No. Let me rephrase that. I like the idea of running. But I don’t like the actual act of it. I will only run when I need an immediate mental challenge to overcome. I’m weird. I know that. There have been times in my life where I’ve needed an immediate mental challenge… so I ask myself, “I wonder if I can run seven miles?” For someone who runs long distances on a regular basis, this may not be that big of a feat. For someone who has never ran a mile in their life, seven miles would probably be impossible. For me, it’s not an impossible task. But I don’t run on a regular basis. Actually, I don’t really run at all unless I need that immediate mental challenge to overcome. I did though, run all four years in high school. But that almost didn’t happen.
You see, when I was growing up, my parents required that I play a fall and spring sport. I never really asked them why. I guess they were trying to take up my time to help keep me out of trouble. But that’s just a guess, and I don’t know how good of a guess it is. In any case, for me, football was out. (That’s a different story I’ll tell at a later date.) So instead of football, I chose to go out for cross country. Now I say “go out for” like there were some sort of cuts. Let’s be honest, there weren’t enough idiots like me who actually joined the cross country team.
So the summer before my freshman year at Riley High School (R. I. L. E. Y. Go Riley), I walked into the school “ready” for the first practice. The actual cross country meets were 3.1 miles in distance. What I learned real quick was that the cross country practices were five or six miles Monday through Friday during the summer. And the only time we ran less, was the day before a meet. The easy day, as the coach called it, was 3.1 miles. This presented a bit of a problem… right away. The farthest distance I had ran before that summer day was 270 feet… in other words, in baseball terms… that’s a triple. More likely for me, I would typically only run between 90 and 180 feet… a single or double. So, you can imagine what ran through my mind that first day.
Not gonna lie here. It sucked.
S. U. C. K. E. D.
That first day I barely ran a mile. Then I walked. When I saw coach, I picked it back up and again. Then, when he disappeared, I would walk again. Then, when he drove to the next check point, I would run again when he came into my view. You see, we didn’t practice on a track. We ran neighborhood’s on the South Side of South Bend, Indiana. So the coach had set up check points so that he could make sure that we weren’t getting lost along the six mile course.
I did this on Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. And Friday. It was super clear that I wasn’t giving my best effort. I actually didn’t really want to even be there. Give me a bat and a glove and a baseball, and I’ll give my all. But ask me to run six miles… forget that. But I was fulfilling what my parents were asking me to do… be in a fall sport.
The summer practice ended on Friday and I walked home. Finally, the week of hell had ended and I was ready for the weekend to rest up. What I didn’t know, was that as I was walking home, my cross country coach was on the phone ratting me out to my dad.
When I got home, my dad called me out onto the front porch. I can still remember where we sat on the front porch. My dad asked me how cross country practice was going. “Uh. um. It’s going good. Um, well. Ya, it’s good.” Clearly that wasn’t the truth and my dad knew that. And, he let me know that the coach had called… BUSTED. My dad told me that the coach had called because I wasn’t giving my best effort, that I was walking too much. He said that the coach knows I could do better and actually be a good runner if I would only give it my best effort… or at least a better effort.
I’m sure I whined and complained about how hard it was to run in the summer heat… back in those days, like football, we had “two-a-day” practices. Instead of getting mad, my dad simply said, “If you give it your best at cross country, I’ll quit smoking. And if I pick up a cigarette, you can quit.”
What!? Deal. I said “deal” so quick. I mean, it was a no-brainer. There wasn’t a chance that I wasn’t winning this bet. Even if it took a month, I was in. I knew that I’d be quitting cross country sooner than later.
That discussion and deal took place in the summer of 1990. My dad hasn’t smoked since.
The joke was on me. I finished my freshman season of cross country. In fact, I lettered. Then, I finished my sophomore, junior and senior season of cross country. I lettered all four years and ran 3.1 in under 17 minutes and 30 seconds.
You see, my dad knew I could do just that if I gave my best effort. He believed the best in me. He made a sacrifice… he gave something up to help me eventually see the best in myself. Now, what he gave up helped him as well. I’m sure he’s healthier today than if he would still be smoking. But nonetheless, he made a sacrifice.
My dad could have gotten angry and given up on me. Instead, he believed in me and gave me a challenge and made a sacrifice to push me forward.
Parents, my challenge to you is this… what can you give up… no, what do you need to give up to help your child(ren) believe and see the best in themselves? What can you do today, that will help push them to be a better person now and into their life later?
