| DGouldthorp | member since May 2009 |
 | Senior MomentsAugust 17, 2009, 1:12 pm Senior Moments With Gouldthorp (Aug) It’s back-to-school time in my part of the world and as I wandered past the high school’s sports fields the other day, I stopped to watch the young folk going through their pre-season paces. While the marching band oom-pah-pah’d its way back and forth across the soccer field, the tennis team practiced their serves and backhands and a few of the basketball players played a quick shirts-and-skins game on the outdoor court before their coach showed up and hustled them into the gym. The monsters of the gridiron were busy banging helmets and shoulder pads, and fine-tuning their fearsome line-of-scrimmage battle taunts while keeping a close eye on the cheerleading squad. But the group that I watched with the most interest was the runners. I once heard a baseball parent scoff that running is the only sport left when all the spots on the “real” teams are taken. I strongly disagree. You see, some twenty years ago, through an odd combination of circumstances and my nodding my head at the wrong moment, I found myself as the cross-country and track coach of the high school my sons were attending. True, some of the athletes would never have made the cut in other sports; too thin, too short, knock-kneed, all-elbows, Coke-bottle glasses, not part of the in-crowd… whatever. But, they showed up every day, rain or shine, Monday through Friday at 3:30 to run because they wanted to. All that was needed was a decent pair of athletic shoes and a willingness to give this thing a try. Apart from the truly talented runners whose first- second- or third-place ribbons were the well deserved validation of their efforts and the realization of their adolescent dreams, the process of just showing up and trying was all that counted for the rest of them. Day after day, they stretched, sweated, and ran, at whatever speed, overcoming leg cramps, side-stitches and the predictable after-effects of school lunches to complete the day’s workout without stopping, for nothing more than personal pride. I quickly came to realize that most of them knew from day one that they had no chance of ever winning a race; however running a little faster than the week before, hoping to make it to the Lower State championship or simply the pride of competing in our school’s colors was motivation enough. At the end of every season, all of the runners voted for the Athlete of the Year as well as one other of their peers who, in their opinion, deserved the Sportsmanship Award. No one else got anything. I decided that for any young person to give up at least an hour and a half a day, five days a week for sixteen weeks, this simply wasn’t good enough. So I wrote down what I believed in, had it printed on parchment and, at the awards banquet, presented a framed copy to every athlete who’d made it all the way through to the end of the season. What started as a small token of recognition on my part turned out, over the years, to be huge for most of the kids – it was perhaps the only sporting “award” many of them would ever receive. Their pride in sticking it out for the whole season and refusing to quit showed on their faces as they made their way across the auditorium stage in front of their families, the school’s other athletic teams, and perhaps most importantly, their peers. I dug out an old copy the other day and upon re-reading it, was struck by how much weight management and athletic performance have in common. Both require a goal, a plan of how to get there, steps to take and mileposts to reach. Both are fueled by dedication, drive, determination, and for the occasional periods of setback and adversity, the resolve to persevere. Whether the subject is athletics or managing your weight, the two require, no, demand a commitment to stop with the excuses, the procrastination and the blame-game so that all you have to do is take a deep breath and start to walk the walk. Like the Nike ad says, just do it. It’s said that the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, so for those of you who are about to take that tentative first step as well as those of you who are well along your chosen path, please allow me to share with you what I wrote those many years ago, and still believe today: A Winner I believe that when people get to talking about sports, what they're usually talking about underneath it all is their obsession with winning; about how, when all is said and done, if you're not the winner, then by definition you're a loser. Sorry my friends, not me. My belief is that you've got to separate style from substance - sure, you can measure winning by a league table, with a stopwatch or a tape measure, but that's only what the crowd sees or what you’ll read about in tomorrow's newspaper. No matter how big the victory, it's still a momentary thing, soon lost in the busy-ness of everyday life. What counts most is what no one else can see and only you can know, and that's simply whether or not you gave it your best. The process of becoming the best isn't an easy one, but then nothing worthwhile ever is. The task demands a great deal of effort, dedication, patience and the strong belief that you can attain your goal if you work hard enough. In this context then, there is no room for second-best effort. There is only one type of effort that's acceptable and that's best effort - yours as an athlete and mine as your coach. Whether you're in a local race, a major meet, or simply competing in the everyday games called life, it has to be with the goal of going the distance and giving it your best effort. To do less is to short-change all of those around you, and ultimately the one who counts the most - yourself. It seems like just about everybody has adopted mediocrity as an acceptable standard of performance these days. Words like - good enough, if only, almost, could have, and pretty close - abound in daily conversation as well as media accounts of all that's wrong with the world today. I say ‘just about everybody’ because I know that any athlete who gives of themself totally will never tolerate mediocrity. To be mediocre is to lose. Give me the slowest runner who competes with heart any day over the elite athlete who, knowing the competition is won, coasts to victory. So toe the line with confidence, run the race to the fullest of your capabilities and accept your place at the finish line with dignity knowing that having given it your best, then in my book, you're a winner. _______________________________________________________________ Remember, it ain’t over till they screw the lid on.
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