If there had been any doubt in my mind that I needed to have surgery on my medial meniscus, it was laid to rest while trying to sleep Friday night. As much as I like camping out, I could not find a comfortable position for my knee and managed on 30 minutes of sleep before waking in pain as I unconsciously changed positions. I gave up around 6 a.m. and headed for the showers. When I returned, I quietly began taking down my tent, but Marie woke and prepared for her morning run. I decided on a hike along the nature trail and managed 45 minutes of reasonably pain-free walking once the knee loosened up. By the time I returned to the camp site, Eric had taken down his tent and was ready to roll.
We hit Bob Evans for breakfast and bought the morning paper to see the results of yesterday’s track races. The Indians had lost again and that had me fuming, but what could you do? Two years in a row, they’ve had great starts and been in first place through June only to be decimated by injuries to key players and take a swoon. I would think someone’s job is on the line with the way players are falling since conditioning is such an important part of professional sports…and it would appear that there is a disconnect somewhere.
I had another cup of coffee and was adding my Equal when Eric began slapping his hand on his inner arm, like a junkie preparing to shoot up.
“Time for the morning fix?” he asked, quite amused with himself. Actually, I found it pretty funny, too.
We finished and drove to Jesse Owens Stadium on the campus of Ohio State in time to see the last half of the Division III (small schools) meet. We’d be staying for Division I and II, as well, spending about 6 hours inside the stadium watching some of the country’s finest high school athletes compete. For me, it doesn’t get any better. Eric had not been back since 1988 when he’d won the 1600, but Marie had been there one year earlier as a contestant and was quite happy to just be watching.
As I do each year, I was witness to some fabulous races full of drama and excitement. We saw the fastest time in the country turned in by an athlete from Berea in the 300-meter low hurdles, as well as a 17’2” pole vault and an 8:55 3200 meter run…both good enough to break state records. Ohio is one of the most competitive states in the country in track and field each year and we were being treated to the best.
We were in the car and headed home around 8 p.m. when Marie started questioning how I came to be so interested in coaching.
I shared with her my own high school running career…or the lack thereof…something I blame partially on a coach disinterested in going out of his way to encourage individual athletes or enhance the program. In fact, I spent my senior year watching that same coach destroy a team and one of the state’s premier runners by keeping him off the team because he wouldn’t conform to the coach’s idea of how long his hair should be. It complied with school policy…but not the coach’s…and he kept my friend from running his senior year, which probably cost him some extremely valuable running scholarships.
“I vowed that someday I’d help high school runners reach the potential that I was sure was inside of me, but lay dormant,” I said. “I could have been pretty good, but I needed someone to take an interest. That’s what I did with Eric and that was the beginning. I’ve been doing it ever since and there is no greater satisfaction than watching runners like him…and you…achieve your dreams on…and off…the track. I know they don’t get paid for it, but it’s what I think any coach should be doing that’s working with high school athletes. If you’re in it for the paycheck…get out. Young athletes deserve more,” I concluded.
We didn’t get home until around 10 p.m. and by the time I’d unloaded the car and put away the camping gear, I was too exhausted to keep my eyes open. The workouts suffered over the past two days…but the memories will last a lifetime.
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