Chasing Roger Bannister: The Prequel

Sometime during my elementary school years, my father got the crazy notion to start running.

It might have been a kind of mid-life crisis, or maybe it was a grasp at past glory. Dad was the quintessential 4-sport jock in high school, and perhaps he wanted to recapture the athletic mojo that had long since given way to the burdens of grown-up responsibility. Maybe he just wanted to drop a few pounds or shake up his daily routine a bit. Whatever his motivation (I never really pressed him for a reason), he announced to the family that he was going to start jogging through our neighborhood a few mornings per week.

That’s when an even crazier thing happened: I asked if I could join him.

To this day, I don’t even know what my own motivation was for my impromptu request. I was always an athletic kid, but distance running had never been part of my repertoire - in fact, I pretty much hated it. And yet, some small corner of my brain harbored this romanticized notion of the long-distance runner: the solitary figure persevering against time and distance and fatigue and all manner of weather, as well as any other obstacles that lie ahead. So I woke up early to lace up my shoes and start training with my dad, and to begin my own metamorphosis into the strong, resilient, self-reliant man I was eager to become.

The whole experiment lasted less than two weeks.

Both of us quickly realized that this running thing was a bit more work than we wanted to handle in the early mornings. I lasted just a few runs before I decided I had much better things to do before school – namely, sleeping - and Dad only lasted another handful of days before eventually giving up on the whole idea. Before long, we were both back to our regular routines.

(What’s even more embarrassing in hindsight is just how short our “long distance” mileage was. We had a 1-mile loop through our neighborhood; on those mornings, Dad and I did two laps together, and he did one additional lap without me. No one would have pegged either of us as a future ultrarunner, that’s for sure.)

I can’t exactly say that those mornings were building blocks for any of the experiences I would later enjoy as a distance runner – but my Dad did plant the seed for something I would later become obsessed with. Namely, he told me the story of Roger Bannister.

In particular, he recommended that I read The Four-Minute Mile, Bannister’s autobiography of his brilliant, all-too-brief running career. I checked the book out of the library – and at first, I wasn’t terribly impressed. I enjoyed reading Bannister’s first-hand account of what was arguably the most heroic sporting feat of all time, but much of the other information about his training program or his personal philosophies about athletics and life were pretty much lost on me (remember, I was like 10 or 11 at the time).

It wasn’t until I grew up that I took the full measure of Bannister’s life and exploits – and his story has resonated with me ever since.

This May will mark the 55th anniversary of what many people – myself included – still call the greatest athletic achievement in the history of mankind: Roger Bannister’s breaking the four-minute barrier in the mile. It’s the sporting world’s version of landing a man on the moon: a moment so simultaneously unbelievable and inspirational that it changed all the rules we ever learned about the limits of human accomplishment.


Five years ago, to mark the 50th anniversary, I wanted some way to pay tribute to the event that captured my imagination first as a child, and even more strongly as an adult. In the meantime, I had become hooked on marathons – somehow, that feckless young boy had grown into the distance runner he naively aspired to be – so the decision came fairly easily: for one season, I’d train for and race the mile, just like Bannister did.

Well … it wasn’t quite like Bannister did; obviously, I didn’t have any delusions that I could ever approach running a four-minute mile. Five minutes, on the other hand, seemed possibly attainable. Daunting and terrifying, but attainable.

As you can imagine, I wrote about the experience – a whole series of articles (10 in all) that I posted on my long-extinct former website, that I’m going to republish in rapid fashion on this page, starting later this week. They’re equal parts training diary and historical overview of what was once the most glamorous race in the world. They’re also the ultimate, most tangible result of that brief period of time that my father and I ran together. Those mornings didn’t last long, but they were enough to instill something that would eventually lead to one of the most memorable summers of my life.

And if either Dad or I had predicted such a thing back then, we both would have cracked up laughing.


See the remainder of this series on sidebar at right.

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MyTach GPS Sports Watch Review

At first glance, it may seem disingenuous of me to promote a new GPS device on the market – after all, I’m on record as feeling generally ambivalent about the necessity of GPS gadgetry for distance runners.

However, when I was contacted by a company called AIM to test their MyTach GPS Sports Training Watch, I jumped at the opportunity for a couple of reasons:

1) They’re an Italian company, which makes them paisan to me. And I was taught to never deny a request from the motherland – it’s right up there with “never take sides against the family” in the Italian rulebook.

2) I’ve always been curious as to whether my running would be impacted by using a GPS – and this was a great opportunity to try it.

Oh, one more thing …

3) I love doing product reviews. I’ve mentioned that before, haven’t I?

I received the gadget in the mail just before Christmas, so I’ve had plenty of opportunities to use it. For this review, I also enlisted the help of some partners, as I’ll explain shortly.

AIM is headquartered in Milan, Italy – and based on a review of their website, they are primarily known for motorsport (dragsters, motorbikes, Formula 1, etc) applications instead of endurance sports. In fact, some of the data measurements seem more applicable to engine performance than ultrarunning – but that could just be a case of me wanting to keep things simple.

When the MyTach package arrived, my goal was to see if I could charge it up and figure out how to use it without wading through a complicated manual – that’s my little test of any gadget’s user-friendliness. I’d say I figured out about 80% of it on my own – which is a good thing, as the user’s manual (both paper and online) has several strange phrases that obviously lost some clarity when they were spit out of the Italian-to-English Google translator.

Fortunately, it didn’t take me long to customize the screens I wanted and head out the door for some running – and that’s when I solicited my training partners’ input as well.

Obviously, when talking about running GPS devices, the first name on everyone’s mind is Garmin. A few of my friends use the Forerunner 305 and 405 models, and one of my main goals for this review was to see how the MyTach compared – both in form and function – to the more prevalent Garmins.

So basically, I started bugging the crap out of them. Before we’d start a run, I’d ask, “Do you have your satellites yet?” and “What’s your altitude right here?” When we broke into a jog, I’d say “What’s your pace right now?” Every quarter-mile or so, I’d ask “What distance do you have?”, and when we were under tree cover, I’d say “Are you still picking up your signal?” I became quite skilled at turning a 6-mile trail run into a 1-hour quiz show. Finally, after each run, we’d compare all of the cumulative data as well.

Having said that, let’s do some comparisons:

1) Form:

Here’s a picture of the MyTach next to the Forerunner 305 from the top …

(Note that my GPS - on left - reads 0.2 miles longer than the Garmin. More on that to come.)

And one from the side:

(MyTach on left, Forerunner on right)

Size-wise, it’s not dramatically different. However, the MyTach isn’t contoured like the Forerunner, which may be a factor for some people. I’ve worn the MyTach for runs of over three hours, and comfort wasn’t really an issue for me. From website information on both brands, the MyTach is listed as slightly lighter than the 305, but since I don’t own a postage scale, I can’t independently confirm this claim.

2) Function

This part was interesting to me: almost across the board, the MyTach picked up signals quicker than the Forerunner (typically within 5-10 seconds), and kept the signal locked in even under heavy tree cover. On its website, MyTach advertises something called FCHS (Fast Connection High Sensitivity) technology; honestly, I don’t know enough about how satellite science works – does the MyTach use different satellites? Does it have a superior internal antenna or tracking device? – to explain the improvement, but I can tell you that it’s noticeable.

However, it’s not just gathering the signals that’s important – it’s what the device does with them. Which leads us to …

3) Accuracy

If signal tracking was the best surprise from the MyTach, accuracy was the most bothersome. Basically, I don’t know whether the numbers are right.

Distance-wise, in comparison with the Forerunner, my distance readings were generally about 0.1 mile off per every 3 or 4 miles of running. Remember the mileage discrepancy in the previous picture? My friend and I did the exact same route that day; my watch read 6.2 miles, and his read 6.0. Two-tenths per 6 miles isn't huge - but if you’re doing a 3-hour run, it can lead to a large degree of error. Interestingly, the MyTach mileage was always higher – so I chose to believe those numbers instead of the stingy Garmin readings. Call me opportunistic.

The altitude readings between the devices showed a similar discrepancy – in most cases, the MyTach readings were lower than the Forerunner, sometimes by more than 100 feet. One day, I ran to the top of a hill with a signpost marking 1800’ above sea level, and my GPS said 1680’. Again, there might be some scientific explanation for this, and the MyTach readings might actually be the accurate ones – but I don’t know enough about the technology to speculate on this.

I found myself lamenting that the MyTach accuracy might be questionable, because the sheer volume of data it collects is quite impressive. Some of this information is stuff that I either couldn’t decipher (for example, the unit for time stoppage is written as cm – is this a European measure I’m not aware of?) or didn’t understand (what exactly is a variometer, anyway?), but a lot of it seems like it would be extremely cool for data geeks out there. If you select the cycling mode, you also get information about current slope and total height differential – a nice feature for people who like to track cumulative elevation change on a run.

4) Extras

The accessories for the MyTach are very similar to other GPS devices on the market. It comes with a combination USB port/wall-charging dock, and fully charges in about an hour. Battery life with the GPS operating is listed at 9 hours. There is a downloadable software program on the MyTach website that interfaces with Google Earth for mapping your route after a run. The memory storage is “rolling”, meaning it replaces the oldest stuff with new data as it gets full. Its capacity in this regard seems pretty good – I currently have about 10 different runs stored on mine, and none of them have been reset yet. The unit also comes with a handlebar mounting system for bikes, so it would be ideal for a bike/run workout similar to some of the high-end Polar GPS devices.

5) Price

From what I can tell, MyTach is only available for purchase through the company website, where it retails for 195 Euros (currently 253 US dollars) – and this might be its biggest obstacle to breaking into the North American market. That price puts it almost $100 higher than the Garmin Forerunner 305, and nearly as expensive as the Forerunner 405, which has staked its claim as the ultimate next-generation wrist-mounted GPS device.


Overall, the MyTach is different than the Garmins – in some ways better, in other ways worse - but it doesn’t blow them out of the water. I imagine that a significantly lower price point is probably necessary for it to steal some attention and market share away from the industry standard.


See previous product reviews on sidebar at right. If you have a product you’d like reviewed, contact me at info@runningandrambling.com.

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Speedwork For Losers

Having more or less embraced the rigors of consistent training again this month, it seemed only fitting that I should stop by the track for some speed work. However, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to the experience.

And had I known that I’d get teased by two overweight ladies in the process, I would have dreaded it even more.

First, some background: like most distance runners, I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with track workouts. Even when my fitness is at its peak, I’ve never known them to be a pleasurable experience.

After all, the very point is to push beyond your comfort zone, running specific distances at the fastest speed you can consistently maintain. Such an effort stimulates your body into producing necessary adaptations that make your next attempt at the same speed incrementally easier. And when those adaptations happen, you push beyond them again, and again, and over and over as many times as you can tolerate over the course of a training cycle.

In other words, the workout’s not for sissies. And occasionally, I suppose I’m guilty of wearing my effort on my sleeve.

That was the case on Monday, as I did a set of 8 x 400m intervals with a one-lap rest between them. The first few were a controlled effort, but as my legs grew heavier and my lungs burned hotter with each passing interval, my breathing became deeper and more audible, and my laboring became more noticeable to other people around the track.

In particular, my efforts caught the attention of a pair of ladies sitting in the first row of bleachers directly in front of my start/finish line. I had briefly noticed them while I was warming up – a pair of “heavy but not yet obese” walkers in their mid-twenties, wearing cotton sweats and chatting their way through a few laps before sitting down to continue their conversation at the end of the home straight.

They remained there as I finished lap after lap, looking and sounding worse with each passing interval. Finally, after my final 400m, I let out a loud gasp and staggered a few steps onto the infield. It was shortly after I leaned onto a tall fence to hold me upright while I kept panting that I heard one of my spectators say this to the other:

“He sounds like one of those people on The Biggest Loser.”

And then they both giggled.

Now … before you think this is turning into an insult-fest between me and two chubby antagonists, I’ll say this: I took the high road. I caught my breath for a few more seconds before glancing in their direction and shuffling into some cool-down laps. At first I took the comment as a simple amusement – but then I was reminded of my favorite TBL moment thus far this season, and I thought there might actually be some truth to their remark.

That moment is in the video clip that follows – it’s trainer Bob’s meltdown with slacker Joelle, as he implores her to, essentially, harden the F up and push through a simple workout. If you don’t like bleeped-out F-bombs, you might want to skip this video. If, on the other hand, you love them like I do, feel free to indulge here (click to play):



That may be the coolest four minutes of TV I’ve seen this year (at least until tonight’s Lost premiere – but that’s a separate post). And you know what? Those ladies at the track were right: I am like one of those people on The Biggest Loser. But it’s not Joelle – it’s Bob.

At least, I’m leaning towards Bob more and more lately. Sure – during the off season, my inner Joelle breaks loose and invades the cookie jar and devours anything in sight while simultaneously hogtying my body to the mattress each morning – but both she and I know that it’s only a temporary reign. And now is the time when I traditionally run her down into submission, and tuck her back into the tiny box in the far recesses of my mind that she’ll occupy for the next seven months or so.

Finally, speaking of time, and so I can paraphrase Bob from the above video … guess how long most of my 400m intervals took!

EIGHTY F**KING SECONDS!! (Clapping my hands slowly now) EIGHTY! F**KING! SECONDS!!

Not that that’s particularly fast or slow – I just like to *almost* swear every now and then. It’s one more little thing that helps me to feel tough. At this point, I'll use whatever motivation I can get.

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Pride

"Free at last! They took your life -

They could not take your pride."

- U2, "Pride (In the Name of Love)"

Two years ago, I described (in this post) how two of my kids, then-aged 8 and 5, sat and watched a YouTube video of Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in August of 1963. I marveled at the beauty of the information age, and the way my children could become so easily familiar with a historic moment that I didn’t see in its entirety until I was in college.

(That’s the way it should be, really – in fact, the speech should be required viewing for all Americans. I’d embed it here – but I really like one website I found that features the text along with the video. So your civic duty for today is to click there and contemplate Dr King’s words – I’ll link to the site when we’re done.)

What I never imagined, however, was how my kids would see the hope and idealism of Dr King’s words come to fruition so quickly in their young lifetimes.

Over the next 48 hours, our children will witness what could perhaps be the most historic confluence of occasions this country has ever seen: the national holiday recognizing a man who gave his life for peace and equality, and the inauguration of a President who is the embodiment of that long-elusive dream.

Honestly, I have no idea what kind of leader President Obama will become. What’s indisputable, though, is this: as he stands at the podium delivering his inaugural address, after taking the oath of office on Lincoln’s Bible, with the memorial where Reverend King inspired millions gleaming across the National Mall in the distance, it will represent a watershed moment in the history of this country. Echoes of the past will meet the promise of the future head on, and a new era of hope and possibility – one that many of us never imagined we’d see - will have finally dawned.

So how do you explain all of these ramifications to grade school kids? In all likelihood, you can’t. I guess you just make sure they make note of the occasions, then explain the long, treacherous journey that brought us to this point in small doses as they grow old enough to appreciate them.

For those of us who are old enough to understand, though, the meaning of these two days is undeniable. If MLK were here to see it, one imagines that his heart would soar with pride.

And since we’re on the subject of pride, and Dr King – and since I seem to be featuring a certain band (who happened to play at this weekend's inauguration party) on this blog quite a bit lately - there’s one inevitable choice for today’s video selection: it’s my favorite version of U2’s “Pride (In the Name of Love)”, recorded live for the 1988 film Rattle and Hum:



Afterwards, go watch Martin Luther King’s speech for yourself, and remember to appreciate the times we're living in today. We still have some work to do, but we're closer now than we've ever been before.

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Running With The Raven

If you’re a runner and haven’t heard of Robert “The Raven” Kraft, chances are that you might in the near future.

Kraft is perhaps the best-known of a growing club of “streakers” – people who run every single day, for months and years and even decades at a time. Streakers have their own national organization, and several websites maintain “official” listings of the longest ongoing streaks all over the world (The Raven is currently ranked #11).

The Raven is well-known primarily because 1) he has a streak of over 34 years, and 2) he’s quite skilled at self-promotion. He has a fairly information-dense website with his bio, pictures, and numerous press releases documenting his streak. He was the subject of a terrific in-depth profile by ESPN, who will return to film him as he approaches an upcoming landmark this spring (details below).

Perhaps what sets him apart the most, however, is how he welcomes and celebrates anybody who is able to join him on his daily 8-mile run. His website includes an open invitation to join the Raven - and that’s just what my friend Mike did during a recent vacation. Naturally, we turned it into a Monterey Herald article, which follows below.

Honestly, the whole notion of streaking seems ridiculous* to me, on too many levels to go into here. Nevertheless, I have to admit feeling a bit of admiration for The Raven, and the number of people all over the world whom he has influenced in a positive way. Many of us would like to inspire the masses; very few actually go out and do it. The Raven is one of them.

(*and on a similarly ridiculous note: I can't write about anything named "The Raven" without thinking of The Simpsons' brilliant spoof - featuring the immortal line "Quoth the Raven, 'Eat my shorts!'" - from their original Halloween episode in 1990. I'm the first to admit, my maturity level is sorely lacking - but as a childish indulgence, that video follows this post)

**
Running Life 1/15/09 "Running With The Raven"


On Jan. 1, 1975, 23-year-old Robert "The Raven" Kraft ran eight miles in the sand on Miami's South Beach. He started running because he felt frustrated that his songwriting career was at low ebb; one of his songs had been stolen and made into a fairly large country hit and he received no credit.

A funny thing happened that day; something that happens to a lot of new runners. Kraft was invigorated yet calm. His anger had mellowed, and he felt great satisfaction from those eight miles. Running often grabs you when you most need it.

He made running a habit. Many would call it an obsession. Amazingly, the Raven just completed his 34th year of running on South Beach without missing a day. That's over 12,400 days of running in a row.

Along the way, he's become a bit of a celebrity. He's an icon on Miami Beach, and his fan base extends around the world. People travel from far and wide to run with the Raven. He maintains a list of them — one that now approaches 800 runners, from every state and 54 foreign countries. To date, the Raven has run 99,300 miles, and should pass 100,000 on March 29. When he does, ESPN will be there to cover it.

In a sport where injuries are the norm, the Raven never misses a day to sickness or muscle pain. He runs through all kinds of weather: hurricanes, hail storms, heat and humidity. He's as reliable as the US Postal Service.

He came close to missing a run once, when he was hospitalized for a concussion and needed 17 stitches to close a nasty wound. Luckily, some lifeguard friends smuggled him out of the hospital for his daily run, then returned him after the eight miles were finished.

As you can imagine, Kraft is a creature of habit. He's called the Raven because he always wears Black spandex shorts, black socks, black headband, and one black wristband. He has long black hair, mustache, and beard. He always runs shirtless and has a dark tan.

The Raven's also a bit of a philosopher. He chose eight miles for his run because "seven seemed too short, and nine seemed too long." He runs the same eight miles each day, in loops starting from the 6th Street lifeguard pier. Sometimes he loops in one direction, sometimes the other. He never travels out of Miami; in fact, he doesn't even own a car.

The Raven never does races. He runs for the simple pleasure of how it makes him feel, although he admits that his streak has become an obsession.

Nicknames are a big part of his persona, as Mike and his family found out while running with the Raven on a vacation to South Beach a few weeks ago. During the run, the Raven questions you about your life, and anoints you with a nickname after you have completed the run. Then he inscribes you on "the list."

The day Mike ran there were a dozen runners who earned the nicknames Burke's Law, Chapter 11, The Reverend, Seaside Sparrow, Interrogator, Cooker, Tax Man, Wine Taster, and Unruly Julie. Mike is now known as Just Run, his wife is the Fiction Reader, his son Bryan is Pedicab Man, and Bryan's fiance Melanie is Zot.

It is a pleasure and an honor to run with the Raven. Next time you don't feel like running, take a page out of the Raven's book. We hope that he and you may run evermore.

**

"The Raven", from The Simpsons' Treehouse of Horror (click to play):

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ProWash Detergent Review

It’s product review time! But before I tell you about the product, you have to indulge me in a little story.

Sometime during her first pregnancy, something very odd, and somewhat life-changing happened to my wife. It was like something out of a superhero comic, like when Peter Parker was bit by the radioactive spider and developed special powers – only the abilities my wife took on weren’t nearly as cool as wall crawling or night vision.

Basically, she acquired a highly advanced sense of smell.

As strange as her superpower seems, it comes in handy fairly often. For example, as soon as we walk into the house, she can tell if our cat has thrown up while we were away. She has the undisputed final say as to the freshness of any item stocked in the fridge. And presumably, if our house ever sprung a gas leak, she’d be able to warn me before I inadvertently blew us to oblivion. It’s reassuring to have a resource like that in your corner.

However, when it comes to my running gear, her gift becomes a major annoyance.

When I come home from a run, I’m not allowed to go anywhere near her. When I hang clothes out to dry, she maintains a 10-foot radius from them at all times. And sometimes, even after I wash my clothes, she can tell that the odors aren’t completely gone.

So you can appreciate my interest in being asked, along with some fellow bloggers, to try a new product geared specifically at cleaning athletic wear. And when the sample of ProWash detergent arrived, we put it to quick use.

ProWash is supposedly formulated to clean the synthetic materials that comprise most running clothes – those garments that are great at wicking moisture, but also retain all the odor-causing bacteria that make your clothes reek long after they’ve aired dry.

ProWash can be used two ways: as the primary detergent for an entire load of laundry, or as a “booster” to the detergent you already use. I did my initial laundry load with just the ProWash, and used it as a supplement thereafter – which, considering the price (see below), would be my recommended method of use.

So how does it work? Honestly, I can’t really tell. I mean … it’s laundry detergent. You wash your clothes with it, and they smell better than when they started. My nose isn’t nearly sophisticated enough to appreciate the difference. That's why I'm deferring to an expert opinion.

My wife tells a different story. She claims that she noticed a difference with the first batch of laundry we did, and that it smelled cleaner than usual after we wash clothes. Perhaps most telling, however, is that she’s instructed me to keep using it. If I’m taking a batch of clothes to the washer, she’ll yell out, “Be sure to put some of that new stuff in there!”

So apparently, to discriminating noses, there’s a big difference. And when it comes to recommending ProWash, that’s probably the best, most informed endorsement I can offer.

ProWash isn’t exactly cheap – the best price I found was three 24-oz pouches for $23 at Amazon.com (where the product has a 4-star average rating). But if you use it as a supplement in small doses, or only with loads of technical fabric clothing, it can probably stretch a long way. (It’s also sold at Walmart, but I couldn’t find a listed price online.) The bottom line is, if you’re battling to get odors out of your running gear – or if your spouse has similar superhero traits as mine – it’s probably worth a try.

See other product reviews on right sidebar. If you'd like a product reviewed, contact me at info@runningandrambling.com.

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Getting Up Eight

“Fall seven times, get up eight.”
- Japanese proverb

I’ve been laboring a bit over the past couple of weeks to get back into the swing of this training business.

I know that gradually, things will get easier – but for now, I still struggle to drag myself out of bed in the early mornings, I’m reluctant to set aside more than a couple of hours for my weekend runs, and I dread trying to hang with a group of faster runners on a weekly 12-mile trail workout (which, now that I mention it, happens to be tomorrow. Ugh.). Right now, I just need to hang tough and know that my body will figure out the details in due time.

On a related note, I went bike riding with my youngest daughter last weekend.

She turned five last fall, and ever since then, she’s been bugging me on a nearly weekly basis to strip the training wheels off of her bike so she can ride on two wheels, like her brother and sister did when they were five. Last Saturday, she finally got her wish.

My teaching method for riding a two-wheeler is somewhat unorthodox (and in my humble opinion, kind of cool): I strap on a pair of rollerblades, and ride behind the bike, steadying it with one hand under the seat while my daughter pedals. When she starts balancing a little better, I gradually ease my grip until she’s riding without assistance. It’s a pretty decent method of providing just enough correction to avoid multiple knee-scraping crashes.

The process isn’t easy, though. My daughter and I spent the better part of an hour swerving all over the playground, with the bike tipping erratically to either side as she leaned too far in one direction or turned the handlebars excessively in the other. She occasionally got her legs tangled in the pedals, took a few scrapes from the chain, and picked herself off the asphalt far more times than she anticipated.

It was after one such instance, when she got up a little more slowly than usual, that I suggested we take a short break. That’s where we had the following exchanges:

Daughter: This is really hard.

Me: Yeah. It’s like this for everybody. It gets easier, though.

Daughter: [Brother and sister] crashed a lot too, right?

Me: Yup. That’s the way it works – you fall a lot of times, but you just keep trying, and eventually you learn how to do it.

Daughter: OK.


And then, about five seconds later …


Daughter: Dad?

Me: What?

Daughter: Are you ready to try again?

Me: You bet.


I can’t say that she made remarkable progress after that – but by the end of the day, she had a few brief rides without my hand on the seat, and that was enough to keep her encouraged to try again another day.

Resiliency, focus, determination – these qualities are in ample supply with most 5-year-olds; so why is it so hard to find those same characteristics in ourselves after we become adults? My daughter struggled with learning a two-wheeler, but it’s a complete no-brainer that she’s going to hang tough for a while and let her body figure out the details in due time. All I need to do is follow her example for a few weeks, and things will work out fine for me as well.

Sometimes when I’m trying to teach my kids something, I stop and wonder which of us is actually the one who needs the lesson. More often than I’d like to admit, it’s pretty much a coin flip in that regard.

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