Jogging Down Memory Lane

The other day I wrote a post about knowing when to walk away from something and letting go.  Ironically, the next day my brother sent me a text message reminding me of my “glory days” which took me right back to a past life.

If you don’t live in the Philadelphia area or follow track and field, you probably know little if anything about the Penn Relays and the truth is, you’re missing out.  While track and field is nowhere near as popular as football or baseball or many sports for that matter, this weekend runners from various parts of the world gather in Philadelphia to participate in the oldest and largest track competition held at University of Pennsylvania’s historic Franklin Field.   The Penn Relay Carnival features athletes from various skill levels including professional, college, high school and even elementary school.  For me, it was one of the most incredible opportunities of my life and I was extremely fortunate to the get the chance to run the 4x100 relay on the legendary track four times during my short lived track and field career.

There is no feeling quite like stepping out on the rust colored rubber of the track at Franklin Field.  As you wait in the paddock area, stretching and pacing all to help choke down the nerves that are swirling through your stomach, you contemplate the immensity of what lies before you.  One race is all you are guaranteed.  As the weight of that fact slowly sinks into your subconscious, sweat begins to lubricate your palms as you to pray over and over in your head, “don’t let me drop the baton”.  You gather with the three other people who also hold your team’s fate in their hands and practice the mechanical motions that you have set up to ensure the perfect passing of the hollow medal stick.  The calls of “Go”, “Stick”, or “Hand” can be heard in constant repetition as teams warm up.  One by one, they hear their names called and are placed into lines with the other competitors who will make up their heat.  Each heat takes the track leaving the one behind them anxiously awaiting the end of their race.

As you walk on the spongy surface of the track towards your allotted relay position, you try with all your might to focus on the task at hand but you can’t help but glace up at the faces of the crowd sitting in the stands and staring down just waiting to see what you will do.  Starters practice what they hope will be the perfect beginning to the race.  They crouch down to lean on their figures and envision the roar of the gun before pushing their feet off the starting blocks and launching themselves forward.  The second, third and final leg runners carefully try to remember the number of steps they need to mark off to let them know exactly when to start running so that the previous runner can begin to command them.  The shortness of the exchange zone is the number one worry running through their minds as they reassure themselves that they will do whatever it takes to make sure they have the baton within its confines.  Every runner is shaking hands, arms or legs trying to stay loose and manage the emotions raging through their bodies. 

The nerves reach an overwhelming peak as the starters are called to line.  Runners take your mark! They place their hands on the ground, fingers gently kissing the line in front of them but still firmly planted behind it and kick their feet into the blocks.  Get set!  They push themselves up preparing to pounce.  BOOM! 

Within seconds the race is over.  Some runners fall or drop the baton.  Some, despite all their careful planning, mess up a hand off and find themselves disqualified for leaving the zone.  Others just simply come up short for no better reason than the fact that another team was better.  Some are just thankful to have been there while others feel pain of the heartbreak as they walk off the track, hanging their heads in defeat.   Then there are the few teams that cross the finish line first.  These teams get an immediate thrill of hope and joy in knowing that they won but they are quickly brought back down to earth when they remember that it is not winning or losing that will determine whether they get to stand among the elite that will get another chance to race but rather it is the time on the clock that will hold their fate.   

Most people think that track is nothing more than running around in circles and wonder where the fun is in that but I say watch a 4x100 relay and I dare you to not see the fun in it.  As for how this all relates to letting go and knowing when to walk away, I am reminded that when one stage of your life ends, it leaves memories behind like bread crumbs marking the path that you took.  You can always take a jog down memory lane to remember where you’ve been, even long after you've crossed the finish line of that particular race.   

“Life is often compared to a marathon, but I think it is more like being a sprinter; long stretches of hard work punctuated by brief moments in which we are given the opportunity to perform at our best.”  - Michael Johnson

All Things End

Now I’m sure for a girl who’s been so focused on change this year, it is going to surprise you when I say that I actually don’t like change.  It’s a Nicki Minaj song that says, “I wish that I could have this moment for life” and sometimes we all wish that we could hang on to a situation or a memory or a moment.  If something is good we want to keep it but ultimately change is inevitable.  It comes whether we like it or not and sometimes we have to let go before the moment lets go of us.

I don’t like change for two reasons.  One, I have an irrational fear of the unknown.  Not knowing what to expect or what is going to happen next scares me.  Branching out, leaving the familiar and entering into something I have no idea about is terrifying.  Lately, I’ve let that fear go.  What we don’t know can be scary or it can be exciting, depending upon how we choose to see it.  I’m going to give the unknown the benefit of the doubt and hope for the best.

That leads me to my second reason, which is that I have a problem letting go.  If something is good, I want to live in that happy time or situation for as long as I can but ever chapter eventually has to end.  If you try to avoid that point, you will only end up overstaying your welcome and the moment becomes something completely different with or without your cooperation.

In order to really change, I realized early on that I would have to let go.  So I packed up my baggage and attempted to leave it all in 2010.  However, I have been holding on to more than just baggage.  Letting go isn’t just about leaving the negative things behind me but also about saying goodbye to things when it is their time to end.  I’ve realized recently, that many things in my life have reached or past their expiration dates but I’ve been too scared to say goodbye. 

Holding on to things because they once were good is nothing more than living in the past.  One moment may be over but by letting go, you’re just making way for new moments to take its place.  Eventually all things run their course and we just have to be smart enough to know when to walk away. 

“Don’t cry because it’s over.  Smile because it happened.” – Dr. Seuss

Bigger Than Tastycakes and Cheesesteaks

I’m used to the jokes and the jeers and the Philadelphia haters but I will admit that for an outsider, Philadelphia is a tough little city to understand.  It is often the forgotten middle child falling in between the great metropolis of New York City and the epicenter of our government otherwise known as Washington, DC.  It’s the city that’s accustomed to heartbreak and constantly watching Pittsburgh, our step sibling to the west, flash their black and yellow from the route of a championship parade.  This may be how the world sees us but for those who claim the city of brotherly love as home, we know otherwise.  To the inhabitants of this area, we are the prideful city constantly perched on the edge of greatness even if everyone else considers us nothing more than a stop on I-95 sandwiched between The City and The Capital City while sharing a turnpike with The City of Champions. 

The truth is that figuring out Philadelphia can be pretty black and white or better yet, red and white, green and black, or at this moment, black and orange.   The heart of a true Philadelphian is held by our sports teams.  The desire for sports greatness is bigger than our cravings for Tastycakes and cheesesteaks.  We fly and fall with the Eagles, deal with the constant mediocrity of the 76 Sixers, and put our high hopes on the shoulders of the Phillies but right now our championship dreams lie with our beloved Flyers.  Love hockey or hate hockey, if you cut anyone in this city open today, we will bleed black and orange.   

16 teams compete in the NHL playoffs; all with dreams of being the last team standing and the only team that gets to raise Lord Stanley’s Cup.  Last year, the Flyers sniffed deeply and got a whiff of glory during their unbelievable and unexpected road to the finals but in the end were left with nothing more than the bitter taste of defeat in their mouths as they watched the Chicago Blackhawks dine on greatness on Philadelphia ice.  The will is there.  The want is there.  The desire is there.  But the question still remains, is that enough to bring the cup back to Broad Street? 

You may consider Philadelphia nothing more than a city with sibling rivalry and a sports problem but I prefer to call it home.  Maybe we are living in the shadows of those around us or maybe we have the will, the want and the desire for greatness but still come up short.  Regardless of the outcome, we will move on, change our colors and get ready to cheer a new chant because as one season ends, another begins.   We possess an unyielding loyalty that even through heartbreak, hope still remains.   Win or lose, we will always live to play another day. You may think a lot of things about Philadelphia but it's ok.  Underestimate us because that is when we thrive. The world may not know how great we are but they will. 

Tonight, dressed in my black and orange, I pray for a little greatness just like I have so many times before.  It’s game seven and in Philadelphia that means win or move on to 100% devotion to baseball season. 

“Philly fans are great. Everybody complains about them being the meanest. That may be true. But, at the same time, they're great because it does get you into the game." - Michael Strahan

Serendipity

I love to read.  I love being able to step into the shoes of a character and disappear into their world.  It’s make believe at its finest.  Well last week, I picked up the book “Something Borrowed” by Emily Giffin because I really wanted to read it before the movie version came out and today as I was reading the last few chapters, I stumbled upon a passage that stood out in my head. 

The main character of this novel is Rachel, a love challenged 30 year old girl struggling to come to terms with the fact that in life and love things are hardly black and white.  At one point, when trying to deal with another bump in the road of her life, she says, “Maybe the thing to do after you roll the dice – and lose – is simply pick them up and roll them again”.  It’s an interesting thought but one I think sums up my present state pretty well. 

Right now I’m rolling the dice, again.  So far I haven't had that lucky streak but as I wait for them both to fall and reveal my magic number, I must admit that I’m excited.  I’m probably more excited than I’ve ever been in my entire life.  I have no idea what I’m doing for the first time since I can remember and no desire to stress myself out trying to formulate a plan.  Today I realized just how unbelievable that is.

Sometimes there is blissfulness in being naïve.  Not knowing everything is refreshing.  Not expecting things but just taking things as they come can lift weights off your shoulders.  We can stress or plan or prep or prepare for life but we often forget to factor in a little luck or chance which happens to be a huge part of the equation.  Rolling the dice can be scary but maybe it can bring you something truly unexpected and amazing.  Serendipity!

“Serendipity.  Look for something, find something else, and realize that what you’ve found is more suited to your needs that what you thought you were looking for.” – Lawrence Block

What's Meant To Be

Lately, so much of my life is up in the air that I am really having a hard time juggling it all and trying to put the pieces in order.  It’s almost overwhelming at times but I keep coming back to one simple idea.  Fate.

Fate, according to Wikipedia, refers to destiny, an inevitable course of events.  Basically, what is meant to be will be.  Sounds like a pretty passive way to go about your life but still it can be comforting to know that somewhere out there in the universe, there is a plan for you and we are all just trying to locate the blueprint.

Some people find it really hard to believe in the idea of “meant to be”.  To believe that this theory actually exists means that you would have to release control of your life and let the world take you where you are "meant" to go.  As a society we are often too wrapped up in the idea of needing to be in control everything that the thought of being so passive seems insane.  Despite the fact that I definitely like to take control in life, I am actually really ok releasing my life to the fates.

My life is going somewhere.  Where, I have no idea but I am going to figure all this out in a way that I wouldn’t normally go about things.  My natural reaction would be to weigh all the aspects of a decision.  Write about, pro/con list it, and basically drive everyone in my life completely crazy by over obsessing about it to the point where I even annoy myself.  You never would have guessed that, huh?  Well this time, I’m rolling the dice and letting fate take hold. 

Maybe we all ultimately make our own fate or maybe there is a force out there in the world that is pulling the strings for us but regardless I’m hoping that the right path will appear and in the end, I will find myself exactly where I am meant to be.  This may all be a bit cryptic right now but as soon as I have some more definites, you all will be the first to know.

“Fate only takes you so far, then it’s up to you to make it happen.” - Unknown

Checking Off The List

Outside, the rain teemed down from the sky like sheets of water falling from above.    Inside, the down pour seemed a million miles away but a different kind of flood filled the halls of the building.  A shiver from the chill of the air conditioning mixed with the overwhelming excitement went up my spine as I found myself immersed in a sea of orange.   A massive amount of energy filled the oversized room creating a surge of pure natural electricity so powerful that if harnessed it would light the entire city.   You could hear the beating of nervous hearts perfectly in sync with the seconds ticking off the clock as we got closer and closer to the start of the battle.  The lights dimmed.  A brief moment of anticipating silence was shattered by the overpowering roar of the crowd that echoed off the walls of the arena.  Let the hoopla began.  Welcome to playoff hockey.

Saturday, down in the series 1-0 to an underrated Buffalo Sabers team, the Philadelphia Flyers took to the ice.  I was there.   I had never been to a playoff anything and I finally had my chance.  Looks like I can cross one more thing off my list.  Oh and they won J

“Every day is a great day for hockey.” – Mario Lemeiux

Why Ask Why

Have you ever asked the question “Why Me?”  When you ask this question, is there ever really an acceptable answer to put yourself or your worries at ease?  We constantly wonder why things happen to us, especially when they are negative, but do we actually want to know the answers?

Throughout my life I’ve asked myself why millions, if not billions, of times.  In most cases, I know the why but it easier to play dumb as more of a defense mechanism because you don't want to admit to the real reasons why something happened.  Then there are the times when you are thrown much larger issues with no real clear answers making the why completely unattainable.

The other day, I witnessed a why me situation and as I struggled to help someone else find the answer to that question, I realized that knowing the why doesn’t always bring the comfort we seek.  Maybe we ask why because we don’t know what else to ask. 

We want answers because we don’t understand but we feel the need to.  If we get the answers, do they really end up making us feel better?  Knowing why something happened might give us a reason but it doesn’t erase what happened.  Sometimes those whys can't be answered and if that's the case and we never get the answer we seek, will we ever truly be able to accept the fact that the question may simply be rhetorical?

"I wish I had an answer to that because I'm tired of answering that question." -Yogi Berra