songs of experience

Its time for a little game of “Truth or Dare.” Do you remember playing this in Junior High? We used to play it on road trips at UNC when I was coaching, but we created a silly version called “truth or truth” because there weren’t many interesting dares available in a 14-passenger van (clean ones, anyway). In the authoritative role of coach, I was seldom free to say what I really thought or felt. It’s the same thing with being a parent. I only share what my kids are mature enough to receive.

So, when I was driving sarah jane home from middle school yesterday and told her that my former athlete, Blake Russell (someone she actually knew, someone who babysat for her and whose picture is in our photo albums) won cross-country nationals … my 12 year-old said, “Does that make you jea … er, uh … proud?” She was about to say “jealous.” She, too, was checking her words - maybe sharing only what her mother is mature enough to receive. “Heck yes, I’m proud!” I said and then went on to praise Blake’s work ethic, and her focus, and how she was one of the few girls I coached who truly became a student of the sport, etc. I glanced in the rearview mirror to see a slight smile - maybe even a sneaky smile - break across her face. “That’s great,” she said. Safe.

I should have told Sarah Jane the truth. I am both proud AND jealous. When I first started coaching Blake I thought of her as simply the pretty girl on the team, the walk-on with great clothes and perfect hair. I didn’t see her at all. I missed the essentials. I think it was easier for me (lazy) to classify her as a type and then carry on with the business of coaching the serious, scholarship athletes. She was the last person I thought would go on to become a professional runner …

… but then something changed - in me as a coach? in Blake as a runner? I will never forget the day we sat down on the curb outside of a hotel room the night before a meet. The rest of the team was hanging out, watching TV, taking their time getting dressed for dinner. Blake never took that long to get ready (yet another sign I missed - no vanity there) so we were the only two outside. She asked me point-blank, almost saying I-dare-you-to-tell-me, “What can I do to get better?” Besides the work-outs and the morning runs and lifting and everything else she did exactly as I prescribed (she even bought and ate broccoli!), Blake wanted to know what more she could do. Her appetite for improvement was voracious. I advised her to totally immerse herself in the world of running - to read everything she could get her hands on and to commit herself - mind, body, and soul - to becoming a runner, not just someone who runs.

After that, Blake pr’d every race out. She took the reigns of her own running destiny and never looked back. It was a joy to behold!! Now, here’s the hard part to tell … the truth or truth part … as my career was winding down, Blake’s was taking off (rocketing!) and I saw myself being replaced. Just like moms and daughters. It took me a few years to face this ugliness in myself and its difficult to write now, but I don’t want this blog to be another area where I have to keep an authoritative distance. If I take myself out of the equation (the way Jesus would do, yes?) I feel nothing but great love and pride in Blake’s success (I may be her biggest fan). My human side, however, the one my sarah jane knows oh-so-well, did feel that twinge of jealousy … that fear of replacement … maybe even the taste of death.