that word; here is my latest post.
I cannot predict when I will be posting another delusion of adequacy.
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