"For me, running is a lifestyle and an art. I'm more interested in the magic of it than the mechanics."
Lorraine Moller, four-time New Zealand Olympian
I like the magic of running, too...not that I'm an Olympian. Although I guess that's what's so awesome about running, you don't have to be an Olympian, or an Elite, to enjoy the magic.
Tuesday
Saturday
Coach Grim
Volleyball was my Fall sport in high school. I had a decent overhand serve, but probably nothing else. Still, I was a good enough volleyball player to ride the varsity bench already my sophomore year. And it was my own. Entering high school is rough enough. Entering high school as the younger sister of a popular varsity cross country and track runner and future prom queen is difficult. My sister was athletic, graceful, and well liked. I wanted to be like her. But fate had other ideas. You see, when you get right down to it, you really can't be anyone but yourself. And myself was not Rachel. Not a fast runner, I found that I was decent at volleyball and the throwing events in track and field so I focused on those. I excelled at the sciences and music while my sister had carved her path in visual art and the languages. We had an overlapping circle of friends but otherwise did our own thing. Okay, she did her own thing and I did a mixture of my own thing with some copy-catting of my older sister thrown in for good measure. The problem was that I wasn't enjoying volleyball. Excitement from making the varsity team quickly turned into disappointment as I sat on the bench game after game after game after...you get the point. Entering junior year, I again tried out for the volleyball team because that's what I had done before, it's who I was as a high school student. But deep down I didn't want to be on the team, I just wasn't ready to admit that to myself. I was, however, ready to boldly say, "If I don't make volleyball this year, I'm joining cross country." I was feeling ballsy in the moment, and didn't think I'd actually be cut from the team. But then the fateful day came and my name wasn't on the list.
The only thing I remember about telling my parents my decision to join cross country, was my mom saying with a chuckle, "I thought we were done with standing in the cold and rain to watch a cross country race." I don't remember much of the coach's response either, but based on his personality it was probably something along the lines of "Good!" followed by some instructions of when we were practicing and what distance we were running that day. There was no fanfare, not that I expected it, but what I didn't expect was the seemless transition to becoming a member of the team. It helped that I knew the runners from both track as well as classes. Still, they didn't bat an eye, they didn't feel like the second choice. It was simply, "That stinks you didn't make volleyball. Welcome to our team." And that was it. Acceptance.
What made my high school experience were the sports of cross country and track and field as well as the science classes I took. At the center of all of that was my coach and teacher, Dave Grim. He was, and still is, a man of few words and an enormous heart. Although I've told him the difference he made in my life, I'm not sure he quite believes what a positive influence he has on his students and athletes. I was fortunate enough to have him for general Biology and Chemistry, as well as for advanced Chemistry. My senior year I also was a student worker in his lab. A couple of years ago my mom asked what or who was the strongest influence in my life to choose a career in the sciences. Without hesitating I responded, "Mr. Grim." He is the type of teacher who makes himself available to his students. If I had questions I asked during class, or stayed after school, or even, at least once, called his house in the evening. He wants his students to do well. And, as a result, I wanted to do well for him.
Grim's teaching habits translated into cross country and track as well. One of the things I most appreciate about him is how he only asked us to do our best. Not once did he compare my running to my sister's running, or anyone else's for that matter. I remember one particular practice, the varsity team was running 9 miles, while the open team was running less. I decided to run the full 9 with my friend, Julie. Probably not that shocking that I still make rash running decisions like that today. Anyway, when we made it back I was excited to tell Grim what I had accomplished. His reaction was not what I expected. He basically told me I should not have done that. The next day when my hips were tight and hurting, he commented that it was because I should have not run that distance without working up to it first. What I didn't understand at the time was that his response wasn't because he didn't want me to run longer distances, but because he recognized the value of proper training and preparation. He wanted me to run my best, not risk injury trying to prove a point.
The running (haha, pun intended) joke was that Mr. Grim implanted a "Grim Chip" into all of us that gave us this desire to run. It must have worked because many of my teammates are still runners. What I'm realizing now is that he instilled in us is so much more than a love of running. It's about being part of something...part of a team, a family. Working towards a goal to not only achieve that goal but to give absolutely our best, leaving it all on the field on race day. He taught us to celebrate our successes, but not to rest on our laurels. By the same right, he reminded us not to dwell on shortcomings or our perceived failures, but to get up and get back to work. Did he have his star athletes? Absolutely. Did he honor each of us for our contributions and individual strengths? You better believe it. At the end of each cross country and track season, Grim would give us a highlights summary. He would go through the meets, remembering who PRed in what event and where we stood in the school rankings. He would distribute printouts with those records and rankings. He would also give us each a form talking about our strengths and what we needed to work on (and how) to improve for the next season. His level of commitment to truly caring for his athletes earned him induction into the State's Coaching Hall of Fame. That's no small feat.
In order to celebrate Mr. Grim and his 30+ years of continued teaching and coaching, my high school organized a mile race to raise funds and establish a student athlete scholarship in his name. I had the honor of running, even coming in second among the women in my age group with an 8:12.00 mile. Prior to the race I posted this, which sums up the impact Mr. Grim has had in my life:
The only thing I remember about telling my parents my decision to join cross country, was my mom saying with a chuckle, "I thought we were done with standing in the cold and rain to watch a cross country race." I don't remember much of the coach's response either, but based on his personality it was probably something along the lines of "Good!" followed by some instructions of when we were practicing and what distance we were running that day. There was no fanfare, not that I expected it, but what I didn't expect was the seemless transition to becoming a member of the team. It helped that I knew the runners from both track as well as classes. Still, they didn't bat an eye, they didn't feel like the second choice. It was simply, "That stinks you didn't make volleyball. Welcome to our team." And that was it. Acceptance.
What made my high school experience were the sports of cross country and track and field as well as the science classes I took. At the center of all of that was my coach and teacher, Dave Grim. He was, and still is, a man of few words and an enormous heart. Although I've told him the difference he made in my life, I'm not sure he quite believes what a positive influence he has on his students and athletes. I was fortunate enough to have him for general Biology and Chemistry, as well as for advanced Chemistry. My senior year I also was a student worker in his lab. A couple of years ago my mom asked what or who was the strongest influence in my life to choose a career in the sciences. Without hesitating I responded, "Mr. Grim." He is the type of teacher who makes himself available to his students. If I had questions I asked during class, or stayed after school, or even, at least once, called his house in the evening. He wants his students to do well. And, as a result, I wanted to do well for him.
Grim's teaching habits translated into cross country and track as well. One of the things I most appreciate about him is how he only asked us to do our best. Not once did he compare my running to my sister's running, or anyone else's for that matter. I remember one particular practice, the varsity team was running 9 miles, while the open team was running less. I decided to run the full 9 with my friend, Julie. Probably not that shocking that I still make rash running decisions like that today. Anyway, when we made it back I was excited to tell Grim what I had accomplished. His reaction was not what I expected. He basically told me I should not have done that. The next day when my hips were tight and hurting, he commented that it was because I should have not run that distance without working up to it first. What I didn't understand at the time was that his response wasn't because he didn't want me to run longer distances, but because he recognized the value of proper training and preparation. He wanted me to run my best, not risk injury trying to prove a point.
The running (haha, pun intended) joke was that Mr. Grim implanted a "Grim Chip" into all of us that gave us this desire to run. It must have worked because many of my teammates are still runners. What I'm realizing now is that he instilled in us is so much more than a love of running. It's about being part of something...part of a team, a family. Working towards a goal to not only achieve that goal but to give absolutely our best, leaving it all on the field on race day. He taught us to celebrate our successes, but not to rest on our laurels. By the same right, he reminded us not to dwell on shortcomings or our perceived failures, but to get up and get back to work. Did he have his star athletes? Absolutely. Did he honor each of us for our contributions and individual strengths? You better believe it. At the end of each cross country and track season, Grim would give us a highlights summary. He would go through the meets, remembering who PRed in what event and where we stood in the school rankings. He would distribute printouts with those records and rankings. He would also give us each a form talking about our strengths and what we needed to work on (and how) to improve for the next season. His level of commitment to truly caring for his athletes earned him induction into the State's Coaching Hall of Fame. That's no small feat.
In order to celebrate Mr. Grim and his 30+ years of continued teaching and coaching, my high school organized a mile race to raise funds and establish a student athlete scholarship in his name. I had the honor of running, even coming in second among the women in my age group with an 8:12.00 mile. Prior to the race I posted this, which sums up the impact Mr. Grim has had in my life:
Excited to celebrate my teacher and coach at this evening's Inaugural Grim Mile. This is the man who instilled in me not only a love of science, but also the infamous running "Grim Chip". I chose a science field for my career and I'm still running today! I have two small but sincere words for Dave Grim.
Thank you!Thank you, indeed, from the bottom of my heart to the bottom of my soles.
Monday
The Challenge
Most times, when a non-runner or non-marathoner hears that I've finished two marathons and am preparing for my third (and hopefully fourth), the comment I hear is "I could never do that". But I'm here to say that running a marathon is easy. Life is what's hard.
In and around my running adventures are my life adventures. And those adventures are much more muddied, difficult, and, at times, seemingly insurmountable than training for a race is. Preparing for a race is relatively straight forward. Training plans are easily found with just a few mouse clicks. Schedules are mapped out, running shoes professionally fit, and plenty of advice freely given. Barring injury, preparing for and running a race is an attainable goal.
But where are my instructions for life? Where is the training plan that says, "Do this and that result will occur"? Where is the satisfaction when my well thought-out planning actually comes to fruition? Where is the online help that says, "I've walked this exact path before, parented these exact children, hoped for these same things...and this is the secret"?
With running, I have a general idea as to what I'm doing. Life? Pfft...no clue.
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