A Change of Allegiance

   Mascots are a funny thing. Not funny in that laugh out loud way, but I guess some of them are that too, but what I mean is funny, in that strange, hard to explain way. I have a feeling that boys will understand this post a little more than girls will, but hopefully everyone will. It is really more about a feeling than something that is tangible.

    I feel that most of us have been taught how important loyalty is. Each of have talked to till we are all bright, blue in the face about acting unselfishly and how the "team" comes first. We have also been shown too many examples of the opposite of this and everyone telling us about these examples of disloyalty usually has on a very serious face and looks very disappointed and saddened. We have all been told that and made to believe that there is no "I" in team, but then we are patted on the back and told to, play our best, or, run our own race, or, show us what you've got to contribute, and then thrown into the game. This is where things get a little confusing. Then we add age and experience and things go from blurry to completely murky. Let me try to explain using my own life.

  When I was brought into this world, there only existed three possible mascots, I was born a Yankee, a Sooner, and a Dolphin. I didn't exactly know this, but it was something I would grow to understand and the teams would become apart of me. Things were easy then, but everything was about to change. My understandings of loyalty and allegiances were about to be stretched, warped, and changed.

 When I was a wee lad, my first sporting experience was that I was on the Lions t-ball team and yet, I was also a Tavares Elementary Patriot. I could keep it straight then though. They didn't seem connected. I was a Patriot on Monday through Friday, but Saturday mornings were reserved for being a Lion. And this stayed the same for the next several years. During this time, I also was a Buccaneer, Raider, Athletic, Cardinal, a Philly and numerous other teams, but I could still keep it pretty straight because I was still a Patriot on the weekdays and the others on Saturday morning. However, I could tell things were about to get a little confusing because my brother attended the local high school where he was a Bulldog. So, I could still keep it straight, but my allegiances were starting to feel a little spread out. I was to be a Patriot on Monday-Friday afternoon, on Friday night, I was Bulldogs, Saturday morning I was a Buc (or numerous other teams), and on Saturday afternoon I was Florida Gator, and on Sunday I was a Dolphin. Then came my 4th Grade year and things began to get a little weird.

  In my fourth grade year, my parents took me out school, brought me home, and for the next nine years, I was homeschooled. On Monday-Friday, I was without a mascot, which was fine with me, but I still had my Friday night team (Bulldogs), my Saturday morning teams, the Florida Gators and Oklahoma Sooners, and the Dolphins. And this scenario went on for many years and I got to feel very comfortable with my allegiances. There was only one major change and that was my older brother finished his time as a Bulldog and became a Baylor Bear. I lost my weekday mascot, and my Friday night team, but my Saturdays were full to the brim and Sundays didn't change. Then came the 9th Grade and I began my journey into the Twilight Zone of mascots and team allegiances.

  At the beginning of my 9th Grade year, the homeschool group my family belonged to formed a basketball team, adopted a mascot, and I tried out and became a Hawk. I know had weekday and night mascot. As a Hawk, I learned how to live and die as a Hawk . I learned about the glory of winning, the complete agony of defeat,  and the all-encompassing anger of a bad call or a selfish player. And I also learned that I was always a Hawk, not just at practice or during a game. However, at this time, I was still a Gator, Sooner, and Bear on Saturday mornings. On Sundays, I was still a Dolphin, but a rift was growing between my dad (my Dolphin connection) and Dan Marino, not a real one, but a problem of perception, which was so much worse. It was also during this time that Orlando added the Magic and I became Florida Marlin fan 9997. It was really starting to get complicated, I was starting to get confused, and the amount of fan paraphanelia was really starting to grow.

  I, then graduated and didn't stray far and became a Bear at a different school, but at least the mascot didn't change. My life became a little less complicated because my Sundays were freed up (Marino and my dad broke up), I left my Hawk days behind, Shaq lied to me (well, not exactly to me, but all of Orlando), the Marlins won the World Series, but then promptly sold its whole team, and my brother graduated and left me to be the sole Bear. I was still a Sooner, a Yankee, and a Gator, but on the surface, I spent the next four years pushing forward as part of the very vicious and competitive "Orange and Black" attack.

     Four and a half years flies by when you are a Bear, and it is here that I learned that being a Bear was not just a four year commitment, but I was to be Bear until I passed from this life. It was also during my Mercer days, that I also grew into more of an anything Florida fan. I guess this was because Mercer was in Georgia and they hated all things Florida and loved all things weird and strange. So, I discovered that it was just nice to watch a Florida team win. It felt like I was winning, even when the Gators, Bears, Marlins, etc weren't.

   After graduation, I discovered, that what they had been telling me was true and that I still felt like a Bear. However, things were about to take a very complex turn. I got a job as a soccer and basketball coach at the now defunct Blue Lake Academy and I became an Eagle. I won as an Eagle, I lost as an Eagle, went into the home of an opponent and won, and had the reverse happen. But it was at BLA where I learned that you were always an Eagle, which made it weird because I was also still a Bear, but on Saturdays, I was still a Gator, and on other days, I was still a Marlin. Then things got very weird.

    I got my first teaching job and became a Providence Christian School Eagle, which was weird because I had been an Eagle already, but this was a different Eagle and in a much different place. And being a BLA Eagle was so much different that being a PCS Eagle, but I tried to make the best of it and not shout go BLA when I was supposed to be cheering for PCS and I succeded most of the time. And so, I spent the next three full years living and dying as an Eagle. There were weekday night basketball games, Friday night football games, and Saturday morning XC meets. I got my XC runners to cheer for PCS, run for PCS, and live for PCS. We conquered and soared over some courses and meets and then there were times when the eagle was shot down and we crashed, but we were always PCS Eagles. But I was also still routing for the Bears, Gators, Marlins, and many other teams and to make things more complex, I got married to a girl from Georgia who brought her team mascots with her and I, now through some odd connections was a Brave, a Bulldog (or Bulldawg as they say in GA), and a Hurricane. I was starting really wonder who I was really routing for and when I was suppose to be cheering for them. I thought that things couldn't get weirder or more murky, but boy was I wrong.

  My wife and I then moved to the Peach State and I became a Viking at a new school, which I never did understand. (Vikings were never "Christian" and are known for doing all things not popular in Christian circles.) Well, needless to say, I drank the Red and Black koolaid and left behind the Eagle life and fully became a Viking. I, once again had a whole week team. I, once again was told that I was always a Viking (or a Vic for those of you female types). I, once again had a XC and track team to train in the ways of Vikingness. And train the children in the Viking way I did with my whole heart and did so for three years. I bled read and black. I then got traded. That was last May. I kept my paraphnelia, but had to give it back because the red and black didn't bring me joy anymore. It just got too weird. I moved on and left the Vikings behind. I was to be a Viking no more.

   It was also during these three years that I gave up the Marlins. They had changed. I didn't recognize them anymore. We parted ways, we both needed our space. I replaced them with the Braves. My wife taught me how to tomahawk chop and who Chipper Jones was. She also made me glad that Javy Lopez was long gone. But I was also still a Gator, a Sooner, and a Mercer Bear.

    Two weeks ago, I started a new job and with that new job came a new mascot. I am now a Ram. I forget sometimes and things become a little awkward. Let me explain, last week my cross country was halfway through a speed workout and my little runners started cheering for the last ones coming in and they kept yelling, "Go Rams, finish strong Rams" and all I was thinking was, "Who the heck are the Rams, we aren't". but then I caught myself and realized that we were the Rams. I was a Ram. And then again, last Saturday, I counted to three and went to cheer with the team and I almost yelled, "FPD win", but caught myself and yelled, "CA Rams". I have only been a Ram for 13 days. so I'm still learning how to be one, but it seems like it is a good life to be a Ram.

  So, I say all of this to say that mascots are a funny thing. And I often forget who I'm supposed to be cheering for because I have held allegiances to so many different teams. Do you ever get confused? Do you ever wonder how you can cheer for so many different teams?

Learning to bleed red and blue,
David

East of Eden--A Book Review

    You open the front cover of Steinbeck's magnum opus, East of Eden, and one finds this on the front page and you instantly know that the book you currently hold in your hands is so much more than just a mere page turner or a book to mark off that you have now read:

Pascal Covici

Dear Pat,

    You came upon me carving some kind of little figure out of wood and you said, "Why don't you make something for me?"

     I asked you what you wanted, and you said, "A box."

     "What for?"

     "To put things in."

     "What things?"

     "Whatever you have," you said.

     Well, here's your box. Nearly everything I have is in it, and it is not full. Pain and excitement are in it, and feeling good or bad and evil thoughts and good thoughts-the pleasure of design and some despair and the indescribable joy of creation.

     And on top of these are all the gratitude and love I have for you.

     And still the box is not full.

                                                  John

  And so begins John Steinbeck's, East of Eden. Even in a simple dedication, Steinbeck pushes his pencil ahead and a tone is set. I have no plan on writing a full review of this book. That has already been done by far better writers than I and far more educated folks than I. I will only say that out of all the books I have had the pleasure of reading (which is far too small of a number) this book is one that will stay with me for as long as I live. I can only think of four other books (The Beautiful and the Damned, The Ballad of the Sad Cafe, Into the Wild, and The Violent Bear It Away)  that have left such a heavy impression of me while I was amongst their pages. There were times while I was reading that I became so burdened by the plight of the characters that I had to set the book down, go outside, and search for something that was both fresh and good.

  Simply put, East of Eden, is Steinbeck's book about good and evil. He believed that all men had only one book that they were ever truly trying to write and this was his. All of his previous works, were only a warming up exercise in order to prepare his mind and heart for the words that he felt compelled to write. (I wish I could warm up to write by churning out, The Grapes of Wrath, too.) The words that are found between the covers are not new, they are not groundbreaking, they do not push the envelope, they are not those of an intellectual, but they are words that only a true master craftsman would know how to properly use. He does not attempt to write a story, but rather he attempts to sculpt, to carve, to mold a parable. It is not a small story, but rather it is the story of the whole of humanity. It is every man's story and yet, it is also only his story. It is a very complex story with no easy beginning and with no easy end, but it is also a very simple story with a clear beginning and end. It is the history of all humans, where each man and woman is full of good and evil. It is where all humans are a reflection of all that is good and all that is bad.

  Steinbeck tells his tale through a cast of unforgettable characters and puts them in the place he knows the best, the Salinas Valley of California. It is the land of his past, present, and future. It is a land that was made by his ancestors and a land that made them. Which is an important detail because half the novel is also about Steinbeck's own, real family, the Hamilton's. He follows two families through their lives as they move from youth to old age, have kids, interact, have good times and bad. He does this in such a simple manner of writing that you are in the story far too deep before you actually realize that he is also writing about a much larger topic. He does this because he was really writing the book for his two sons, so that they could have a book that would grow with them as they grew and that it would be a book they could turn to in all of life's many stages and find something and someone new because they too were new and were somewhere new.

  It would be foolish to only see this novel as an account of the Hamilton's and the Trask's. It would also be foolish to only try to find the hidden comparisons of a deeper meaning in the names and the links one can see to the Biblical characters and stories of Cain and Abel, and Jacob and Esau. This latter point gets me the most. I have heard far too many Christian speakers use this book in their prayers and sermons when they have only read it to get the "Christian" things out it. In my opinion (which maybe very wrong) that would both limit the scope and breadth of Steinbeck and God. Steinbeck was writing about both and even more. God is not only in the "Christianly" things, He is in all things. He is the Creator behind all creativity. He is the Truth behind all truth seen, heard, written about. He is the Beauty observed in all art. He created all things, not just the things we have molded and given the title as being "Christian" or secular. He created all things and is redeeming them back to Him.

     Steinbeck, I believe, was writing about how all men are microcosms of the whole and I feel the Bible is also written from this view. We are all Adam and Eve. We are all Peter and Thomas. We are all Mary and Martha. We would have all had to leave the Garden for something more foolish and limited as eating fruit. We would have all gone for something fleeting instead of getting to walk in the cool of the day with the Creator. We would have all been discontent with perfection. We are all made in the image of God and yet, we are all separated from Him. We are both evil and good. We are all born and live our lives "East of Eden" and yet, there is a glory and judgement ahead of us that none of us will be truly prepared for.

"I believe that there is one story in the world, and only one. . . . Humans are caught—in their lives, in their thoughts, in their hungers and ambitions, in their avarice and cruelty, and in their kindness and generosity too—in a net of good and evil. . . . There is no other story. A man, after he has brushed off the dust and chips of his life, will have left only the hard, clean questions: Was it good or was it evil? Have I done well—or ill?"

— John Steinbeck (East of Eden)

Put down the book you are currently wasting your time on and get to reading this book now! (or at least next.)

David

  

The Atlanta Marathon

         Last November, I crossed the finish line of my first and only marathon and into the arms of my wonderful wife. I had spent the last 3+ hours running and she had spent the last 3+ hours riding a school bus around the course trying to see me at miles 4, 10, 13, 19, and the finish. As I sat on the ground eating my slice of pizza and drinking six cups of Coke, I tried to get my mind around the fact that I had just run 26.2 miles. Even though my body ached, it didn't seem real. It still doesn't. The only other thought that was moving through my head was that I had run my first marathon and that was enough. I didn't need to be like those crazy folks that ran several marathons a year or the guy that Mel and I know who has run a marathon in all 50 states. I didn't need to try and join the slim, rare ranks of the Marathon Maniacs. I sat there and was content in what I had just done. I had run a decent marathon, not blazing fast and not slow, but I had run a marathon in a time that I could be proud of. I got in the car. Mel drove me home. It was all enough.

    Then something began to slowly happen to me and inside my head, as soon as my legs healed and I began to run again. I hardly noticed it because it happened in such small, seemingly invisible strides. First, with small runs and then built on that. Pretty soon I was back to my normal number of miles. I then took off on a Sunday afternoon and decided to run until I got tired. I ran 11 miles and met Mel in a Kroger parking lot and she took me to get some ice cream. (Why am I so lucky?) While I was running, the farther I ran, the better I felt and somewhere between miles 5-11, I decided to try and run another marathon. At first, I thought it was the endorphins talking, but then realized it was a very good idea.

    Now that I had decided to try another marathon, there was plenty to do. First, I needed to warm my wife up to the idea of an 18 week training schedule and regime. This is time consuming and the spouse of anyone training for a marathon ends up doing the "trainee" a lot of favors or as Mel and I call them, "solids". Second, I had to find a good marathon to run. And with the number of marathons around these days, this is no easy task. Trust me. And lastly, I had to find the right marathon training plan or see if I could just train myself.

   Mel warmed up to my marathon idea pretty quickly. She is very gracious about this kind of thing. She is forever picking me up at different places that I run to, bringing me water, riding beside me on her bike, etc. And she always asks me how my runs go and making sure I'm okay. As I mentioned earlier, why am I so lucky? Her only question was could she please get some good, warm coffee to hold onto while I run and maybe peak her head into H&M clothing store while I am out there on the course. (The Atlanta Marathon starts and finishes at Atlantic Station in ATL.) Of course she can. Talk spouse into running a marathon after I'd promised her that one would be more than enough, check.

   Choosing the right marathon is not an easy task. Choosing from over 625 national marathons (according to the Wall Street Journal) makes finding the right one seem like finding your running shoes in the dark with only one contact in. However, I thought about all my needs and then it became easy. I wanted a big city, cheap registration, not too far away from home, a challenging course, and a good place for my #1 fan to watch me. All of this seems like a lot to want, but I found it close by in the city of Hotlanta (where the playa's play. I hope I see Luda' while running.). The Atlanta Track Club has reorganized a full marathon in Atlanta based on the 1996 Olympic marathon course. I signed up quickly and even used my ATC membership discount to get a few bucks off the fee. Find a good marathon that is not too expensive and not too far away from home, check.

    Now, came the hardest part. Training for a marathon is one of the most all-consuming things I have ever done. You are forever thinking or dwelling on it. A good run makes you have delusions of grandeur. A bad run makes you see yourself having to quit 3 miles into the race. You are forever trying to gauge your fitness, what you eat, how much you should worry about missing a run, talking yourself out of bed in the early morning, etc. And then trying to find a training plan is like being lost in a bad corn maze. If you don't believe me, try "Googling" marathon training plans and see how many results you get. I decided against the Ryan Hall idea of being my own coach. I don't listen to him so well and he is a big know-it-all. Just don't tell him that you heard all that from me. After looking at several plans, reading at Runner's World too many times, talking to some marathoning friends of mine, and checking some books out from the library, I ran into a plan from the Hanson brothers. They coach the Hanson-Brooks Distance Project which has produced marathon greats Desiree Davilia and Brian Sell. They have a "less is more" approach to marathon training and so I pulled the proverbial trigger. I now had a marathon training plan, check.

 Well, I am now in my 8th week of marathon training and things are going okay. I am up to running between 30-40 miles a week and that number is rising. I pretty pleased with it all besides the current high heat that has been in Macon since early June. I am sure you can empathize. It makes me feel like I'm really moving, but then I look down at my watch and I'm moving at a pace right above moseying. Well, there it is. I am going to run a second marathon. It feels weird even to be typing that.

Do you have any fall marathon or race plans? Let me know. We can commiserate.

David 

Nothing to Lose

     During the last two and half months, my Bible study has been reading the book, Dual Citizens: Worship and Life between the Already and Not Yet, by Jason J. Stellman. One of main points that Mr. Stellman continuously comes back to is this idea of all Christians being or becoming a "pilgrim". His shaping of this "pilgrim" is very similar to Bunyan's main character in, Pilgrim's Progress. Even though this idea has been around a very long time, it is still a very foreign idea for most of us. His basis comes from Christ's call for His followers to "lose their lives in order to gain it" and "that one must die to himself, in order to really live..". All of this centers around the idea that it is not "our" own life that we are living, but Christ's and we have a purpose for living and that is to bring glory to God. However, most of us live as tourists in this world. We spend our time trying to see the sights or experience all this place has to offer. Anyway, my Bible study leader gave us this quote to us to think about. To say it was humbling would be a vast understatement. So, my question for you is, how are you living your life? Sad to say, I am living most of my life like I am like I have everything to lose. Well, here is the exert, what do you think?

"If we are exiles and refugees on earth (1 Peter 2:11), and if our citizenship is in heaven (Philippians 3:20), and if nothing can separate us from the love of Christ (Romans 8:35), and if all hardship is working for us as eternal weight of glory (2 Corinthians 4:17), then we will give to winds our fears and "seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness" (Matthew 6:33). We will count everything as rubbish in comparison with Christ (Philippians 3:7-8). We will "joyfully accept the plundering of our property" for the sake of unpopular acts of mercy (Hebrews 10:34). We will choose "rather to be mistreated with the people of God than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin," and we will will count" the reproach of Christ greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt" (Hebrews 11:25-26)."

                                                  --John Piper, Don't Waste Your Life. (pg 108)

David

Team Dark--A Running Team Update

   About a month ago, I relayed to you, my loyal readers, that I desired to be a "long distance coach". This idea came from several articles that I read where notable coaches from around the country and the world coached athletes from afar. They did this through email updates, useful websites, training plans, and by phone. However, each of these coaches charges a hefty sum for doing so. The cheapest being around $300 for six months of coaching. And I guess that is okay since they have a national reputation and have coached athletes to the Olympics and other prestigious race events. I, on the other hand, have not done this, but I have coached running for the seven years to some local success. I don't know everything about running, but am willing to learn more. So, several people, four to be exact, took the risk and joined Team Dark. They are training for two separate races and their training is underway. I have made them four separate training plans for them and have been getting status updates from them. You may have seen some of their comments on Facebook as they were trying to hide their love for their training plans. Let's meet the team:

Celia Bass: Team Dark's First Timer.
Distance = 5K
Race: Dash for Dogs 5K, October 29, 2011: Sanford, Fl

Amy Bass: 3rd Race under my coaching efforts.
Distance = 5K
Race: Dash for Dogs 5K, October 29, 2011: Sanford, Fl



Susan Dark: 1st Race under my coaching efforts.

Distance = 5K

Race: Dash for Dogs 5K, October 29, 2011: Sanford, Fl

Sarah Uhrik: A 1st Time Marathoner in Training.
Distance = Marathon
Race: 2012 Chicago Marathon

     So, there you have it. This is my little team and each of them have different goals and desires when it comes to the races that each of them are training for. I am very excited to be leading and following their progress over the next several months. There is still room on the team! Join today and keep a look out for the next Team Dark Update.

Happy Running,
David or "Coach Dark"

Hail to the Summer

    When I began teaching, I heard a saying from an elderly teacher, who was teaching through his last year, that I thought was very funny. It goes something like this, "There are three main reasons that most teachers, teach and they are June, July, and August." You may have heard it told another way, but it is basically all the same, teachers need the summer. I didn't quite understand then, but  every year I teach, the more I need the summer.

   

     If you are a teacher, you will understand. It's not that teaching is harder than any other job, it's that it is so different. It is all-consuming. You don't leave it at work. You aren't "through with it at the end of your shift". You bring it home. You bring it on vacation. You prepare for it over the breaks. You grade over the holidays. You take classes during the summer. It is like in Spanish the difference between the two verbs for the phrase, "to be: ser o estar". One is that you happen to be a construction worker, or you are going to be at the grocery store and the other is that you are in love or you believe something whole-heartedly. Teaching is this whole-heart thing that makes you and you make it. Or, that is at least how I feel.

    So, as the time approaches for school to begin anew like a freight train that I think I can even hear in the night, I want to say: Hail to the Summer. They are two wonderful months. We sleep late. I don't have to shave. We stay up late. We work at Camp. We watch an unhealthy amount of Netflix. I smoke my pipe. We swim in the river. We read books that we scorn at the rest of the year. We have breakfasts that last several hours. We drink pots of coffee. We see family. We eat more ice cream than we should and wash it down with Cherry Cokes. We garden. We hide from the heat. We go on vacations courtesy of our too-gracious families. We really live it up. We rediscover all the things that are put on the backburner the other 10 months of the year. It is the summertime and it is awesome. I am so glad to get to be a teacher and have the time off. I know it is a priviledge.

  The reason for this post is to celebrate Summer and to acknowledge the fact that I haven't posted in a while. I know. I hope I was missed, but understand if I wasn't.  I've been too busy with a variety of time-filling activities or "units of time" as Hugh Grant calls them in the movie, "About a Boy". And I hope you have been too. But now, I'm back and I'm rested and ready to write. I hope you are ready to read and comment.

Still Celebrating 4 days of Summer,

David