Welcome to the Monkey House

November 24, 2019

I wandered deep into Topanga on Saturday and emerged, at days end, a different person.…

Black Smoke. White Smoke.

November 18, 2019

Two key questions: are the Santa Ana’s blowing and what color is the smoke? If…

Fret Not

November 3, 2019

Was at an orchestra concert the other day watching my favorite cellist and noticed that…

Thirteen

October 24, 2019

Backpack half zipped on the kitchen table,Beat up paperback Fahrenheit 451 in the side pocket,Simpsons…

Deadicated 6.16.18

June 25, 2018

FADE IN Citi Field.  General Admission. Three rows back from the stage. The crowd dances,…

Divine Intervention

June 20, 2018

So here I am driving down the road, reeling from an earlier conversation, trying to…

Luggage or leverage?

June 3, 2018

One step back…WTF? These freaking voices in my head… So, the other day, I am…

Year of the Rabbit

May 1, 2018

"What year?" Vince asks. "1963." I say with a certain amount of pride. "Huh, year…

Oh, my…

April 15, 2018

Went to Supercuts on Saturday: to the usual one over on 18th and Wilshire.  All…

Learning to fly

March 18, 2018

  Took flight again today at Pranayama Breathe Class on a Sunday afternoon. I visited…

Squeak!

February 24, 2018

Squeak. Step. Squeak. Step. Squeak. Pause. Stop. Pause. Step. Squeak. Humph… My favorite shoes are…

#leftearrightear

February 14, 2018

  FADE IN. EXT: DAD comes into focus, a big guy, burley, mid-thirties, Oklahoma t-shirt,…

Have and Have Nots

February 6, 2018

I am struggling a bit.   A few days ago I woke up pre-dawn, made a…

I don’t know, it just

January 15, 2018

drives me crazy that people don’t really greet each other anymore. I’m not sure why…

Turn the tables

August 31, 2017

I have a coach that helps me navigate the training regime for all of these…

385 in dog years…

August 6, 2017

I am getting old. I’m almost 385 in dog years. Humph… The other day I…

And he lives in Nashville. Went there recently to reconnect and discovered a whole new…

Owling

July 24, 2017

Went owling with Vince the other night. We have a big tree in the backyard…

Coco and Adele

July 23, 2017

One afternoon in the Marais (how cool is that for an opening line?) Teri and…

Merci Madame Killelay

July 19, 2017

One of my favorite teachers, Madame Killlelay, taught high school French. I think she tops…

Nice is nice (PG13)

July 13, 2017

Was a hot day in Nice. I had some down time before the flight back…

Comrades in arms…

July 10, 2017

And legs. And mind, body and spirit. Just whisper “Kowies, Fields, Bothas, Inchanga or Polly…

Triple death by…

July 7, 2017

Seriously? It’s Saturday morning. I mean what kind of message is that suppose to send…

Wump-Wump-Wump

July 6, 2017

Thursday afternoon Dad via text: “send a pic people here want to see” Dad’s internal…

La Decima

July 5, 2017

He’s a god, a modern day god, like Zeus with a tennis racket. And we…

The other day Adele ran a cross-country race as a representative of year five for Nelson Central here in NZ. Actually, all of the year five kids from a half dozen schools around town showed up to a wet, muddy, soggy field on a crisp autumn afternoon. They came to compete. They came to win.

In typical New Zealand fashion the entire event felt like it was thrown together last minute. It was almost as if one of the teachers called a few other teachers and said, “Right, thinking about cross country this Thursday in the park, want to give it a go?” To which the rest of them said, “Suppose so, what can we bring?” To which the teacher replied, “Oh, I’ve got a watch with a second hand we can use, can you bring the whistle? And let’s say all the kids in years five and six? We’ll go about 2K give or take, probably on an out and back, we’ll throw in the hill, top finishers go to Regionals.” Done deal.

In the States something like this would have been organized to death. For months on end several team leaders from each school would hold committee meetings that would then splinter off in to sub-committees to plan fund-raisers to pay lawyers to assess liability issues and weigh in on any threat of potential lawsuit or government intervention. Gym teachers would hold conferences to carefully plan ever detail of the race and map every inch of the coarse to make sure it complied with some obscure Elementary School cross country standard.

Parents would jockey for pole position at the finish line and orchestrate cheering sections with school banners and marching bands. Kids would get all decked out in new Nikes that match new school running uniforms created just for the event. An entire curriculum would be put together to properly train kids to assess running skills and weed out any weak links: the slower ones would be relegated to after school “art classes” to work on the banners, the faster ones would go into seclusion where they would “train” for weeks at the expense of everything else. There would be an assembly, maybe a “wear your uniform to school day”, and the PTA would work around the clock to make sure that everyone went home with a medal. After all, we are all winners.

TWEET! The whistle blows! Seventy or so year five girls leap forward and come flying down a long, grassy straightaway. The wide horizontal line begins to form a V, kind of like a flock of birds: the leaders begin to pull away and stragglers are left behind.

By the time they pass our section they are covered in mud, breathing hard and running all out. The classmates and parents go wild. The racers pick up the pace.

It is beautiful to watch. The natural runners just glide across the muck and mire, legs turning over like clockwork, arms pumping, with a slight lean forward, there’s a quick glance around to check the competition. Adele is in the front pack: in the lead group of Nelson Central runners. She is clearly in her element.

Most of the 2K run is up and down a single track on the backside of a local “hill” so the kids are out of sight for a while. When they come back down into view, Adele is the third yellow shirt to come around the corner, about a dozen kids back from the lead. She is very intense and very, very focused.

The kids are covered in mud, some are bleeding, cut and scrapped up from falling, others can barely catch a breath. What amazes me is that no one steps in to help and none of the kids stop. Every kid finishes: on their own: to the cheers of their classmates, parents and teachers. The cheers for the last are as great as those for the first. There is a certain degree of honor in sport: even at this young age.

By the final turn Adele is the second yellow shirt and well ahead of the main field. As the second fastest year five girl in Nelson Central she earns a spot to represent her school at Regionals in a week and a half – as the fastest cross country runner in the family she earns something even more. She earns the title of “runner” to go along with “writer, artist, pianist, mathematician, tell of jokes, competitor, triathlete, gymnast, and tennis star” just to name a few.

Once again we all see her in a whole new light…

Tagged with:
 

Comments are closed.

Set your Twitter account name in your settings to use the TwitterBar Section.
PageLines