Boys with Big Sticks... a situation that rarely ends well

Today I was reflecting on how Thanksgiving feels best to me when the focus of the day is on moving my body not stuffing it. Interestingly, I don't feel deprived at all when I refrain from gorging myself on The Feast. While I was on my own for the morning Turkey Trotting extravaganza, my family seemed to share my disinterest in shoveling turkey and gravy and potatoes into their faces until their bellies felt about to explode. We spent the afternoon and evening with extended family. We ate, sure. And we were thankful. But the real enjoyment of the get-together was not centered around pigging out... it came after mealtime.

As we were getting ready to head out for a familial post-Thanksgiving dinner hike, Q-man hollers out, "Hey, Uncle B! Can we use your walking sticks?" "Sure, Q!" he replied.

I silently groaned.

Sticks become swords. Swords are weapons. Weapons are used in combat. Combat always hurts somebody. Or everybody.

But not wanting to be the family fun-sucker, I just took a deep breath, tied my shoes, and went out to the car to put on the baby carrier that I knew was going to make Miss C scream and writhe.


Really, how bad could it be? Just a half an hour...maybe they'll actually use them as walking sticks. I was trying to be optimistic.

But then they walked through the gate carrying 10-foot long poles! How can one remain optimistic when one's 6-year old and 12-year old boys are running rampant with freaking jousting poles?

Hey, everyone! Let's go for a contemplative, relaxing hike in the gorgeous Marin County woods... it'll be so peaceful. But first, let's give the boys gigantic lances!

How many times did your mom let you go on a hike 

carrying a pole twice as tall as you when you were six? 

Yeah, that's what I thought. 

That's 'cuz your mom was smart!...and maybe a little bit of a fun-sucker

See me? I'm looking the other way...

because I knew it was only a matter of time before this jedi match began. Or maybe it's kung fu?

The real question was: who would get wet or whacked first?

At some point, Big G found a lichen-encrusted tree branch.

He cast his bamboo pole aside and pretended had an Elf King Scepter...or something like that 

(actually, he just now told me it was Brom's staff from Eragon). 

Anyway, it was much better because it was a peaceful stick and not a weapon. And instead of battling his brother, he spent the rest of the hike serenely surveying the lovely surroundings.

Q-man, on the other hand, continued to spin, twirl and thrust with his pole as if he were a champion color-guard flag-waving dude...or iaido master...or something that flails around with a large stick. 

Surprisingly, no one got hurt and no fun needed to be sucked.

Miss C did scream and writhe in that carrier... but that's a story for another time.

What it is to be TOUGH...

My most favorite race I have ever run would be the Schuylkill Navy Run in Philadelphia, PA. It's a fairly small race run through Fairmount Park on every Thanksgiving Day. It is a closed race as you must be a member of a Schuylkill Navy club or a member's guest. This means that it is almost all rowers or former rowers.

It is cross-country... part of it is on streets but much of it consists of dashing across park lawns, and there is a section cutting through the Horticulture Center (I remember a few years the access gate was still locked when the runners showed up, so some of us ended up hopping the 20' fence while others ran around... sooooo much longer). Knowing the course is a real advantage. Practicing the sight lines and the tangents really increases your chances of placing well. If you are the front-runner and don't know the course, you will ultimately be screwed.

What I loved about this race wasn't just getting out there and sweating on Thanksgiving morning surrounded by a whole lot of friends and teammates. I loved that it was physically and mentally challenging. Working the course to one's advantage was a huge part of the fun...if you knew it, that is. One of my rowing coaches prided himself on how well his athletes did in the Schuylkill Navy Run every year...it was because he had us out there practicing the course. We did mile repeats over sections of the course. We did intervals coming up on the most challenging of sight-line sections. We were prepared.

It was an intimidating race, and I didn't run it every year. There were a couple of years I was injured, a couple of times I had out-of-town family gatherings, and one time I was snowed in at a friend's house in New Jersey. I only ran this race three times in the 8 years I lived and rowed in Philadelphia.

Just three times.

But this post isn't really about me.

This year, Fred Duling will be racing for the 52nd consecutive year. He has the oldest active race streak in the country. Fred is a long-time member of Malta Boat Club and former national team rower. And for many years, he was a solid masters competitor.

What makes his situation even more compelling is that shortly after Thanksgiving last year, Fred suffered severe injuries after a very bad fall. Please click the link to read more about Fred Duling's story. Paralyzed from the abdomen down, Fred will be competing in the Schuylkill Navy Run 2011 in a wheelchair. The linked story tells us that his daughter Sara will assist by pushing the wheelchair up the steepest and grassiest portions of the course.

When I think about the fact that he ran in this one race fifty-one years in a row... 

When I think about his fall and injuries and rehab...
When I think about his drive and determination...

It all renders me awe-struck.

And so very thankful.

It is not simply my own mobility for which I am thankful, it is also the knowledge that a person can persevere and keep finding a way to continue to do what he loves against seemingly insurmountable odds. I am thankful for the human spirit.

Go, Fred! Go, Sara!

Wishing you strength and desire as you head up to the Belmont Mansion at the turnaround...you can do it!  You WILL do it!

Happy Thanksgiving.

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