Into the Woods--Snippet 6--The Final Snippet

* This is a work of fiction.

...They continued to make their way by the slow, brown river. The only noises that the boy heard were the sounds of their feet moving through the underbrush and the constant winding of the hydroelectric plant; the boy's feet were louder than the older man's, but neither minded that. They past the plant and then they turned away from the river and began to follow the power lines as they made their way up the hill towards the gravel road that went towards the house. Both were getting tired of walking, but neither of them wanted it to end. They both felt that they could walk forever like this, but each of them could feel the same heaviness that soon they would be sitting at home wishing to still be out there walking again.

  Out of the corner of his eye, the older man spotted the perfect tree; it even had some of its leaves still. He moved slowly in the direction of the tree, hoping the boy would just follow him and not pick up on their direction change. The older man knew the boy needed to knock down a tree or that is the first thing he would tell everyone or worse, he wouldn't tell anyone and hold it inside. He knew holding something like that inside starts to weigh on a man. He had a lot deep inside and the deeper he pushed it down, the heavier it got. At times, it all got so heavy he could barely move around. He'd seen a tumor once on t.v. that a man had, had surgically removed and it weighed about 40 lbs and the man just kept looking at it while it sat in a jar on a table. The older man knew that all the stuff he kept inside was just like that tumor, but no one was ever going to see it sitting in a jar. Doctors didn't do that kind of cutting on a man. They couldn't and he wouldn't let'em.

   They got nearer to the tree and the older man was happy to see it also still had all its bark. It looked mostly alive and he knew the boy wouldn't know it was dead or see the hundreds of woodpecker holes near the top. When you're young, its hard to see the whole picture because you don't have that type of vision yet. The older man knew that as you aged, you lost your outer vision because your inner vision was growing so much that your body couldn't keep up and support the two. He looked at the tree again and smiled. It was perfect. He knew the boy would make great work outta that tree. It'd make them both happy.

"Whatcha, think about that one, Pokey?"
"Which one?"
"That one right in front of ya'."
"I don't think I'm Okie tough anymore, granddad. Remember the other tree?"
"I don't give a rat's ass about that other tree. It just wasn't willing to fight. Now, get ready and get that tree. Let it know you mean business."
"Ok, I'll give it try."
"You'd better do more than that."

  The young boy tried to conjure up all the evilness and strength he had inside him. He felt it as it rose from his feet and sprang forth like a geyer. His face turned red and he felt the veins sticking out on his head so much that he felt a little light headed. He shook his arms and kicked his feet and screamed at the top of his lungs. He was just sure that that he saw the tree shiver. He stepped back a little and then rushed at the tree, but wasn't sure to know what to expect. He hit the tree with all of his life's power and ripped it out of the ground. Before he knew it, he was twirling it around his head and continuing to scream and shout. He then chucked it to the side. He had proved himself wrong and he didn't care that his granddad was only laughing.

 "Well, I'll be damned again, Pokey. Maybe we better go back to that other tree. I'm sure it is pretty scared of ya' too."
"I did it, I did it."
"I knew ya' could. You just gotta find a tree that is willing ta' fight."
"I just ripped that thing up and gave it a throw."
"By God, you gave us all a fright. I'm sure your granny heard that one. You're Okie tough alright. Just look at that thing. Ya' ripped it out by the roots."

 The boy didn't reply, but began walking away in happiness towards the house. It was true. He hadn't lied to himself and his granddad hadn't lied to him. There was something special about being an Okie. You could summon enough power to rip a tree out of the ground by its roots if you wanted to. It was a special power he had inside himself that he could conjure up. It was the same thing his granddad had and that he had too; just like the brown circle on his right knee. They shared it and only they had it. They were Okies and it was a hell of a lot more than most folks had. He was glad his granddad had said that. He needed that more than he had needed to see himself turn into the woodland beast and deal rightly with the tree.

The End.

Please let me know what you think. Did it end well? Too soon? Was it too predictable? Too simple? Leave a comment, please!

  David

How to Run a Road Race--A Small Tutorial for Amateurs

   I do not claim to know all there is to know about running. Please read the previous sentence multiple times. However, I have run about 100+ races and coached many runners through a lot of races. So, here are some pointers to help you get to the finish line.

   1. Get there early: It is important to arrive at a race early so you do not feel rushed. I hate feeling rushed. Getting to a race early allows you time to find the starting line, warm up, use the rest room, drink some fluids, walk around, and depending on the course, maybe even walk the course to figure out the best way to run it.

  2. Warm Up: Everyone likes to warm up a little different, but warming up is essential to running a good race. I like to run a very (and I mean very) slow mile or so and then come back to my car or my wife and then go through my stretches. This helps get all the cobwebs, nerves, etc out of my legs and my stomach. It also helps to run this warm up on the course so you can get a feel for it before you are being timed on it. With my middle/high school runners we run the whole course before we race it.This makes it feel like old news and nothing to worry about. There's nothing they can show us that we haven't already seen! I like to go through all my stretches and also do some drills. You feel a little funny, but that is okay. Runners are always looking a little funny. I, sometimes get Mel to do them with me even though she is usually just spectating, but you can never be too limber, right? Also, it helps to run several strides at the pace you desire to keep for the race to remind your body how it feels.

3. Use the restroom: I will not go too deeply into this, but use the restroom. There are few things worse than having the gun go off and you start running only to begin to regret not using the restroom a last time. I know I did this once for 16 miles of my first and only marathon. It was not pleasant.

4. Shoes: I will only say to invest wisely for shoes that are made for your feet. They do not have to cost you 100's of dollars, but they do need to be right for your feet or this will cost you in other ways. I wore the wrong pair of shoes for me last summer during a 10K and then couldn't walk for two days. Also, never and I mean NEVER, race in new shoes unless you just love dealing with blisters.

5. Make sure your shoes are tight: Don't loose 30 seconds to a minute or more because you didn't think about your shoes laces. I have had runners who lost their whole shoe and left it on the course, so they wouldn't loose time. I am not that young or resilient.

6. Make sure your number is in a comfortable spot: This can be something that seems a little nit-picky, but by mile 3, 6, 9, 12, 15, etc., etc this can become something you begin to really hate. I like to place mine in about the middle of my stomach area. I have tried to put it a little higher because it looks better, but for me this just doesn't work. After a certain amount of time, it begins to rub on my arms. Also, I only use between 2-3 pins and only give my runners around the same. Four pins is overload. Trust me.

6. Starting Line Placement: This is completely up to you. If you are very fast, get as close the front as you can so that no one gets in our way. If you are slow, then get to the very back for two reasons, 1) so you can have fun passing as many people as you can, and 2) you won't feel like you are holding anyone up. I like being in the middle. This lets me pass some folks, but also keeps me from being hit in the back of the shins with a stroller from a mom on an iPod jamming out to Aerosmith and trying to reach her runner's high a tenth of a mile into the race. However, if it is a large race or even a small race where D-tags are used (fancy name for those little orange timing chips that you put on your left shoe), then you can let everyone leave and start when you want because your time doesn't start until you do!

7. Pace: This is the second hardest one to work on because running a race provides too many obstacles to staying on track. You either go out too fast (I did this last Saturday and I regretted it) or you go out too slow. If you go out too fast and get sucked up in what I like to call the "Great Start Up Frenzy", then you will regret it sometime during the race and will either have to slow down, walk, stop, dropout, or just try to hang on. It all leads to anger and frustration. Trust me. I have done all of the above. And if you go out too slow, then you will cross the finish line still trying to catch up. This leads to even more anger and frustration. I have done this too! You can do one of two things with your pace, you can be a very controlled individual and stick to your pace from beginning to the end, or you can run what is called in running world as "Negative Splits". (Tell someone this at a race and you will seem like you are an old pro!) A negative split is this, you run the first half of the race slower than the second half. This allows you to go about 85% the first half and then boost it up to 95%-100% the second half. This is a great strategy, but you must practice it. This is NOT the thing to decide to do at the halfway point in a race where you already feel you are at or near 100%. I get my runners to do this. We practice though. A lot!

8. Finish Happy: This is THE hardest thing to do if you are like me. However, this is a key step. Why participate in something that leaves you unhappy everytime you try? Well, there is no reason. You need to enjoy the race. Be happy with your time. Every race is different. Your time/pace/race effort can be affected by so many variables it is almost impossible to have every race be your "best race ever". However, it needs to be. You should be happy no matter how you finished. It would have been much easier for you to stay home, in bed, warm, $20-$90 richer, and a lot less frustrated. ENJOY THE RACE. You paid for it. Don't rush it. Runners are the only people I know that pay money to run fast, eat fast, skip the awards, and rush back home. Mel and I like to enjoy the race. We watch most everyone finish. We sample the food. We listen to the awards. we sing along with the bands. We eat the chicken biscuit. We drink the water and gatorade. We go to the expo. We do it all. We paid for it!

Hope some of this is helpful in your next racing effort.

Go Forth and Race,

   David

Running With Joy--A Book Review

   Ryan Hall gets no slack. If you don't believe me, go to the website, letsrun.com. He has accomplished more in his short tenure as a professional runner than most in their entire running careers. And he has done all of this, in the midst of the apex of African distance running domination. He has also done this in the midst of constant anger from the running community. It seems he can do no right. I understand this, but I also don't know where it comes from, but then again, I do. Running is about pain. Running is about bleeding through your socks and shoes in order to win a race. It is about winning by thousandth of a second because you wanted it most. It is about throwing up because you gave everything you had including your bile. America wants another Pre. They don't want excuses. They want blood covered shoes and a collapsed runner, even if it is a fourth place finish, they will still have evidence that the runner almost died in order to win. They thought Ryan would be that for them, but then he was not Pre and they threw him away. Running is not all of this for Ryan Hall. This really gets to the "real" running community. As an example of this, look at the finish of the 2010 Boston Marathon. In the last tenth of a mile, Ryan could have maybe gone for a third place finish, but instead got caught up in the euphoria of the moment and instead ran the final meters with his arms stretched wide-open and a big smile on his face as he finished in 2:08; an American record for the historic race. As he finished, the American running community went ballistic.

    They ignored the fact that he had just run faster than any American ever has on one of the hardest marathon courses in the world. He had not, in their minds, gone for the "win". This was unacceptable to them and this seemed to seal the deal for them. Hall wanted to seek something besides what running was all about and would not live up their potential for him. He was supposed to the Last Great White Hope for American Running. He had failed them and they let their anger out about once a week. They are busy now frantically looking for his replacement; especially now that he has left the Mammoth Track Club and is seeking the advice of others, but mainly God for how he should train and race. He has become a fool and is officially through. They have written him off. However, what I think really bothers them is that he seems to completely ignore all of this. That is what this book is all about.

   In, Running With Joy, Hall recounts his build up to the 2010 Boston Marathon, but also gives a lot of running advice about a multitude of items. He begins with how he got involved in running and the varied places that it has led him. He tells of the many ups and downs involved with being an elite runner. He tells of his struggles and his triumphs. He tells of his goals, visions, and downfalls. He does all these things within one prism though and this is the prism of his relationship with Christ. To Hall, running is nothing without it being a place to worship, correspond with, commune with, interact with, find pleasure in, and represent Christ. To remove Christ from Hall's running would be to remove his epicenter.

  Hall began his venture into running with a vision as a young boy, he was traveling to an away, basketball game and saw a lake (Big Bear Lake) and felt that he needed to run around the lake. He told his father and they took a run around the lake. It took him a long time. It was a 15 mile run. After the run, his father told him two things and he has been chasing those two things for his whole life. His father told him that he could compete with the best runners in the world and that he could use his God-given abilities to help others. I feel it is important to know of this vision in order to understand why Hall runs. And as a follower of running, you cannot ignore him. He holds the American record for the half marathon and is the fastest, natural-born American marathoner to ever live.

 I liked this book for three main reasons and here they are:

1) I found it both interesting and refreshing to know that elite runners have bad workouts, nagging injuries, more off days than on days, struggle to even run the length of certain runs, and finish races wondering how they could do so poorly. As a middle of the pack recreational runner, it is easy to get discouraged and begin wondering often why you have chosen such a foolish hobby. It is easy to forget why you run. In this book, Hall reminds the reader why he began running and this helps you remind yourself why you began running. It was for joy and the freedom you get from it. It was not for a personal best or an award.

2) Hall's father was his high school cross country coach and told him and his high school teammates something that registered deeply with me. It was a quote from the Disney movie "Cool Runnings" . I actually feel a little silly being affected by a quote from a Disney movie. The coach in the movie tells the very serious sled driver that if he isn't enough without the medal, then he won't be enough when he gets it. This is a paraphrase of course, but you get the drift. I will remind myself and my runners of this often. It is too easy too feel valuable when you are winning or setting one goal after another, but it is quite another to feel you are enough when you are losing. And to Hall, being enough can only be found in one place and that is to constantly remind yourself that you are a chosen son or daughter of God. He has saved you, redeemed you, and is coming back to get you. That is all there is and all there ever needs to be. God is enough. You need nothing else.

3) I liked reading about his workouts. They were very impressive and crazy at the same time. I liked seeing them for one main reason and that was that it is easy to make yourself push to the brink on every workout because you know that hard work pays off instead of letting your body rest. Hall tells you that he often runs his easy days at 2-3 minutes slower each mile than when he is going through hard workouts. This is something very hard to let myself and my runners understand. I always want to push hard in hopes of becoming better and my runners are constantly nagging me for harder and harder workouts in hopes of becoming stronger and I have to give them an easy one instead so they stay healthy and hungry. They are always so surprised when they win or do well because as one of my runners said last week, "Coach, we really need to work harder. We only have like one or two hard workouts a week." And I asked him if we weren't winning and if he wasn't doing well. And he told me that we were undefeated and that he was running better than he ever has. And this left him guessing as he took off on his very easy warm up lap. This is very hard to understand. And it is easier to make someone else follow than yourself. I give my runners much more grace than I give myself. We cannot, as Hall says, "go to the well", every workout or there will be nothing left when it is time to do so. This is one of the most valuable pieces of information found in this book.

  Read this book if you like running, hate running, or need inspiration. Read this book if you are a Hall supporter, a Hall hater, or don't even know who he is. The lessons he writes about can be used in a variety of places in every one's life.

Hope I didn't bore you and as the guy from Reading Rainbow would say, "Don't take my word for it....

David

Into the Woods--Snippet 5

* This is a work of fiction.

....He was glad they were near the river now because he could get home if he could keep following the lazy, brown river because they always spent most of their time near it. Or at least the time he spent with his older brother. The older man always made some comment about the fact that he'd been trying to get away from that damn river his whole life, but it always brought him back, but the young boy knew his older brother liked the river and that made him like it too. He could actually tell that his older brother loved the river more than any other place out here it seemed. The young boy like being in the woods better, but he had to go where his older brother went and really the boy was just happy to not be inside. He always felt restless being inside; even being on the porch was better than being inside. They were always setting up catfish lines and checking them about twenty times a day, or going to the dump at the end of the road to look through whatever treasures people had left for the day. The young boy didn't much like doing this, but his brother had gotten lucky too many times at the dump to quit coming. The only treasure the boy thought was neat was the little, yellow radio that his mother listened to while she folded laundry and all it had needed was a new cord. The young boy guessed he also liked when he and his brother or whomever else would read to each other lines from the love novels that they found piled high at the dump. They would read the lines and then laugh until their stomachs hurt. The young boy didn't understand a lot of the lines, but it was just funny to read them and laugh together. He loved watching the other people laugh. His older brother would double over and his face would redden. He knew his older brother understood the lines they were reading and the young boy looked forward to the day he would too, so they could be even funnier. And the dump was near the river and that meant they could check the catfish lines again.

       The only thing the young boy really liked doing at the dump was lining up bottles or cans and trying to shoot them with his BB gun or his older brother's 22. He would line them up in long rows and try to shoot his way through them. He could do pretty well until someone paid close attention to him and then he would get too nervous. His little sister was pretty good at it too, but he would never tell her that. He wasn't too sure about who was the best at shooting though. His dad was very good, but his granddad was good at it and made it seem flashy. His dad was always very serious about sighting it in and getting your breathing right, but his granddad didn't do any of that. He would shoot from his hip or turn real quick from the opposite direction and then shoot most of them down. He knew his dad was the best, but it seemed he was trying real hard at it, but his granddad was the best to watch because he made it seem so easy. When everyone was watching, he would do it the way his dad had taught him, but when he was all alone, he would try being like his granddad. The young boy knew he wasn't too good at shooting, but he loved the way it felt; for a very brief moment the real world faded away and he was not the young boy, but instead he was Wild Bill Cody or some other character that seemed so real to the little boy he could see him, touch him, be him.

    They kept walking near the river and the boy began to recognize many familiar sights in the distance. It was one of the first times of the day he actually knew where they were. He figured he could get to the river from about any direction they left from his grandparent's house because they never went to it the same way. He liked that about walking with his granddad. They never went the same way to and from somewhere. This made every walk something new where you had to pay attention instead of just following the same, boring path back to the house. He liked that they could go just about anywhere from just about anywhere....

 Be looking forward to Snippet #6,
    David

Into the Woods--Snippet 4

* This is a work of fiction.

...So, the older man and the young boy began walking down the hillside in unison, kicking up the heavy, dead leaves. The old man was thinking about the biscuits they'd had for dinner and wishing he'd had another, but all the young boy could think about was his failure with the tree. He had looked in it's eyes and it had pushed him down. His whole life he'd believed that being an Okie had meant something.; like a special power that he had and no one else could get. He'd secretly held it over everyone he knew. It had been given only to him, just like the birthmark on his right leg. He shared that with his granddad too. They were both Okies and that meant something or at least he hoped it did. He needed it to.

   The older man scanned the trees and hoped they would come upon just the right one. It needed to be one that looked alive, but was as dead and rotten as it could be. He was glad it was late fall so that the boy wouldn't be able to recognize its lack of leaves. He'd seen a couple trees that were good and rotten, but they had lost their bark. He needed one with bark. He knew the boy would need one that looked alive. It was good to feel powerful and alive. There weren't too many things in life that made you feel that way. Most things beat you down.  He knew the trees were dead and rotten, but it still made him feel good.

  They made their way deeper into the woods and came close to the river. It flowed slowly and the older man stared out at it. The water was way up already and seemed browner than it had in a while. He guessed the winter rains had begun a little early this year. He hoped it wouldn't flood, but knew it probably would. It always had and probably always would. The flooding had changed his life a long time ago. He was glad it had. He wouldn't have this little boy to follow him around if the river wouldn't have flooded then.
 
  "Granddad, are we a long way from home?"
  "Sure, sure."
  "Are we lost?"
  "Sure, sure."
  "I'm getting kind of hungry."
  "Okie's, don't get hungry."
  "Think granny is going to cook something good tonight?"
  "She will if she doesn't try one of those casseroles."
  "I don't like those casseroles very much."
  "You shouldn't. Okies don't eat stuff like that."
  "You seen a good tree for me to try?"
  "No, but I'm looking."

  They kept on in silence and made their way through the woods. The boy was hoping the older man wasn't lost and was just kidding when he kept asking the boy if he knew how to get home and saying that he was lost and that he hadn't ever been to that part of the woods. He was glad they were near the river now because he could get home if he could keep following the river...

Should there be a Part 5?

   David

Into the Woods--Snippet 3

* This is a work of fiction.

...The young boy looked at the trees that surrounded him and tried to pretend that he also knew how to pick out a descent enemy. To his left, a smallish, round tree seemed to be the right type and the boy set his sights on it and tried to make it scared of him. The boy tried to change himself into a woodland beast as the older man had, but he couldn't quite feel any change come over him and he hoped the older man wouldn't know how silly he felt.

  He trembled and shook and slowly moved towards the tree. He screamed so loudly it shocked him and he held his breath so that he could feel the veins in his brain beating against his skull. He placed his mercilous hands around the skinny trunk of the tree and pushed and then pulled. Nothing happened. He screamed louder and pulled and violently shook the tree, but nothing happened, except a few dead limbs came down from the top of the tree along with a few leaves. He stopped everything and stared his foe in the eyes and slowly backed up. He then let out a primordial scream and rushed towards the tree with everything inside him, but the tree would have none of it and knocked him to the ground.

  He did not try to get up and he heard nothing. Slowly, the boy noticed small noises around him and they grew instantly louder. He heard the leaves crackle beneath him as he moved. Then all of the sounds of the woods came back to him and ended with the sounds of his granddad's quiet laughter.

   "Well, I'll be damned, Pokey."
   "I guess you were right about me, granddad."
   "Right about what?"
   "About me not being Okie tough anymore."
   "I didn't say anything like that and you know that. Now, listen to me, Pokey. You scared the hell out of that tree and nobody can take being an Okie away from you."
   "Even if you live in Florida?"
   "It don't matter where ya' live. If you were born in Oklahoma, then you'll always be an Okie and that's a hell of a lot more than most folks."
   " But what if I can't ever push down a tree?"
   "I betcha' can right now if you really put your mind to it. I think you just tried to fight the wrong one. Let's keep walking a little while and I'll find you a good one. You just gotta learn how to pick the good ones."

   So, the older man and the young boy began walking down the hillside in unison....

Let me know what you think and leave a comment!

David

Into the Woods--Snippet 2

* This is a work of fiction.

....They made their way to a larger creek that the red, clay washout that they were following went through and the young boy ran quietly up ahead hoping to catch a beaver at work, but there were none to be seen. He made his way back to the older man who had stopped to pick up an arrowhead, but he did not stop near him, but instead kept going. He made it back to the crest of the cattle road he had just run down and wished so badly that the Indians were still there and that they still did their war dances loudly enough to be heard from his granddad's house. He looked behind him to ask the older man about the Indians, but didn't see him anywhere. He turned quickly and ran down the embankment and then was struck with amazed terror at what he saw.

   The boy watched with wild eyes at the man that stood before him. He did not fully recognize him, but he wanted to. He had known him just ten minutes earlier, but he was not the same man. He had become something that was all arms and legs driven by a deep, guttural sound that came from some other place than his body. He had been transformed into a woodland beast who happened to look like the boy's granddad.

  The older man looked at the young boy and began to tremble and shake. He moved slowly towards a nearby tree and put his beast-like claws around it and screamed and squealed until the veins shot out of his neck and stained his face a scarlet red. The boy watched in an awestruck terror, but couldn't take his eyes off the older man or the tree. The tree quivered under the earth-shattering grip of the old man. Then in a flash of light, the old man ripped the tree out of the ground and raised it in the air; shaking it to show what his power had done. And then as if the beast had been a vapor, it once again became a granddad and the boy trembled with delight.

  "Think you could do that, Pokey?"
  "Maybe."
  "Well, are ya' Okie tough or not?"
  "I think I am."
  "Thinking and being ain't the same. Now pick you out a tree, Pokey."

  The young boy looked around at the trees that surrounded him and tried to pretend that he also knew how to pick out a descent enemy....

Let me know what you think,
   David

31 is the new 90, or Happy St. Patrick's Day!

  I did something yesterday, March 16, that is hard to admit, but I will since you, my faithful readers are always forgiving. If you aren't, just keep being quiet for me. It has really boosted my self-esteem. Here are the sad and terrible details:
 
    My alarm went off as it always does at 6:30 am. I laid there for a while and then got up. (It used to be light outside just five days ago at this time, but now it is pitch black which makes it so much harder for me to get out of bed.) I made my way downstairs, made the coffee (literally), laid out our daily vitamins, took my Prilosec, got my XC/Track bag, went back upstairs. I took a shower, weighed myself, and then got dressed. As I got dressed, I remembered that today, March 16, was St. Patrick's Day. I took off the blue shirt I was wearing and put on a green/blue plaid shirt. I was so proud of myself. I made a plan to really get those suckers that had forgotten because, I, for once had not. I finished getting dressed, hugged my wife, reminded her to wear green if she went anywhere, got my things together, drove to school. I get to school about 30-45 minutes before it starts, so I watched each of my 1st Period kids walk in. Only a few of them had any green on. The bell rang. I got up and made my move. I walked row by row and looked for the green. I made it threw rows before a student said:

    "Mr. Dark, what the heck are you pinching us for if we don't have any green on?"
    "That's what happens when you don't wear green, crazy."
    "But, Mr. Dark, tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day."
    "Are you serious?"
    "Yes, sir."

  I then walked back to the front with my head hung low. This was worse than showing up an hour early at church because of the time change. This was in front of very cool sixteen year olds. I tried to play it off, but the crowd was tough. I guess I deserved it. I then went to gather their nightly homework. I always win this game because someone always forgets, but I just didn't feel much like a winner yesterday. I had worn green and pinched  about 12 kids on the wrist before someone had the courage to tell the teacher suffering from momentary amnesia that he should stop doing that a day early. I am glad they did because I would have kept on for the whole day.

Hope you are having a good and real Happy St. Patrick's Day and maybe you too will have a chance to help me through my many, early occurring, Senior moments,
   David

 

Into the Woods--Snippet 1

* This is a work of fiction.

  Into the woods they walked. The older man leading the young boy; each playing off the other's shadow. They walked deeper and deeper into the woods; up and down the small hills and through the pastures of forgotten cattle and homesteads. The older man pointed out special rocks, leaves, and creek beds that he knew the boy would enjoy. The boy wouldn't remember the names of what he saw later on, but only how they came out of the old man's mouth like the words from a secret language.

  And so they walked from morning till afternoon, through the hours and deeper into the woods. The older man pointed out places that used to be homes full of life, but now where only half chimmneys and forgotten wells. He told him stories about the families that lived there and the boy missed them even though he had never met them. And the young boy wished so badly to have been around then and run around with the older man when he was a boy, but he didn't tell him this.

  The older man constantly told the boy to be quiet in the woods, but today the boy tried his hardest to walk as quielty as the older man had said the Indians used to walk. The older man had said that if you are quiet, then you will get to see some animals and the boy really wanted to see them. He knew they had been trying to sneak up on a beaver since he had first come out there. They paused at different places and sat real still so they could watch turkey and deer move about. The boy liked watching the deer, but he also liked the turkey because he liked pretending they were people and it made him laugh inside.

 They made their way to a larger creek and the young boy ran up ahead hoping to catch a beaver at work, but there weren't any in sight. The boy thought that maybe they had heard his footsteps. He made his way back to the older man who had stopped to pick up an arrowhead...

Snippet #2 coming at you Manana,
   David

Adding Insult to Injury--A Confession

This is a nonfiction account of something that occured in my actual life.

  I have a confession to make. I don't really need to tell you, but I do. It will make us all feel a little better about things. Because I coach cross country and track people assume I am a health freak and only eat the best for me. I wish this were true.I do try so hard, but I like cake and french fries far too much. Parents and kids act strange around me or confess that they had a soft drink or a ate a piece of cake and ask how many miles does that equal. This always makes me feel a little weird. I am never sure what to say and I wonder if they ever take a good look at me. I need to lose some pounds (about 10-15 to be exact). I eat dessert right out there in the open. I drink Coke. I talk about ice cream like it is my best friend.

   Saturday, I did a favor for a friend. I coached a varsity track meet for the school I work at. This is above my pay grade and security clearance. I live in the land of middle school. I am most comfortable there. This friend's grandma passed away. He had to do the funeral. He couldn't do both the meet and the funeral. They were going to have to cancel the trip to the meet and they would lose their entry fee. I accepted. I fall for guilt everytime and the track meet was only supposed to last from 9:20 am till 3:30 pm. How bad could it be, right? As Mel would say to me...it takes a friend to make a friend. Not an easy concept to accept as a Dark.

  At the meet, they fed us. They didn't just feed us the usual filler food, they fed us well. Too well. And here is where we get to the bad stuff. So, here is the confession and make sure you know that from 8:30 am till 8:30 pm, I was watching people exert themselves and burn calories. I, on the other hand, walked slowly around from event to event or stood in one place with a stop watch in hand and only moved my fingers and neck. Needles to say, I was not burning many calories. Here is what I ate and know I had good intentions of denial, but it didn't quite work out:

Breakfast: coffee, a Fiber One bar, two (2) McDonald's sausage biscuits, three mini-cinnamon rolls, a cup of OJ, and two waters. (Don't add the calories. It will break your calculator.)

3 hours later:

Lunch: Two slices of cheese pizza, two chocolate cookies, a small piece of pound cake, and a Coke.

3 hours later:

Snack: Another Coke and a donut.

5 hours later:

Dinner: A medium Arby's roast beef sandwich, 6 cheese sticks, and sweet tea.

2 hours later:

Snack: A tall glass of chocolate milk.

And here is where we add insult to injury: I had given up drinking Coke/carbonated beverages for Lent. I didn't remember that decision until after I sucked down Coke #2. I guess I will need to extend my period of Lent.

Well, now you know. Hope you are doing better than I did and will remember that burning calories isn't something you can do through osmosis. I've tried and failed. Badly.

   David

Tonight, I Celebrate My Love For You...#2

     It is getting to be Spring in Macon. We are all very happy. The brown grass and the trees with no leaves were bringing us all down a little. The weather has been awesome minus the several days of rain as of late. It is chilly in the morning, but warms up to around 75-80 degrees during the day. I wish it could stay like this all year, but I know this is not true because we live in Macon. It will soon be 90-100 degrees and will stay that way till late November. I am thankful though that we live in a place where we do get some of each of the four seasons. Where I grew up (Central Florida) and where Mel and I used to live (Dothan, Alabama) we got two seasons, or really 2.5 seasons. There was summer and then a summer light, and then about two weeks of it being cold, and then back to summer light.

   Macon, Georgia is a beautiful place to live in the Spring. (More about this later!) We have a lot of trees and other plants that blossom; whole roads are lined with the most amazing display of spring color. I get to drive on these to work twice a day. It makes going to work a lot better. The grass turns really green and the trees have the brightest color of new green in their freshly-formed leaves. All of this to say really two things, 1) is that I am so happy Spring is here, and 2) Spring in Macon is a beautiful time.

  However, that is not what this post is about. This post is about something I love and that is:

Tonight I Celebrate My Love For You....Mowing

     I love mowing my yard so very much. I actually just love mowing. Yes, I sweat. Yes, at times it is hard. Yes, everything about mowing is not awesome, but I love it anyway. My whole life is full of things that bleed delayed gratification. My job. My hobbies. My house. My Christian life. Someday, I may see my students lead successful lives. Someday, my runners will win and beat themselves. Someday, my house may look like it should. Someday, I may become a good runner. Someday, I may really trust Christ with all things in my life, follow instead of trying to lead, and rest in the Gospel of grace that I receive, but never deserve. Someday. Some sweet day.

   However, mowing is not this way at all. It is wonderfully indulgent, instant gratification. What I mean by this is this: your yard is overgrown and looks terrible, you crank the mower, 20-40 minutes go by and you have transformed your yard and all you did was push and pull something. You didn't have to solve anything. You didn't have a list of rules you had to follow or make others follow. You didn't have anyone to impress. You didn't have to talk or really even think. You just pushed and pulled. And when your work was done, you got to see some results and they are always good. You feel good. You have for one brief moment of the day followed the wise words of Edward Bok:

   "Make your world a little better or more beautiful because you have lived in it."

I will mow your yard and enjoy it,
   David

A Trip to Pandora's Box

This post is about an actual event in my life!



   This may seem like an odd title, but we'll say that it is definitely not what it sounds like. It was odd for me, or as the title says, a trip to Pandora's Box for me. I can best explain it by saying that I am a pretty boring guy. I am fine with that. It is just who I am. I have done some crazy things in the past, but at 31, the craziest it can get is still pretty banal when you think of crazy people or crazy acts. I am a man of habits. Many of you, will say this is the biggest understatement of 2011, but it is the truth. I wear the same things everyday. I do the same things everyday. I basically eat the same things each day. I would not be hard person to predict what I was going to do next. If fact, maybe you should try this, you might win some money or some other type of prize. For example, my students could say, "I'll bet you twenty-five cents that Mr. Dark will wear a bow tie today." They would probably win themselves 1/4 of a Cold Coke. Or my track team could say, "I'll bet you your lunch Mr. Dark wears that stupid, white marathon hat today to practice." Then that kid would be on his/her way to feeling way too full for 5th Period. All I am really trying to say is that I am very predictable. Don't say, "duh".

 This weekend, it rained, and rained, and rained. I got several things accomplished inside, but really wanted to get outside, but couldn't. Mel and I began to get stir crazy. I blame it on the coffee and the rain. Mel blames Jack who ate through her red rug. We decided to get out. We had three choices: go to Madison, Ga, stay home and watch Netflix till our eyes hurt or Jack Bauer died, or go to Atlanta. We decided that Madison might not be such a good idea in the rain and that Jack Bauer has already died, but then came back to life in order to save America. So, going to Atlanta was our only choice. And that we did.

 After we made our decision, we got ready very quickly. It was already Saturday afternoon and daylight was burning. (Really it looked like it was after 6 pm and it was still raining.) I took a quick shower, began getting dressed in my daily uniform (khaki pants, undershirt, some type of colored shirt, argyle or wool running socks, etc.) when something caught my eye: my lone pair of jeans. This is where my trip to Pandora's Box began.

   The reason this is funny is that I don't wear jeans. They are hot. They aren't comfortable to me. They are too tight when you first put them on. And I just love a good pair of khaki pants and have since I was 14 and wore my first pair of Gap khakis. I know what this makes me and I'm fine with it. I have tried giving up jeans since I was 14. However, this is easier said than done. People are always seeing that I don't wear jeans and then feeling weird about it and then giving me a pair or making sure I buy a pair. I tried wearing corduroy pants, but people were not impressed with my compromise. What can I say, I'm not Henry Clay. I'm the guy with a closet full of khaki pants and plaid shirts.

    I actually didn't wear a pair of jeans from the time I was 24-30. It was a good time in my life. This all changed last summer. I had to (if you are my mom, please read this is as "got to") get a pair of jeans for a family picture. It was June. We were in Florida. It was on the beach. The temperature was right above searing and right below plasma. We made it through. We now have some great family pics. The above pic came from that time. We'll say it was worth it. I survived. Mel was gracious enough to go to Old Navy with me and help me try on all the different types of jeans, hold in her laughter until we were done, and only called me George Strait once or twice. (A weird fact is that the first time I took Melissa somewhere, I wore jeans and a football shirt untucked. Weird!) Why are there so many types of jeans? They all basically look the same and jeans are jeans. I know the answer. Just give me some slack. I don't understand wanting to wear a pair of jeans or rushing home to put on my comfy jeans. I wear comfortable khaki pants. They are like that all day.

  Anyway, to make a long story a tad bit shorter, I put the jeans on. I walked downstairs and Mel was sitting on the couch. I try to pretend like everything was normal. Mel noticed the jeans right away. She laughed. And she laughed, And then she laughed some more. I then decided to go with it. So, I wore the jeans for the whole rest of the day. Mel laughed each time she saw me. I pretended that I wear jeans all the time. So, be aware of the next time you see me or talk to me. I may say or do something crazy. I may suggest we go get Chinese. You may see me in the Gap looking at the jeans. You may see me getting pumped up about about a football game. I may try wearing cotton running socks. I may request yogurt over ice cream. I may listen to something besides NPR on my way to work and something besides AM-conservative radio on the way home. I may start drinking Powerade. Who can know? They say that once Pandora's box has been open, one can never know what is coming at you next. Heck, I may even be found reading a Nick Spark's book.

You better watch out,
   David

 

A Little Clarification for Us All

My dear, faithful readers,

    Something has been brought to my attention and it worries me. It seems that actually I have been worrying you and I want to quit doing that as soon as possible. Many of you have been reading this blog and thinking everything that is posted on Hines Terrace Herald was an actual anecdote from my life. However, this is only partly true. Yes, most of what is posted on this blog is from my life and about what I am actually doing everyday. However, I have a hobby (besides running) that takes up a lot of space on this blog as well. This hobby is that I am an amateur writer of sorts. I have been working at trying to become a writer of fiction for the last six years. I even began this blog in order to have a place to let my writing be seen by others and have them give me some feed back in order for me to become a better writer. As a fledgling writer, it can be discouraging at times to write things and keep them to yourself inside little notebooks and always wonder if you are just wasting your time or if they is something worthwhile hiding on the lines inside your notebooks. So...I began Hines Terrace Herald.

  So, I need to ask you a favor and I will give you back another. My favor from you is that you please stop worrying about little old me. I am fine. I am not lonely. I have Mel, Jack, Lady, 84 students, a track team of 40+ runners, an awesome Bible study group, etc. I don't walk to work, but instead drive a very stylish wagon. I don't work at Sears. I teach science at a small, private school. I don't live in a small apartment, but instead live in an old house that my wife and I are slowly remodeling. And my favor to you is that I will let you know when you are reading a sample of my fiction and when you are reading about something that is actually in "real time" as they say on 24.

  Thanks to everyone who reads and checks out this blog. I truly appreciate it.

      David

A Workman's Dream--Snippet 7

...Like I just finished saying, it's not the actual act of walking that bothers me. It's the things that I see along the way. I try to make myself do it differently each day; the walking that is, but I can't seem to think about much else and most of the time I don't much care to. It happens like this: I'm just walking down the side of the road when I see something like an overgrown yard, or a house where the paint is peeling, or a couple of lonely dogs and then my mind wanders down a thousand different roads chasing a thousand different rabbit trails; sometimes I do this so intently that I will get to work and forget how I got there. This happens more times than I care to admit.

    I walk by each house thinking about the million things I'd do to make it better than the people who own it because it never seems that they know what they have. As I move down the road, I manicure every inch of every lawn. I care for the dogs or cats I see. I paint each house and put shutters on them. I wave good-bye to the pretty, young woman standing in the doorway instead of yelling at her about something silly like cold eggs. I fix everything I see. I guess this makes me like most folks; I've got all the answers for everyone else's life, but none for my own. Maybe we should all just manage each other's lives. We might get along better, but then again, I'd rather be in change and miserable than not in charge and helpless, but that's just me.

    The funny part about it all is that my little, crappy apartment is a mess. I just can't seem to care much about the place. I always try to, but then remember that it isn't mine and nothing is harder to me than caring for something that you don't own. It seems to be pointless. They say home is where your heart is and I used to know where that is, but all I can really say now is that it isn't here. I tried to make it here, but she left a couple weeks ago and it feels like the city died in her wake, but that's getting ahead of things a little. I need to be telling you about my walking to work and how I do it. I feel like it will help you better understand me. I keep trying to do it differently, but nothing seems to work for me. I have tried to do it seriously and I have tried to do it casually. I just wish there was a way to do it while asleep, but there isn't.

    I used to try and turn each walk into a series of little games. It helps pass the time and is my feeble attempt to ignore my surroundings. I try to count the number of red doors, crying kids, angry spouses, cars that need their belts tightened, old people trying to spy out their windows without being seen, etc. I also play other little games, but they are all about the same. They all have to do with paying very close attention to the small details in order to ignore the bigger picture. I got this idea from a movie a guy at work loaned me. One of the characters in the movie said that nobody paid any attention to how bad the Yankees played because they had such nice uniforms. It wasn't what the movie was about, but it's what I got out of it. It has helped me a lot lately, but only sometimes. Many things still get to me during my games though. I have found myself getting angry at the things around me because their not playing the game by the rules and then I remember that I'm the only who knows we are playing. Then I feel a little silly.

   The biggest thing that really gets to me when I'm walking to and from work or any other place is when I see or hear people yelling and fighting with one another.....


Keep writing or shut it down? Please let me know what you think? Or if the story is confusing?
  David

Public Speaking and My Middle Schoolers

(Not Kids I Teach!)

   This week at the school that I teach at has been a week full of five minute speeches about a variety of topics. Wednesday and Thursday, we got to hear from twelve of the best speakers from the 6th-8th grade. All the speakers were very brave in their attempt and each did an awesome job considering their age and that they spoke for five whole minutes under some very bright stage lights, in front of their peers (middle school peers are not for the faint of heart...they call them like they see them. If you are ever told that you have ego problems, go speak in front of a group of 7th-8th graders and ask them what they think of you. Don't do this if you already have self-esteem issues. You will never recover!), and with no cues, note cards, notes, etc. There were several who made it through their whole speech with no mistakes. The most impressive parts about each of the students and their speeches to me were the fact that they both wrote and performed their own speeches. Our present politicians should watch their backs. I know some kids, 12 of them to be exact, that can write speeches, give them, handle disruptions, and then close all without the use of a staff, speech-writers, or a teleprompter.

  Like I mentioned, they spoke about a variety of topics. I even learned a thing or two. Did you guys know that the inventor of Coke sold the formula and company for $2,300 dollars because he could only sell about nine drinks a day in most locations? I can imagine that being a bad decision. Or did you know that the original microwaves came out the 1960's and that they didn't sell well? I can't imagine why. Maybe its because they consumed 3000 watts of power, weighed 1000 pounds, and cost $5000. That's probably not why, though. What do I know? I'm learning things from a 6th grader. Mercer thanks for nothing. Well, thanks for Melissa and a couple other things. Just why didn't you teach me more about Coca-Cola and the history of the microwave?

       Another great part of the speech competition were the judges. They were local celebrities and the school made a big deal out of it. Two worked for the Macon telegraph and one of them works for a local AM station. I do wish the audience could have been privy to their analysis of each speech though. I would have liked that a lot. I will suggest that for next year. Maybe they could be less like judges and more like sportscasters. Their could even be pre-speech hype and post speech analysis and maybe even some rebuttals by other middle schoolers at large. Maybe Anderson Cooper could come and do a segment, let us know he is a Vanderbilt, that he went to Yale, and maybe even tell me what gel he uses on his air, so I could update my look a little. Okay, so I'm going too far. Let's just say I loved the local celeb. judges. A lot!

  The winning speech was about Facebook. Someone call David Fincher and let him know that he may have not gotten an Oscar for his movie, but there is a young girl with a pretty, sweet plaque to hang on her wall in Macon, Georgia that can thank him for preparing the way. We all weren't ready for Mark Zukerberg, but thanks to Mr. Fincher for letting us in on the Hollywood version and not actually making us listen to him in real life. Neither side could have handled it well. The second place speech was about microwaves and the third place speech was about Coca-Cola. I will say that if I were a judge, the Coke speech would have gotten first because Coke is far more necessary for a life well-lived than Facebook. If you don't believe me ask Mel. She knows everything I don't. Which is a lot.

 I do however have one last suggestion for next year's competition that would really jazz the place up and guarantee a sold-out crowd. They should turn the middle school speech contest into a version of....

   They could hand out samples of what each speech is about. It would get the crowd into the speeches. I could have really used: an iPad, an iPod, a microwave, an artificial heart, cold Cokes, a refrigerator, lasers, a Facebook account, a blood bank, just to name a few of the speech topics. Don't you think that would be a great idea. Mel and I can even to do a great Oprah impersonation courtesy of 30 Rock, "Here comes.....!" What do you think? Should I suggest it? I think so.

  Well, let me know what you think,
     David
                                

Weird Things My Dogs Do--Part 2

     As most of you know by now, Mel and I have two dogs. They are the best of dogs and they are the worst of dogs. I am not too sure exactly what we would talk about most of the time if we didn't have them around. Most people talk about their kids and their jobs. We talk about our dogs, books, and ask each other why Netflix hasn't gotten the latest season of Law and Order: SVU, yet. You know, all the important things in life, right?

     We love our dogs a lot. We pretend things are going on in our dog's lives when we know they aren't. We have given each of our dog's a voice. We are always telling each other what the dogs are saying or thinking. For example, last night, I told Mel I am having a tough time finding a good disciplinarian action against Jack because he keeps trying to steal my cell phone and call this other dog named Maggie, that our friends own and that Jack really likes...if you know what I mean. So, maybe...a better title for this post should be weird things we do, but I guess you will have to read Lady's blog or follow Jack on Twitter. They are both so hip. They keep us young and relevant.

   I wanted to continue this post series because Jack and Lady seem to always doing something new that is as weird or more weird than what they previously were doing. Here are some of their latest weirdo trends:

    Jack got a new bone for Christmas. It is a giant bone. It is literally 1.5 feet long and probably weighs about 5-8 pounds. He loves running around with it, chucking it in the air at you or just up in the air. He will then try to catch it. However, sometimes he hits you with it. It hurts. Often times though, he will try to catch it, then he misses it, and then it hits his front paws. He yelps and cries, but then throws it up again and tries to catch it again.

     Lady is a digger, but she hides it. I am actually not sure why she is digging and I can't catch her doing it. I used to spank Jack for the holes. I did this till I came out early one morning and Lady sprinted to the deck with dirt on her snout and paws and then I looked at the holes with fresh eyes. They were only Lady-sized holes. Jack could have never done such little damage. I felt terrible. Still do. We are in counseling. This started out with just one or two holes. This morning there were 15. Isn't this a phycological disorder? Has to be.

  Hope you enjoyed these two. I will add more as our time with Jack and Lady goes on. There is always something new.

Hope you have a great Wednesday,
   David