One of my hurdlers this year has a lot of potential … but her confidence level is really really low. I often catch her standing there on the track for minutes, totally immobilized by fear and overwhelmed by distractions. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a history of falling … a lot of memories of risks that just didn’t turn out very well or times when others let her down.

I’m the same way with love … I think that I’ll eventually be pretty good at it, but I’m simply terrible at getting over that first hurdle. I don’t really know how to discern what’s real and what’s not … to figure out who’s worth chasing. And when I do seem to get that right, I always end up falling flat on my face. I’m a total loser … never in my life have the time, place, and person lined up well.

And I wonder if my repeated tumbles have left me immobilized too.

• All-you-can-bowl
• 10 - 11:30am Saturday
• $5 (plus $2.50 for shoes)
• Crossgate Lanes
• You’re invited!

Tomorrow I’m taking two of my nephews, Nathaniel and Caleb, to the last Cleveland Browns game of the season. We’re gonna ride the train into the city, getting there just early enough to explore the stadium and get hyped up. Then we’ll head to our seats in the corner of the upper deck to brave the cold weather and cheer them on to victory!

At this point, it’s still a secret … I’m going to reveal it first thing in the morning, and I can’t wait to see their excitement!

These men and women in Gloucester, UK are competing in the annual “Cheese Rolling” competition. They’re not just falling … they’re chasing an 8lb double gloucester cheese.

Should I have put this post in the Sports category?

[via digg and Paul]

Red Socks Sox.
Patriots.
Celtics.

One city.
One year.
Three championships.

Grace, one of my former student-athletes, just sent me an English paper that she wrote about her first few days on my cross country team two years ago.

She’s an incredible writer … grammatically better than most adults that I know and downright hilarious too. Her narrative had me rolling on the floor, remembering a footprint-covered Grace crossing the finish line and the never-ending stories that followed. I really hope that she chooses to use her gift of writing, maybe even as a blogger!

Without further ado, here’s Grace’s story.

The Finish Line
by Grace Reifenberg

Cross Country was the worst decision of my life.

I wearily rubbed my sleep-deprived eyes with a clenched fist and slowly trudged through the empty parking towards my waiting cross country team. The damp grass still glistened with drops from the morning rain shower. The unpleasantly cold morning air chilled me to the bone. Shivering, I huddled in my warm-up even tighter.

At only 8am, I was not looking forward to running, in a mere couple of hours, the 2 mile race. I approached my team still only semi-conscious. My forever-energetic coach enthusiastically slapped me on the back and attempted to pry away the blanket wrapped firmly around me with no luck. Still drowsy, I joined my other teammates huddled together under our team tent. The wind thrashed against the flimsy fabric, threatening to blow it away. The biting air stung our faces as we tried to shelter ourselves from the cold. It was our first cross country meet of the season – my first meet ever.

Under the tent, the oranges and bagels were ignored while the hot chocolate was gone within minutes. As the meet rapidly approached, it soon became time to start our warm-ups. We slowly began our warm-up jog. The cold air nipped at my cheeks, making my eyes water, as we jogged slowly around the soccer field where the course began. As a team, our goal was to keep our muscles warm by leaving our warm-ups on until the very last minute. Even with the thick, water-resistant warm-ups, you could still feel the chill of the frosty air. With rosy cheeks and blue lips, I joined the circle to stretch. My coach began to explain the course’s layout to us. We would start on a soccer field, run around a couple baseball fields, cross a creek, through the woods, along a dirt road, past many cow pastures, and then eventually make it to the chute. As he was describing the course, I began to realize that this race was going to be nothing like practice.

The race official stood up with his winter jacket, earmuffs, and gloves and blew on his whistle. It was time. Dread filled my body. This was it. I had to part with my warm, comforting warm-up and be exposed to the freezing air. Some choose to slowly peel off their cozy pants and jacket, savoring every last bit of their body heat, while I went for more of the shock method. As I tore off my sweats and stood in my skimpy cross country uniform, I was hit with a blast of icy air. Immediately, my entire body shook uncontrollably. Within the couple minutes it takes to get situated on the line, my legs and hands went completely numb.

Once the shock of the cold began to wear off, I felt the nervousness creeping up in me. Standing on the starting line, I slowly began to realize the terrors of the situation I had somehow gotten myself into. After only two practices, somehow I was standing on the starting line of my first cross country race ever. My stomach felt like there was an entire family of butterflies living in it, while my confident swagger quickly vanished and was replaced with trembling knees. Absolute terror was etched upon my face as the official announced,

“Runners, take your marks.”

I gulped and fearfully stepped up to the line.

“Get set.”

Fear clutched my chest as I crouched down. And my legs began to shake uncontrollably. I took one last big breath and braced myself for the single word that would declare my fate.

“Go!”

The deafening blast of the gun made my heart jump in my chest as my legs simultaneously propelled my body forward along with the rest of the pack. I threw myself forward, desperate not to get stuck in the back. When I glanced around, seeing others jostling for position, I was quite surprised to find myself near the front of the pack.

Within the first 100 meters, my legs went completely numb and turned a dark shade of red. After a little while I began to feel the effects of my “not-so-smart” quick start. I settled into a more reasonable pace and tried to focus on the little yellow flags directing me where to go. I was determined not to get lost.

As we turned into the woods, I was met by a raging creek. Its powerful waters demanded respect. The usual trickle of a stream had turned into a rushing, fast-moving creek from the early morning thunderstorm. So much for the new running shoes. Toward the front of the pack, I carefully strode across the creek. As I turned to continue on, I was met by the steepest, muddiest hill I have ever seen. It took up the entire bank of the creek. Already, bodies were scrambling up grabbing onto whatever root they could get a hold of.

Not wanting to miss out, I threw myself into the middle of the pack. Many had made it up the treacherous hill and were continuing on with the race. At the bottom of the pile, I was being crushed by the many bodies attempting to get up the slippery slope. I dug my fingers into the mud, holding on for dear life and managed to pull myself up and hang onto a root. Unfortunately for me, I was stuck like that. Because I had become a barrier, not at the top or bottom of the hill, people began to use me as a replacement for the missing root. Before I knew it, people were grabbing onto my jersey, pulling themselves up by my leg, and even using my shoulder or head as a foot step. I was helpless; lying there in three inch deep mud with my opponents using me as a ladder. Yet, the whole time I was laughing uncontrollably.

My friend and teammate, Sarah, grabbed one of my arms and desperately tried to pull me free. At this point, we were both laughing so hard we had tears in our eyes. Eventually, after just about every runner not only passed me, but used me as a stepstool; I was able to slowly pry myself out of the oozing, bone-chilling mud. I quickly grabbed the root, hoisted myself up, and took off at a dead sprint. As I ran through the woods, I eventually caught up with most of my other teammates. I was just a little more tired, a little bit colder, and a whole lot muddier then anybody else out there.

Eventually, I got back into my stride. With every pounding step, the shock vibrated through my entire body. My lungs began to burn and my throat felt like I swallowed nails. Yet strangely, it wasn’t as nearly as miserable as I had expected.

As my body began to tire, my brain came up with millions of reasons why to stop. My raspy breathing came in gasps and I was positive there was no way I could finish. Yet, my feet keep moving; one step after another. Just one step.

As I rounded the bend towards the finish, my breaths came in short, inadequate gasps. I no longer had any control over my legs. I propelled myself forward towards the finish line. Towards warmth. I gave everything I had that last 200 meter stretch. I didn’t feel anything, I just ran. As I crossed the finish line, my exhausted yet exhilarated body collapsed with relief. I had accomplished my goal.

Cross Country was the worst decision of my life. Yet, it was also one of the best. It challenged me to push myself further than I have ever done before. It took a ton of willpower and perseverance to finish and not stop. But every time I crossed the finish line, I got the greatest satisfaction in knowing that, once again, I had the strength and courage to push myself and finish the race.

My beloved Cleveland Browns just absolutely laid the smack down on the Cincinnati Bengals … 51-45, 554 yards of total offense, 216 rushing yards by Jamal Lewis, 5 touchdown passes by Derek Anderson (a franchise record), no sacks allowed by the offensive line, and pure heart demonstrated by the whole team.

I’ve been bragging for years (sarcastically, usually) about how the Browns’ time time has come … and this past week, I really stepped up the rhetoric, claiming that they were going to start their Super Bowl run by stomping the local favorite here in Cincinnati. But I didn’t expect to actually see it happen.

I guess this’ll be a fun week!

After four days of close priorities and careful energy-rationing, I think I’m finally ready to post something about the collossal, insurmountable beast that was the Great Wall Marathon. Thanks for your patience.

As you probably know, my training for this marathon really went south in the last two months, leaving me very unprepared for the big race. I had only run about once per week, I had to battle an assortment of injuries and illnesses, and I fell and messed up both shins and my neck during my last workout. As a result, I really had to crack down and focus in the few remaining days, going for daily massages, being extremely careful about my rest and diet, and doing a lot of research online about marathon training and strategy.

The travel to Beijing went off without a hitch … I arrived there two days early and met Travis, another WorldTeach teacher from Hunan. We chilled for a day then met up with fellow volunteers Kate, Heidi, Natalie, Kathryn, and our lone fan, Rick. We had a good meal the night before the race then went to bed as early as we could to prepare for our 1:15am wakeup. Yep … we had to catch a three hour shuttle out to the Great Wall in time for the early morning start!

Despite the obstacles, I felt great on race day. I am, by nature, a performer … and my many years of test-taking, quasi-leadership roles, classroom teaching, and generally flying-by-the-seat-of-my-pants had prepared me well for the build-up to a “big day”. I was mentally prepared, emotionally excited, physically rested, and spiritually challenged.

For the first eight miles, I ran with Kate, the other WorldTeach volunteer running the full marathon (the others were in the half marathon). The first three miles were a steady uphill climb … so we took it fairly slow, rising up the mountainside at about a 10 or 11 minute pace. We walked on the really steep parts and generally enjoyed the beautiful scenery and each other’s company. Kate was a lovely person to run with!

At mile 3, we hit the Great Wall … and the whole race turned into a big bottleneck. The two-mile section that we would be running (twice) was rather steep, narrow, and even dangerous at parts, so for the first time through we basically walked each of the thousands of stairs. It was a little rough on my knees, as we had to go very slow up and down the stairs (and I have relatively long legs), but I managed to get through it ok.

Two miles later, we finished the first loop of the course and passed by the start/finish line. We looked around for Rick, our lone fan, but didn’t see him as we passed the crowds. I was really disappointed … Rick was supposed to catch a public bus up to the town where we were running to see us, but he apparantly didn’t make it. As we ran out onto the road, however, we saw him … and he quickly snapped a few photos of Kate and I running and spilling drink all over ourselves. I’m sure I’ll get those photos eventually …

The next three miles were pretty flat. We ran out of the town and to some nearby villages, passing many locals who excitedly shouted “Hello” and “Jia You” (”add oil”, the typical Chinese sports cheer) as we passed. It was fun talking to them as we ran by, and their encouragement at every turn really helped a lot!

The course itself was well-marked, manned by friendly middle school students, and stocked at regular intervals with water, wet sponges, electrolytes, and medical staff. It was well organized … I was even able to send some energy bars and electrolytes ahead to specific parts of the course for some much-needed nutrition!

But soon I was able to see how the wall had taken its toll on my body … though my spirits were high and my energy even higher, my left knee began to ache steadily with each step. I could tell that it wasn’t going to go away … so by the time we got to mile eight I simply had to take a break. I waved goodbye to Kate as she disappeared into the distance then grabbed a drink and took a walk.

For the next three or four miles, I alternated jogging and walking, doing my best to keep going while trying to protect my knee as much as possible. I tried to distract myself with the dozens of interesting people I was meeting in the race … but lurking beneath everything was the steadily increasing pain in my knee. In reality, I had never run more than ten consecutive miles in my life, so I really had no idea what was ahead of me.

At about mile 12, I had to stop jogging … possibly for good. My knee was really in pain, and if I wanted to have any chance of finishing this race, I couldn’t jolt it around any more. So I walked. I met several very interesting people along the way who were walking too … one housewife from California strolled across the halfway point (13.1 miles) with me as we chatted.

Then I got to the top of a long hill, and I decided to use my momentum to jog down it as lightly as possible. That was a bad idea. By the time I got to the bottom of the hill, I found that my left knee was utterly useless … I couldn’t even stand on it! I was in so much pain, and the nearest medical station was, from my memory, about half a mile away. So I found a patch of shade and sat down, hoping for a miracle.

A passing runner noticed my pain and asked if I needed some aspirin, while another actually had a small tube of Ben Gay sports cream that she offered to me. I graciously accepted both and found that these miraculous western medicines gave new life to my knee, allowing me to walk to the next pit stop!

When I arrived, however, I found that the doctor was not in. The ambulance had taken another injured runner to the start and hadn’t returned in over 20 minutes. I was hoping to get some advice and maybe a wrap for my knee, but after waiting for another fifteen minutes, I decided to just go on my merry way. The next medical station was about two or three miles away, and to be honest, I didn’t want someone telling me to stop.

So I walked. And walked. And walked. When the knee hurt too bad, I started skipping on my right foot. After a while, I actually developed a new mode of transportation … it went something like this:

1. Step with the left foot.
2. Step with the right foot.
3. Step with the left foot.
4. Hop twice with the right foot.
5. Repeat.

Eventually, my right ankle started hurting from the extra toll of this new walk/skip strategy. So by the time I got to the next medical station, I had yet another thing to complain about. I took one look at the doctor’s gentle and caring eyes, however, and I knew what I had to say …

“How far to the wall?” I asked.

Yep, I didn’t tell him that I was hurt. I could tell, you see, that he was the type of person that would force me to stop and call it quits … so I mustered up everything I had and acted like nothing was wrong. He couldn’t really answer my question, so I grabbed some water and went hobbling off into the distance.

Some simple math, however, told me that I wouldn’t hit the wall again until mile 21. That meant another 5-6 miles of walking on a bad knee and bum ankle … and to make matters worse, I knew that they closed the wall at the six hour mark. So I had to finish those 5-6 miles in about two hours or I would be forced to stop the race!

I dug in … and to make a long story short, I did it! I made back to the wall at about 5 hours and 30 minutes, full of energy but with little strength left in my legs. I was greeted enthusiastically by my friends, who had already finished the half-marathon … but I hurridly explained to them that I still had five miles to go and I needed some medical attention!

So Rick and I went into the medical tent and I asked them to wrap up my knee and my ankle. If I could just get some more support, I told them, I thought I could finish the race. So they wrapped me up … and after a funny little photoshoot with Rick, I went on my way.

The next two miles were absolutely brutal. It was the same stretch of the Great Wall that I had climbed at the beginning of the race, but in reverse … and at the get-go, I was greeted with a long never-ending flight of stone stairs. It was literally over a thousand of them … straight up! So I pushed the pain into the back of my mind and got into a rhythm, pushing myself up each stair as methodically as I could.

I found, throughout these two miles, that I was actually one of the fastest climbers on the wall. Even with my injuries, I passed dozens and dozens of people, many of whom were resting wearily or literally crawling on their hands and knees up the steep stairs. A few people needed medical attention, and I was able to use my limited Mandarin to communicate with the locals and help them to get what they needed.

So once I got into a rhythm, going up was actually pretty easy for me, especially if I used my arms to push down on my knees as I climbed. But going down … now that was the hard part. It hurt so bad to descend, either on stairs or on an incline, that I was forced to be creative. Sometimes I sat and scootched down the steep stairs, sometimes I leaned heavily on the walls, and eventually I figured out that the best way was to simply walk backwards as gingerly as possible. So I did!

I exited the two mile stretch of wall at about 6 hours and 45 minutes, fueled by momentum and bent on getting to the finish line. But there was one big obstacle in the way … that three-mile hill that Kate and I went up at the beginning of the race. Only this time, it was backwards … and I already knew how badly it hurt to go downhill!

To make matters worse, I knew that they closed the race at the eight hour mark. So I essentially had an hour and fifteen minutes to somehow get three miles downhill with no ankle and no knee. I wasn’t sure how it was going to happen, but I knew it would … so I re-wrapped both appendages, said a quick prayer, did some stretches, popped in my headphones, and set out.

To my surprise, I was able to find a pace and stride that barely hurt … it was slow, but I was pretty sure that it would work! So I turned up the music and sang along. And time after time, I was amazed by the appropriateness of the songs that came onto my iPod.

I’m not afraid to fall
It means I climbed up high
To fall is not to fail
You fail when you don’t try …

[Get Up, by Superchick]

I sang along at the top of my lungs as I walked, enjoying the fresh mountain air and the freedom that I felt. All of the locals cracked up as I passed, and I think I actually scared some of the other runners as they descended the hill past me.

You’re on the verge of a miracle, just standing there
You’re on the verge of a miracle, just waiting to be believed in
Open your eyes and see … you’re on the verge of a miracle …

[Verge of a Miracle, by Rich Mullins]

Then, as I neared the bottom of the hill, the perfect song came on:

The sun has gone down and the moon has come up
And long ago somebody left with the cup
But he’s driving, and striving, and hugging the turns
And thinking of someone for whom he still burns
He’s going the distance …

[Going the Distance, by Cake]

Indeed. And at seven hours, fourty one minutes, and thirty seconds, I crossed the finish line.

• Four hours and eighteen minutes after the winner.
• 39th out of 39 finishers in my age group.
• 267th out of 274 male finishers.
• 385th out of 397 total finishers.

But my goal wasn’t to win.
My goal was to finish.
And I dominated that goal!

[all photos via GWM]