Once again an athlete

Yesterday I finished my 28th half marathon.  It had been two years.  A dislocated shoulder last July put me out of commission for a while, and it's taken some time to get back into gear, and to get enough base miles to even consider such an event.  Although it was the slowest of my 28 at that distance, I was able to reclaim the part of me that I call an "athlete."  And at age 63, being an athlete is something that's still vitally important to me; it's an enduring and cherished part of my self-image.

In the past ten days, I had only done two longer training runs--one of 10 miles, and another of 8.  And based on how I felt in those runs, I wasn't at all sure that I could finish a 13.1 mile jaunt.  The half marathon distance is an interesting challenge: difficult but hardly impossible.  But I ran a very smart race, which helped, and I finished 8 minutes faster than my very modest goal.  I had the good sense to run mostly for the enjoyment and the challenge, and not be obsessed by the clock.  I even encountered a 29-year-old woman, a former student, who felt that she would be embarrassed if she finished behind this old geezer.  I happened to catch up with her at mile 12; we talked for a while as we ran in tandem toward the finish line; and then, for the sake of her ego, I let her forge ahead and "beat" me by 8 seconds.  It didn't matter to me anymore--I was already once again a winner.

There are a lot of people my age who are totally incapable of even considering such a task, for a variety of reasons.  Some of them can barely walk out the door.  If I were in their shoes, I don't know how I would manage.  The thought of being incapacitated in any way scares the daylights out of me.  As I approach 22,000 career miles, I can only be grateful that I can still do this.  Hey--when's the next race?

No longer ruled by hormones

Over the last couple of years, I have been in the process of re-connecting with people from my past: old teachers, old friends, and old romances.  It's been an interesting experience.  Most whom I contact are quite pleased to hear from me; a few others, not so much.  But overall, it's been worth the hassle.

The "romances" part has probably been the most meaningful, and vexing.  For several of these people, I feel a need to apologize for my actions.  (A few of them have been impossible to locate, and in a couple of semi-embarrassing cases, I'm not even sure of their names!  Oh my.)  When you're in your 20s (time to pull out a cliche) one's brain seems to be somewhere else than in your head.  The "raging hormone" idea is no less true for me than it is for others.  I can't say that I did anything horrific during those wacky years, but I certainly did things that are not a source of immense pride.

Now that I legally qualify for collecting Social Security, I sort of enjoy not being so ruled by my hormones.  Although those were very exciting years, the choices that I make now driven by other motives and other forces.  As a result, life has become a little less crazy.  It's an odd thing to be thankful for, but it feels that way to me.

Missing the 2014 Think-Off

Well, it's a long story, and one that I don't truly understand--but suffice it to say that I have been unable to access this blog for more than six months.  And now, suddenly, I can!  It's all about Google mail and administrative privileges, but let's just foggetaboutit!

I'll have to catch up in bits and pieces.  One quick update involves the 2014 version of the Great American Think-Off.  Since in 2013, I was a finalist in this event (see a previous posting), I was optimistic-bordering-on-cocky that I would make it again.  But, there are hundreds of entrants, and only four are selected.  So I should have been ready for disappointment.  Anyway, this year's topic was: "Love or fear: Which motivates us more?"  As soon as I saw the topic announcement, I thought, this is a no-brainer.  Clearly, when it comes to motivation, fear trumps love, sorry to say.  If you want to read the "winning" essays, just go to think-off.org.  They are all pretty good.  (And, as hard as it is for me to believe, one of the two "love" essays was the eventual winner!)

Since I didn't get an auditorium of readers/listeners in New York Mills, MN, I will at least post my entry here for my thousands of loyal readers from Boston to Bangkok:
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Let’s hear it for fear!

Fear may not be the most noble or pleasant human emotion, but boy can it motivate.  And really, in so many ways, it has served the species well.  Fear can keep a curious 5-year-old from making a return visit to a scorching hot stove.  It deters most of us from having three hot fudge sundaes for dessert every night.  It can move an entire nation to take off its shoes before boarding an airplane.  It certainly keeps me off the edge of any sixty-story buildings.  It can even finally transform the lives of those who become “scared straight.”

Of course, there is a weird and irrational side to fear.  Some have a clinical fear of bugs, or clowns, or the number 13.  A website called The Phobia List includes 539 different fears, including alektorophobia (fear of chickens) ambulophobia (fear of walking), blennophobia (fear of slime), carnophobia (fear of meat), geronotophobia (fear of old people), barophobia (fear of gravity), and omphalophobia (fear of belly buttons).  Fortunately, given my situation, I have yet to be afflicted by logizomechanophobia (fear of computers), lalophobia (fear of speaking), or pogonophobia (fear of beards).  But, there’s still time!

On a more somber note, we often direct our fears to those whose skin color, or religion, or sexual orientation, or national origin is not the same as ours; in such cases, fear and distrust can become a toxic mix.  In 1942, motivated by the lingering fear of Pearl Harbor, we told more than 100,000 Japanese-Americans that they had 48 hours to leave their homes and go to internment camps.  Never mind that during the entire war only ten U.S. citizens were convicted of spying for Japan, and all were Caucasian.  More recently, the nation of Uganda made homosexuality a crime punishable by life imprisonment.  The natural question becomes, what in the world are these people afraid of?  As ugly and irrational as fear can be, it doesn’t change its motivational nature.  If anything, it only underscores the power of fear to do all manner of things—some quite sensible, some quite odd, and others quite disturbing. 

Even love itself is grounded in fear—in particular, the fear of isolation.  You could say that online dating services are all about the beauty of love and romance, but lurking underneath is the nagging anxiety that you might spend your life alone, without a companion.  And there is the fear of rejection as well.  When I was in 6^th grade, I liked a girl named Sandy.  Now at the age of twelve, I’m not sure you can really know much about love.  But I did know that after Christmas vacation, our class was going ice skating.  The only problem: I didn’t know how to skate.  You could say I was motivated by love to learn, but the hard reality is that I was afraid Sandy would make fun of me or find it strange if I was sitting on the sidelines, just watching.  And so every morning and every afternoon for those two weeks of vacation, I trudged to the local rink to learn—wobbly ankles and all.  After those two-a-day workouts, I became a pretty decent skater, although I’m sorry to report that Sandy didn’t seem to notice anyway.  But, at least I avoided the potential embarrassment.

Fear is even an important motivator in our professional lives.  Politicians will engage in elaborate cover-ups out of fear that they will be scandalized.  In most organizations, bad news doesn’t travel upward very well because people are afraid that if the boss knows, heads will roll.  A recurring nightmare that I have is that I’m not ready for teaching a class and I’m about to make a fool of myself.  The fear that drives me is a fear of failure—the prospect of looking like a total idiot in front of 25 people.

What, then, of love?  Surely love can motivate, but not with the same intensity as fear.  If love is a warm glow radiating through our soul, fear is a swift kick in the gut.  It’s not that love can’t motivate, but fear is more primitive and runs deeper and stronger—it’s been a key to our survival.  Does that mean love is unimportant?  Not in the least.  We should never dismiss the value of love.  It may be fear that is instrumental in keeping us alive, but it’s love that makes it all worth the effort.