I was getting around this morning, and an abstract memory popped into my thoughts. It was probably from 12 or so years ago. I had needed to sneeze, so I plugged my nose. My mom was doing some knitting or something at the kitchen island and said, "That's not good for you." I was curious (and probably a teenager) so I asked, "Why?" Her response has stuck with me. "Because you'll blow your brains out." She said it completely straight faced, without even looking up from her work. I've seldom known my mom to have a whip-smart sense of humor, so I was pretty confused.
Normally, my mother has a very medically sound reason for things, as she is a nurse. But this time was different. I think she did expand on her argument to support her initial claim, but I don't remember that stuff.
She also, being a good, cautious mother, usually assumed the worst.
Me: "Mom, I don't feel well."
Mom: "You probably have incurable cancer."
Me: "Mom, I have a stomach ache."
Mom: "You probably have incurable cancer."
Mom: "That cough doesn't sound good. You may have pneumonia."
Me: "Mom, lookit this scar I have from a sunburn!"
Mom: "It's probably skin cancer. Way to go."
Me: "Mom. I think I have incurable cancer."
Mom: "You're fine. Stop complaining and eat your breakfast."
Or as my father once said during a sermon, "Our family doesn't get headaches, we get brain-tumors."
Well for the most part, she was concerned. (She is very gifted at diagnosing the weird ailments I experience, even over skype.) I don't remember the real reason for not plugging your nose when you sneeze, but I've stopped.
I love you, mom.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Would you rather?
Would you rather wake up an hour before you needed to, or sleep an hour later than you planned to?
I'm awake this morning. But I shouldn't be. In my absentmindedness last night I set my alarm one hour earlier than I needed to. As I've been getting around, I've been feeling a little more fatigued than normal. I was even in my bathroom pondering how I can get up on 5 hours of sleep with no problem, but I could sleep 8 hours, and unless there's a pressing matter to get up for (i.e. school, work) I'm prone to abuse my snooze button.
This happened once last semester, although I didn't realize it until I was already at the bus stop and traffic seemed really light. It was 6am. The free buses don't start running until 7am. In that instance, though, I accidentally moved my clock ahead an hour in my sleep, so I thought it was the right time all morning.
Some things I've observed in this new semester:
60% of my psychology class believes in God.
9% of my psychology class believes in the creation theory.
I felt like those two percentages should have been a bit closer together.
Young men sometimes battle in a fashion similar to mountain goats. Two guys were having a heated discussion yesterday and they began leaning into each other with their heads and shoulders. Their arms were at their side. It looked more like an aggressive hug than a fight. But one leaned the other into a sign, and a more theatrically appropriate fight broke out, with wide, sweeping 'punches' and coat pulling (hoods were utilized, as well). I intervened before they embarrassed themselves any further. They obliged my firm request that they leave the campus.
In a class discussion one morning, I assumed my post in the front row as the classroom began filling up with students. Eventually, the entire room was filled except for two seats. The seat on my left, and the seat on my right. Normally, I'm a fan of having some elbow room in class, but this unusual phenomenon was somewhat disconcerting for me. I had showered that morning, and I even remembered a little cologne, but for some reason I was ostracized from the rest of the class. I will continue to study this in coming weeks.
I'm awake this morning. But I shouldn't be. In my absentmindedness last night I set my alarm one hour earlier than I needed to. As I've been getting around, I've been feeling a little more fatigued than normal. I was even in my bathroom pondering how I can get up on 5 hours of sleep with no problem, but I could sleep 8 hours, and unless there's a pressing matter to get up for (i.e. school, work) I'm prone to abuse my snooze button.
This happened once last semester, although I didn't realize it until I was already at the bus stop and traffic seemed really light. It was 6am. The free buses don't start running until 7am. In that instance, though, I accidentally moved my clock ahead an hour in my sleep, so I thought it was the right time all morning.
Some things I've observed in this new semester:
60% of my psychology class believes in God.
9% of my psychology class believes in the creation theory.
I felt like those two percentages should have been a bit closer together.
Young men sometimes battle in a fashion similar to mountain goats. Two guys were having a heated discussion yesterday and they began leaning into each other with their heads and shoulders. Their arms were at their side. It looked more like an aggressive hug than a fight. But one leaned the other into a sign, and a more theatrically appropriate fight broke out, with wide, sweeping 'punches' and coat pulling (hoods were utilized, as well). I intervened before they embarrassed themselves any further. They obliged my firm request that they leave the campus.
In a class discussion one morning, I assumed my post in the front row as the classroom began filling up with students. Eventually, the entire room was filled except for two seats. The seat on my left, and the seat on my right. Normally, I'm a fan of having some elbow room in class, but this unusual phenomenon was somewhat disconcerting for me. I had showered that morning, and I even remembered a little cologne, but for some reason I was ostracized from the rest of the class. I will continue to study this in coming weeks.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
The River Bank Run Miracle
The story you are about to read is true. Completely. Even the parts that you don't believe. Those especially are very, very true, and definitely happened. Here we go.
It was a dark and stormy.. wait no, that's not true. Okay, true from this point on. It was a chilly, overcast Saturday morning during the early spring in Grand Rapids, Michigan. The city was abuzz with energy because race day had finally arrived. *Pause* *rewind one day* It was a chilly, overcast Friday morning during the early spring in Grand Rapids, Michigan. The city was somewhat abuzz with energy because race day was only one day away.
Myself and two of my friends were signed up to participate in the 10k run event of the annual River Bank Run. 5k and 25k were also available, but 5k was too short, and the 25k would be impossible to finish. Impossible. It was myself, Rick, and Nick. I like this 10k because they have two clydesdale divisions. (over 190 lbs. and over 200 lbs.) I appreciate this because although I am by no means fast, when my finishing time is determined by body-weight, I trick myself into thinking I'm at least not slow.
I was the only one of the three runners who was planning to run the race at a higher than leisurely pace. I was also the only of the three runners who had run more than a few times in the months leading up to the race. That's why I needed to rewind one day. The night before the race, Nick called Rick. Nick had only run twice, I believe, in the weeks and months leading up to this day. Nick's phone call was an attempt to convince Rick to change their entry to the 5k run, if they even ran at all. Nick's left foot was also bothering him, which was a legitimate claim. ...This story is better understood if you are aware that a couple years earlier Nick was in a car accident. His vehicle exploded. Blown into pieces. (Don't believe it? Refer to the opening statement, please.) Nick barely survived, physically, but his mind was remarkably improved. Anyway, the heel pain was a residual effect of the fender bender he was in.
Rick staunchly refused to waver in his commitment to run the 10k and demanded that Nick man up and run it with him. Annnd I think now we can move forward to race day. So yeah, chilly, overcast and all that stuff.. Nick and I are on our way to the race. It's packed. This is the biggest 25k race in the U.S. On the way there Nick informed me that his right knee had now begun hurting. Also legitimate, but no excuse to not run 10 kilometers, right?
Parking was kinda crazy, so I dropped Nick off near registration and looked for a place to park, hoping for an open spot in the state of Michigan. I found one.
Meanwhile, Rick and his wife, Natalie, and their son, Lincoln had arrived, and were getting Rick registered. The plan was for all of us to register, give our registration things and warming layers to Natalie, and then run our hearts out. That was the plan. The Marine Corps taught me that the only thing you can plan on is that things will never go as planned. Nick had registered. I ran to the registration and signed up. I looked for Nick for quite some time. I found many other people I knew, but not the tallest person there. Rick had signed up, but I never saw him, either. The 10k race time was drawing nigh.
Finally Nick and I were able to link up with the aid of our cell phones. I quickly put the tag on my shoe, my number on my shorts, my phone in my race-goodie bag, and gave the bag to Nick. I figured that because I was actually hoping to finish well, I should get going. Selfish, perhaps, but justifiable.
At this point the stories of Rick, Nick, and Jonathan must depart, as I desire to keep the reader in the context of the story as it unfolded before me this day. I pushed through the mass of runners, trying to get somewhat close to my pace group. Too late. The horn blew. The race had begun. Three minutes later I crossed the starting line and began my agonizing half mile shuffle until the crowd thinned out. My wonderful race soundtrack that I programmed for every mile of the race was on shuffle, and my ipod was in this insane mode where if you shook it, it would skip to the next track. That little music plan of mine was quickly defeated as I skipped through songs every 3 seconds. I finally figured how how to swing my left arm so that the songs wouldn't skip, and got back to the task at hand.. being a fast clydesdale. I arrived at the first clock and realized my goal was impossible. I know finishing strong is key, but starting faster than a stroll is important as well. Nevertheless, I knew two girls who were running in the race, and I hadn't passed them yet, so in a panic I kept running, terrified that they may finish before me. (I'm a tad bit competitive.) At the halfway point I saw the girls parents, and they told me I was ahead of them. I relaxed. A little. I ran a little bit longer, and then I finished. Whee.
I was a few minutes off of my goal. I chose to look at it optimistically, though, and realized that I probably passed around 3,000 people during the race. I grabbed some water, a banana, and waited near the finish line for Rick and Nick. After a few minutes I saw the two girls I knew. I beat them. (I am positive they were not running very hard, though, and could have finished before me quite easily.) They went on their way, and I continued waiting for Rick and Nick. Further waiting occurred. I really needed to go to the bathroom, so I quickly ran to a port-a-jon that was only overflowing a little bit.
As I was heading back to the starting line to resume my task of spotting Rick and Nick, I found Rick! Only Rick, though. Not that finding Rick isn't a great thing.. I just expected to see Nick with him because they planned on running together.
(dramatization of our conversation)
Me:"Rick! You finished! Where's Nick?"
Rick: "I don't know! I haven't seen him yet!"
Me: "Weren't you going to run together?"
Rick: "Yeah! I don't know where that guy went."
*At this point, I realize that Rick is wearing heavy sweatpants, a heavy coat, and carrying a bag of race-goodies.*
Me: "Rick, why are you wearing all those clothes, and WHY are you carrying your race-goody bag?"
Rick: "I couldn't find Natalie [his wife] before the race, so I ran with all of this. People were looking at me soo weird. I think they thought I stole something."
Rick ran a 10k race with far more clothing than the weather required, and a bag full of junk. (It's not goodies when you've run with it for 10 kilometers.) As Rick recounted to me, he couldn't find Natalie or Nick, and the 10k was beginning so he started clear at the back. He intentionally hung out back there, hoping that Nick would come running up to jump in the race. A short distance into the race, Rick realized Nick wasn't back there, so he began passing people, hoping Nick was ahead of him somewhere. Rick also passed thousands of people, all while looking like a shoplifter running from the scene of a crime. People were openly questioning his style. "Lookit that guy! Why is he running with all that STUFF!?!" Don't question Rick's methods. He flew. But he didn't find Nick amongst the thousands of people left in his dust. He did find me, though, and we at least had each other.
As I mentioned at the beginning, it was a chilly day, (high 40’s, maybe) and I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. We were also both pretty sweaty. My warming layers were in my car, my car keys were in my bag, and I last saw my bag with Nick. We waited a while for Nick at the finish line. Long enough that the 25k leaders were finishing. We hoped Nick wasn't still behind them. We decided to split up and begin looking for Nick. Or Natalie. Natalie would be a good find as well, as she had a phone, Rick's car keys, possibly my clothes and keys, Lincoln, and a generally joyful, warm spirit. Anything warm would be great.
Rick and I canvassed the downtown area for quite a while, reconvening every so often with nobody located. We also made several trips to our vehicles, hoping to find Natalie. I was the only one who knew where my car was, so we didn’t expect to find anyone there. We looked for a stick or something to write a message with on Rick’s vehicle, but it was very smudgy and completely illegible. We decided to leave a finishing pin in the driver’s window so that Natalie would know, if she came by, that we had finished the race and had been to the vehicle. Much thought was put into this form of communication, and I think Rick and I were both pretty pleased with our creativity.
Despite all of our creativity and searching, we didn't find Nick. Or Natalie. I did find many other people I knew, though. I would always ask them if they had seen a very tall guy with a white long-sleeve shirt or gray sweatshirt wandering around. Nobody had. It had now been over two hours since I finished the 10k.
Rick and I were at our meeting place near the goofy red sculpture when I found my friend, Tim. Tim had finished the 25k very quickly. Tim’s brother had a cell phone, so Rick and I asked to borrow it so we could at least call Natalie. Rick called, and she answered her phone!
(Dramatization of their conversation)
Rick: “ Hi! John and I are finished, but we can’t find Nick anywhere. Where are you?”
Natalie: “I saw Nick before the race, he gave me all of his stuff and went to find you.”
Rick: “Good! Well tell me where you are and we’ll be able to get warm and look for Nick.”
Natalie: “I’m by the goofy sculpture”
Rick: “Where?! We’re by the goofy sculpture!”
Natalie: “I’m on the stairs by the finish line.”
Rick: “We’re on the stairs by the finish line!! Where ARE you?!”
Natalie: “I’m right at the bottom of the stairs..”
Rick: “Are you sure?! John and I can’t see you any... oh never mind. We see you.”
Natalie was 10 feet away from us. This was not my proudest moment, considering I’m trained by the military to see needles in haystacks from 1000 yards away. But we found Natalie, and we were happy.
Nick had indeed left his things with Natalie, including my bag, which contained my keys and cell phone. I promptly waddled (muscles were pretty tight by now) to my car to move it next to Rick’s. I donned my warm clothes and met back up with Rick and Natalie. They still had not seen Nick. I found Nick’s cellphone in his things and checked it for voicemails. Nothing. I think there was a missed call from his sister, Angie, so I decided to call her. I was thinking maybe Nick found a phone somewhere, called his sister, and asked her to call his phone. It was a long shot, but it was the best shot we had at this point. (Based on the way I’m building this up, you’re probably going to think I’m about to find out where Nick is. If only that were the case.)
I called Angie, and there was no answer. I left a voicemail that we couldn’t find Nick, he could be badly injured somewhere, and there was definitely need to worry. (I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it probably resembled that.)
So, where are we? Rick, Natalie, Lincoln and I are standing between the goofy red sculpture and the finish line. It has been somewhere between two and three hours since I finished my run. We began debating Nick’s whereabouts..
(Dramatization of our conversation)
Me: “Maybe he finished before me, or I just missed him when I was running.”
Rick: “But you definitely started before him. So he would’ve been back by me.”
Natalie: “He didn’t find me until the 10k had already begun and the 25k runners were lining up. Rick, did you run with all your stuff?”
Rick: “Yes. It was horrible. But there’s no way Nick ran the 25k. He didn’t even want to run the 10k.”
Me: “He probably just ran by the 25k starters and jumped in the back of the 10k to find you.”
Rick: “I never saw him.”
Me: “Maaaybe... maybe he finished the 10k, wandered around, found someone he knew, and got a ride back to the townhouse. I could see him doing that. But then again, he’s extremely erratic, and I could see him doing just about anything. Except run the 25k.”
Rick: “He may not have even run. He didn’t want to.”
Me: “But he’s so careful with his money, I can’t believe he would pay for this race and then not run it.”
As you can see, Nick’s behavior was, and still is very difficult to predict. However, although some of his actions are very challenging to determine, I believe that I know exactly how Nick’s interaction with Natalie went before the race..
(Very accurate dramatization of their conversation)
*Nick walks up slowly. Very slowly.*
Nick: “Hi Natalie.”
Natalie: “Hi!”
Nick: “Soooo.. how’s it goin’?”
Natalie: “Good. Have you seen Rick?”
*Nick straightens up sharply and raises his eyebrows slightly*
Nick: “No I haven’t! *Quickly tilts head forward and slightly to the side* Have you?!”
Natalie: “No. He went to register and I haven’t seen him. And it looks like the 10k is about to begin.
Nick: “Yeahhhh.. Hmm.. Lookit that.”
*Nick looks at the race start for an unusually long time* (Usually people would scramble to make the race, but he’s probably debating some major ethical issue in his head right now)
Natalie: “Do you want to leave your stuff with me? Rick left to register a while ago, so I’m guessing he’s probably in that group somewhere.”
Nick: “Yeah, I guess that’d be good.”
*Nick hands Natalie our bags and his warming layers and puts his hands in his pockets. He’s really tall, though, so only half of his hands are in the pockets.*
Nick: Whelp! See ya!
*Nick turns abruptly toward the race, pauses for a moment, and starts running with the straightest form you’ve ever seen and a very unique stride.*
Back to our little group by the sculpture.. we had decided that Rick and his family would return to the vehicles to warm up, also hoping that maybe Nick had discovered our vehicles and was waiting by them. We had cellphone communication now, so I decided that I would continue roaming around the race area for sight of Nick. I walked south along a ledge toward the finish line area, searching the recovery area as well.
Suddenly, as I was scanning around me, about 200 feet away near the finish line, I saw a tall figure with a white long-sleeve shirt.
(Our exact conversation)
Me: “NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
*Nick spins around and sees me on a ledge with outstretched arms*
Nick: “JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHN!!!!!”
Nick then thrust his arms in the air and I saw a green medal in his right hand. They don’t give medals to 10k finishers. They give them to 25k finishers. Nice. Nick had clearly stolen a 25k finishers medal. Oh yeah... we also terrified everyone around us. Our yells were at full volume. No holds barred.
I called Rick as I quickly made my way to Nick before losing him again.
(Dramatization of our conversation)
Me: “Rick! I found him!! I found Nick!”
Rick: “Really?! Where?!”
Me: “He was right at the finish line! He had a 25k finishers medal in his hands. Rick... I think Nick may have run the 25k.”
Rick: “No way! He did not. He probably stole the medal.”
Me: “Well I’m almost to him. I’ll find out and head your way.”
I found Nick as he was grabbing a banana and we had a long embrace. Three hours apart is a long time. Especially when I have NO IDEA where he is.
Me: “Nick.. did you run the 25k?”
Nick: “Yep.”
Nick, with virtually no preparation, completed a 25k race that he hadn’t decided to run until he was already several miles into it.
I have nothing more to say.
It was a dark and stormy.. wait no, that's not true. Okay, true from this point on. It was a chilly, overcast Saturday morning during the early spring in Grand Rapids, Michigan. The city was abuzz with energy because race day had finally arrived. *Pause* *rewind one day* It was a chilly, overcast Friday morning during the early spring in Grand Rapids, Michigan. The city was somewhat abuzz with energy because race day was only one day away.
Myself and two of my friends were signed up to participate in the 10k run event of the annual River Bank Run. 5k and 25k were also available, but 5k was too short, and the 25k would be impossible to finish. Impossible. It was myself, Rick, and Nick. I like this 10k because they have two clydesdale divisions. (over 190 lbs. and over 200 lbs.) I appreciate this because although I am by no means fast, when my finishing time is determined by body-weight, I trick myself into thinking I'm at least not slow.
I was the only one of the three runners who was planning to run the race at a higher than leisurely pace. I was also the only of the three runners who had run more than a few times in the months leading up to the race. That's why I needed to rewind one day. The night before the race, Nick called Rick. Nick had only run twice, I believe, in the weeks and months leading up to this day. Nick's phone call was an attempt to convince Rick to change their entry to the 5k run, if they even ran at all. Nick's left foot was also bothering him, which was a legitimate claim. ...This story is better understood if you are aware that a couple years earlier Nick was in a car accident. His vehicle exploded. Blown into pieces. (Don't believe it? Refer to the opening statement, please.) Nick barely survived, physically, but his mind was remarkably improved. Anyway, the heel pain was a residual effect of the fender bender he was in.
Rick staunchly refused to waver in his commitment to run the 10k and demanded that Nick man up and run it with him. Annnd I think now we can move forward to race day. So yeah, chilly, overcast and all that stuff.. Nick and I are on our way to the race. It's packed. This is the biggest 25k race in the U.S. On the way there Nick informed me that his right knee had now begun hurting. Also legitimate, but no excuse to not run 10 kilometers, right?
Parking was kinda crazy, so I dropped Nick off near registration and looked for a place to park, hoping for an open spot in the state of Michigan. I found one.
Meanwhile, Rick and his wife, Natalie, and their son, Lincoln had arrived, and were getting Rick registered. The plan was for all of us to register, give our registration things and warming layers to Natalie, and then run our hearts out. That was the plan. The Marine Corps taught me that the only thing you can plan on is that things will never go as planned. Nick had registered. I ran to the registration and signed up. I looked for Nick for quite some time. I found many other people I knew, but not the tallest person there. Rick had signed up, but I never saw him, either. The 10k race time was drawing nigh.
Finally Nick and I were able to link up with the aid of our cell phones. I quickly put the tag on my shoe, my number on my shorts, my phone in my race-goodie bag, and gave the bag to Nick. I figured that because I was actually hoping to finish well, I should get going. Selfish, perhaps, but justifiable.
At this point the stories of Rick, Nick, and Jonathan must depart, as I desire to keep the reader in the context of the story as it unfolded before me this day. I pushed through the mass of runners, trying to get somewhat close to my pace group. Too late. The horn blew. The race had begun. Three minutes later I crossed the starting line and began my agonizing half mile shuffle until the crowd thinned out. My wonderful race soundtrack that I programmed for every mile of the race was on shuffle, and my ipod was in this insane mode where if you shook it, it would skip to the next track. That little music plan of mine was quickly defeated as I skipped through songs every 3 seconds. I finally figured how how to swing my left arm so that the songs wouldn't skip, and got back to the task at hand.. being a fast clydesdale. I arrived at the first clock and realized my goal was impossible. I know finishing strong is key, but starting faster than a stroll is important as well. Nevertheless, I knew two girls who were running in the race, and I hadn't passed them yet, so in a panic I kept running, terrified that they may finish before me. (I'm a tad bit competitive.) At the halfway point I saw the girls parents, and they told me I was ahead of them. I relaxed. A little. I ran a little bit longer, and then I finished. Whee.
I was a few minutes off of my goal. I chose to look at it optimistically, though, and realized that I probably passed around 3,000 people during the race. I grabbed some water, a banana, and waited near the finish line for Rick and Nick. After a few minutes I saw the two girls I knew. I beat them. (I am positive they were not running very hard, though, and could have finished before me quite easily.) They went on their way, and I continued waiting for Rick and Nick. Further waiting occurred. I really needed to go to the bathroom, so I quickly ran to a port-a-jon that was only overflowing a little bit.
As I was heading back to the starting line to resume my task of spotting Rick and Nick, I found Rick! Only Rick, though. Not that finding Rick isn't a great thing.. I just expected to see Nick with him because they planned on running together.
(dramatization of our conversation)
Me:"Rick! You finished! Where's Nick?"
Rick: "I don't know! I haven't seen him yet!"
Me: "Weren't you going to run together?"
Rick: "Yeah! I don't know where that guy went."
*At this point, I realize that Rick is wearing heavy sweatpants, a heavy coat, and carrying a bag of race-goodies.*
Me: "Rick, why are you wearing all those clothes, and WHY are you carrying your race-goody bag?"
Rick: "I couldn't find Natalie [his wife] before the race, so I ran with all of this. People were looking at me soo weird. I think they thought I stole something."
Rick ran a 10k race with far more clothing than the weather required, and a bag full of junk. (It's not goodies when you've run with it for 10 kilometers.) As Rick recounted to me, he couldn't find Natalie or Nick, and the 10k was beginning so he started clear at the back. He intentionally hung out back there, hoping that Nick would come running up to jump in the race. A short distance into the race, Rick realized Nick wasn't back there, so he began passing people, hoping Nick was ahead of him somewhere. Rick also passed thousands of people, all while looking like a shoplifter running from the scene of a crime. People were openly questioning his style. "Lookit that guy! Why is he running with all that STUFF!?!" Don't question Rick's methods. He flew. But he didn't find Nick amongst the thousands of people left in his dust. He did find me, though, and we at least had each other.
As I mentioned at the beginning, it was a chilly day, (high 40’s, maybe) and I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. We were also both pretty sweaty. My warming layers were in my car, my car keys were in my bag, and I last saw my bag with Nick. We waited a while for Nick at the finish line. Long enough that the 25k leaders were finishing. We hoped Nick wasn't still behind them. We decided to split up and begin looking for Nick. Or Natalie. Natalie would be a good find as well, as she had a phone, Rick's car keys, possibly my clothes and keys, Lincoln, and a generally joyful, warm spirit. Anything warm would be great.
Rick and I canvassed the downtown area for quite a while, reconvening every so often with nobody located. We also made several trips to our vehicles, hoping to find Natalie. I was the only one who knew where my car was, so we didn’t expect to find anyone there. We looked for a stick or something to write a message with on Rick’s vehicle, but it was very smudgy and completely illegible. We decided to leave a finishing pin in the driver’s window so that Natalie would know, if she came by, that we had finished the race and had been to the vehicle. Much thought was put into this form of communication, and I think Rick and I were both pretty pleased with our creativity.
Despite all of our creativity and searching, we didn't find Nick. Or Natalie. I did find many other people I knew, though. I would always ask them if they had seen a very tall guy with a white long-sleeve shirt or gray sweatshirt wandering around. Nobody had. It had now been over two hours since I finished the 10k.
Rick and I were at our meeting place near the goofy red sculpture when I found my friend, Tim. Tim had finished the 25k very quickly. Tim’s brother had a cell phone, so Rick and I asked to borrow it so we could at least call Natalie. Rick called, and she answered her phone!
(Dramatization of their conversation)
Rick: “ Hi! John and I are finished, but we can’t find Nick anywhere. Where are you?”
Natalie: “I saw Nick before the race, he gave me all of his stuff and went to find you.”
Rick: “Good! Well tell me where you are and we’ll be able to get warm and look for Nick.”
Natalie: “I’m by the goofy sculpture”
Rick: “Where?! We’re by the goofy sculpture!”
Natalie: “I’m on the stairs by the finish line.”
Rick: “We’re on the stairs by the finish line!! Where ARE you?!”
Natalie: “I’m right at the bottom of the stairs..”
Rick: “Are you sure?! John and I can’t see you any... oh never mind. We see you.”
Natalie was 10 feet away from us. This was not my proudest moment, considering I’m trained by the military to see needles in haystacks from 1000 yards away. But we found Natalie, and we were happy.
Nick had indeed left his things with Natalie, including my bag, which contained my keys and cell phone. I promptly waddled (muscles were pretty tight by now) to my car to move it next to Rick’s. I donned my warm clothes and met back up with Rick and Natalie. They still had not seen Nick. I found Nick’s cellphone in his things and checked it for voicemails. Nothing. I think there was a missed call from his sister, Angie, so I decided to call her. I was thinking maybe Nick found a phone somewhere, called his sister, and asked her to call his phone. It was a long shot, but it was the best shot we had at this point. (Based on the way I’m building this up, you’re probably going to think I’m about to find out where Nick is. If only that were the case.)
I called Angie, and there was no answer. I left a voicemail that we couldn’t find Nick, he could be badly injured somewhere, and there was definitely need to worry. (I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it probably resembled that.)
So, where are we? Rick, Natalie, Lincoln and I are standing between the goofy red sculpture and the finish line. It has been somewhere between two and three hours since I finished my run. We began debating Nick’s whereabouts..
(Dramatization of our conversation)
Me: “Maybe he finished before me, or I just missed him when I was running.”
Rick: “But you definitely started before him. So he would’ve been back by me.”
Natalie: “He didn’t find me until the 10k had already begun and the 25k runners were lining up. Rick, did you run with all your stuff?”
Rick: “Yes. It was horrible. But there’s no way Nick ran the 25k. He didn’t even want to run the 10k.”
Me: “He probably just ran by the 25k starters and jumped in the back of the 10k to find you.”
Rick: “I never saw him.”
Me: “Maaaybe... maybe he finished the 10k, wandered around, found someone he knew, and got a ride back to the townhouse. I could see him doing that. But then again, he’s extremely erratic, and I could see him doing just about anything. Except run the 25k.”
Rick: “He may not have even run. He didn’t want to.”
Me: “But he’s so careful with his money, I can’t believe he would pay for this race and then not run it.”
As you can see, Nick’s behavior was, and still is very difficult to predict. However, although some of his actions are very challenging to determine, I believe that I know exactly how Nick’s interaction with Natalie went before the race..
(Very accurate dramatization of their conversation)
*Nick walks up slowly. Very slowly.*
Nick: “Hi Natalie.”
Natalie: “Hi!”
Nick: “Soooo.. how’s it goin’?”
Natalie: “Good. Have you seen Rick?”
*Nick straightens up sharply and raises his eyebrows slightly*
Nick: “No I haven’t! *Quickly tilts head forward and slightly to the side* Have you?!”
Natalie: “No. He went to register and I haven’t seen him. And it looks like the 10k is about to begin.
Nick: “Yeahhhh.. Hmm.. Lookit that.”
*Nick looks at the race start for an unusually long time* (Usually people would scramble to make the race, but he’s probably debating some major ethical issue in his head right now)
Natalie: “Do you want to leave your stuff with me? Rick left to register a while ago, so I’m guessing he’s probably in that group somewhere.”
Nick: “Yeah, I guess that’d be good.”
*Nick hands Natalie our bags and his warming layers and puts his hands in his pockets. He’s really tall, though, so only half of his hands are in the pockets.*
Nick: Whelp! See ya!
*Nick turns abruptly toward the race, pauses for a moment, and starts running with the straightest form you’ve ever seen and a very unique stride.*
Back to our little group by the sculpture.. we had decided that Rick and his family would return to the vehicles to warm up, also hoping that maybe Nick had discovered our vehicles and was waiting by them. We had cellphone communication now, so I decided that I would continue roaming around the race area for sight of Nick. I walked south along a ledge toward the finish line area, searching the recovery area as well.
Suddenly, as I was scanning around me, about 200 feet away near the finish line, I saw a tall figure with a white long-sleeve shirt.
(Our exact conversation)
Me: “NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
*Nick spins around and sees me on a ledge with outstretched arms*
Nick: “JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHN!!!!!”
Nick then thrust his arms in the air and I saw a green medal in his right hand. They don’t give medals to 10k finishers. They give them to 25k finishers. Nice. Nick had clearly stolen a 25k finishers medal. Oh yeah... we also terrified everyone around us. Our yells were at full volume. No holds barred.
I called Rick as I quickly made my way to Nick before losing him again.
(Dramatization of our conversation)
Me: “Rick! I found him!! I found Nick!”
Rick: “Really?! Where?!”
Me: “He was right at the finish line! He had a 25k finishers medal in his hands. Rick... I think Nick may have run the 25k.”
Rick: “No way! He did not. He probably stole the medal.”
Me: “Well I’m almost to him. I’ll find out and head your way.”
I found Nick as he was grabbing a banana and we had a long embrace. Three hours apart is a long time. Especially when I have NO IDEA where he is.
Me: “Nick.. did you run the 25k?”
Nick: “Yep.”
Nick, with virtually no preparation, completed a 25k race that he hadn’t decided to run until he was already several miles into it.
I have nothing more to say.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
A Psalm of Life
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou are, to dust thou returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, - act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sand of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou are, to dust thou returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, - act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sand of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
Friday, January 7, 2011
This isn't Awkward at All
I was in a garage/warehouse area yesterday at a place where I volunteer. I was quietly taking an inventory of some products in a room when a door opened and in walked a young lady, maybe a couple years older than me. She didn’t notice me. This wasn’t a large, expansive warehouse. It was a room the size of a home’s living room, and we were the only two in there, annnd I was the only one of the two who was privy to this information.
This lady was putting some things in a refrigerator with her back turned to me. About ten seconds passed, and she still hadn’t noticed the tall, noticeable guy 10 feet behind her. At this point I realized I had a few options: I could say hello (but it was far too long into the situation for that option), I could make a small noise that would hopefully make my presence known, or I could hope that she was so deep in thought that she wouldn’t even see me as she turned and left.
Time was passing, and I continued wasting precious seconds thinking about my least-creepy strategy, when my fate was sealed for me as I must've made a small noise with my foot scraping along the ground. This young lady (we’ll call her Gertrude*) casually turned around at the sound of the noise, only to see a nervous man not-so-casually staring at her. I was obviously focused on her because a potentially uncomfortable problem had been created, and my mind was racing to find a solution. My solution seemed to have been the idea that staring at Gertrude would make me seem much less unusual when I flashed a goofy grin and said “Hello!” I figured that normality could not be achieved at this point, so why try? She was trying not to laugh, which pleased me, since we both had an understanding of the awkwardness that had quickly saturated the air.
Fortunately, my quick thinking did save the day in the end when, after the formality of exchanging names, I remembered that someone I had met a few days earlier knew a Gertrude that worked where I volunteered. We were able to create some common ground, and had a brief, civilized conversation.
I usually desire to create awkward situations (and have great success), but when they are forced on me, I view it as a very special gift to brighten my day.
*Names have been changed to protect identity.
This lady was putting some things in a refrigerator with her back turned to me. About ten seconds passed, and she still hadn’t noticed the tall, noticeable guy 10 feet behind her. At this point I realized I had a few options: I could say hello (but it was far too long into the situation for that option), I could make a small noise that would hopefully make my presence known, or I could hope that she was so deep in thought that she wouldn’t even see me as she turned and left.
Time was passing, and I continued wasting precious seconds thinking about my least-creepy strategy, when my fate was sealed for me as I must've made a small noise with my foot scraping along the ground. This young lady (we’ll call her Gertrude*) casually turned around at the sound of the noise, only to see a nervous man not-so-casually staring at her. I was obviously focused on her because a potentially uncomfortable problem had been created, and my mind was racing to find a solution. My solution seemed to have been the idea that staring at Gertrude would make me seem much less unusual when I flashed a goofy grin and said “Hello!” I figured that normality could not be achieved at this point, so why try? She was trying not to laugh, which pleased me, since we both had an understanding of the awkwardness that had quickly saturated the air.
Fortunately, my quick thinking did save the day in the end when, after the formality of exchanging names, I remembered that someone I had met a few days earlier knew a Gertrude that worked where I volunteered. We were able to create some common ground, and had a brief, civilized conversation.
I usually desire to create awkward situations (and have great success), but when they are forced on me, I view it as a very special gift to brighten my day.
*Names have been changed to protect identity.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
10 Things I Want To Do In My Life
Another unearthed high school writing project. This one is really amazing to me. The immaturity of some of my goals, and the shock that some of these have actually been realized. God is good. This is embarrassing in many ways, but it most certainly makes me smile when I read it. I'd like to edit some of the grammar and statements, but I will try to refrain. Aside from my family, nobody I keep in touch with anymore knew the Jonathan Stockeland that wrote this. God is good.
10. Drive route 66 with a bunch of friends in red 1960 Corvette Convertibles with white trim and white leather seats. Just cruisin' from Chicago to San Diego with my best friends, jammin' to the oldies. The people I'd take with has changed.
9. No more outer space. Far too unrealistic. I would still like to be sitting on top of Mt. Everest someday. Maybe they could just set me up there with a helicopter to save some time.
8. Acquire a pilot's license. Probably for leisure and not as a career. But who knows? This summer my brother let me fly and airplane for a while and it was one of the most awesome experiences of my life. Really, really, cool.
(way to use non-descriptive, cliche words, 17 yr. old Jonathan..)
7. See the Twins, Vikings, and Pacers all win national championships before I die. This dream has dropped a few spots in the last year. I'm still the same sports fanatic, though. Even more so. Yes, it is possible. Twins are out of the playoffs this year, but I didn't cry. Pacers won't win the NBA Finals this year. However, my beloved Vikings are going to win their first Super Bowl ever this year!! It is about time! I can't take another playoff loss anyway.
(sports teams losing was the apex of emotional turmoil in my childhood. I was known to cry from time to time.)
6. If I could own any sports team, I would want the Vikings. I bleed purple and gold. I live and die every week in the fall. Fortunately, the first 7 weeks of this season have been all living for me. That's right, the Vikes are 6-0. Last time they started this well was 3 years ago when they were eventually walloped in the playoffs by the Giants. Things are different this year. I can feel it.
(Things weren't different that year, and I found out that I actually bleed red.)
5. I want to attend college and graduate. Emphasis on graduate. Right now I'd like a major in U.S. History or Criminal Justice.
(The most achievable goal on my list, and 5 majors and 4 colleges later, I'm still chasing it.)
4. (This one is so very sad and materialistic) Along with that stock 2004 Viper of mine, I have added a new dream car to my fleet. A custom black '96 Impala SS. I'm limo tintint the windows, putting 20 inch spinnin' blades on the wheels, dropping the frame 6 inches, and installing hydraulics. On the inside you will see two 7 inch LCD screens in the headrest and a 10 inch LCD on the dash right above my DVD compatible audio deck. The interior sound will be provided by 6 mids and 4 tweeters. The trunk will hold three 14 inch subs (unless I can fit larger) and two amps, all encased in acoustic plexiglass.
(Okay, I have to remove the last two sentences. It got out of control. The word 'heezie' was used.. I wouldn't take this car if it was given to me.)
3. I'd like to spend the majority of my lifetime in the North Dakota or Minnesota area. It's some of the most beautiful land in the world. And I have a lot of family in that area, which is VERY important to me.
(Okay, majority is pushin' it, but I'm surprised #3 has been moderately realized.)
2. I'd like to get married and have kids. This has jumped a few spots in the last year. It's not like I know how many kids I want and have all their names picked out. I just know I want to have a family with a wonderful wife.
(..Said the boy who hadn't even been on date.)
1. I want to live for God. I am a Christian and I am positive I will be going to heaven when I die. But I know I don't always live like a Christian should live and act like a Christian should act. I want to live for God in my life and do everything for his glory. I don't want to do anything self-pleasing if it's not pleasing to God.
10. Drive route 66 with a bunch of friends in red 1960 Corvette Convertibles with white trim and white leather seats. Just cruisin' from Chicago to San Diego with my best friends, jammin' to the oldies. The people I'd take with has changed.
9. No more outer space. Far too unrealistic. I would still like to be sitting on top of Mt. Everest someday. Maybe they could just set me up there with a helicopter to save some time.
8. Acquire a pilot's license. Probably for leisure and not as a career. But who knows? This summer my brother let me fly and airplane for a while and it was one of the most awesome experiences of my life. Really, really, cool.
(way to use non-descriptive, cliche words, 17 yr. old Jonathan..)
7. See the Twins, Vikings, and Pacers all win national championships before I die. This dream has dropped a few spots in the last year. I'm still the same sports fanatic, though. Even more so. Yes, it is possible. Twins are out of the playoffs this year, but I didn't cry. Pacers won't win the NBA Finals this year. However, my beloved Vikings are going to win their first Super Bowl ever this year!! It is about time! I can't take another playoff loss anyway.
(sports teams losing was the apex of emotional turmoil in my childhood. I was known to cry from time to time.)
6. If I could own any sports team, I would want the Vikings. I bleed purple and gold. I live and die every week in the fall. Fortunately, the first 7 weeks of this season have been all living for me. That's right, the Vikes are 6-0. Last time they started this well was 3 years ago when they were eventually walloped in the playoffs by the Giants. Things are different this year. I can feel it.
(Things weren't different that year, and I found out that I actually bleed red.)
5. I want to attend college and graduate. Emphasis on graduate. Right now I'd like a major in U.S. History or Criminal Justice.
(The most achievable goal on my list, and 5 majors and 4 colleges later, I'm still chasing it.)
4. (This one is so very sad and materialistic) Along with that stock 2004 Viper of mine, I have added a new dream car to my fleet. A custom black '96 Impala SS. I'm limo tintint the windows, putting 20 inch spinnin' blades on the wheels, dropping the frame 6 inches, and installing hydraulics. On the inside you will see two 7 inch LCD screens in the headrest and a 10 inch LCD on the dash right above my DVD compatible audio deck. The interior sound will be provided by 6 mids and 4 tweeters. The trunk will hold three 14 inch subs (unless I can fit larger) and two amps, all encased in acoustic plexiglass.
(Okay, I have to remove the last two sentences. It got out of control. The word 'heezie' was used.. I wouldn't take this car if it was given to me.)
3. I'd like to spend the majority of my lifetime in the North Dakota or Minnesota area. It's some of the most beautiful land in the world. And I have a lot of family in that area, which is VERY important to me.
(Okay, majority is pushin' it, but I'm surprised #3 has been moderately realized.)
2. I'd like to get married and have kids. This has jumped a few spots in the last year. It's not like I know how many kids I want and have all their names picked out. I just know I want to have a family with a wonderful wife.
(..Said the boy who hadn't even been on date.)
1. I want to live for God. I am a Christian and I am positive I will be going to heaven when I die. But I know I don't always live like a Christian should live and act like a Christian should act. I want to live for God in my life and do everything for his glory. I don't want to do anything self-pleasing if it's not pleasing to God.
A few of my favorite things. (abstract edition)
Peeling an entire orange with one, long, continuous peel.
Peeling the stickers cleanly off of computers, appliances, and other shiny objects that should not have stickers on them.
Turning over the last page on a book and setting it on my lap.
Finding an old photograph that I haven't seen in years.
Separating the egg white from the yolk.
Waking up on less than 3 hours of sleep with no perceived fatigue. Gonna be a good day.
Eating string cheese at room temperature, when it is at its' stringiest.
Laughing out loud.. by myself. Or with other people, I suppose.
You know the blue film that protects chrome and stainless steel? So great. To peel off, that is.
Removing a stain. from clothes, carpet, a countertop, you name it.
The texture of tapioca pudding.
Hammer-ons and hammer-offs on the guitar.
Slipping on ice, but preventing a fall.
The last minute of a run.
A ball point pen that rolls well.
Top Ten lists of anything. I miss ECP 5..
An empty sink.
Muscle failure.
Top speed on my scooter.
Any speed on my scooter.
My scooter.
Kneeling.
Avoiding the initial cold stream of water from the shower head.
Wearing my apron in the kitchen.
A tight spiral on a football. kicking or throwing.
A strong rebound in basketball.
A fluid 6-4-3 double play. Tinker to Evers to Chance.
Alleyways.
Mixing up scripture references.
Unexpected phone calls (..all phone calls).
Realizations about God's love that blindside me.
3x5 cards.
Praying on the phone.
Manual transmissions.
Double-headers.
Streakless windshield wipers.
Tucking in on a bicycle.
Watching bad memories become good.
Acting. Like, in a play.
When other people intercede for the desires of my heart.
To be continued..
Peeling the stickers cleanly off of computers, appliances, and other shiny objects that should not have stickers on them.
Turning over the last page on a book and setting it on my lap.
Finding an old photograph that I haven't seen in years.
Separating the egg white from the yolk.
Waking up on less than 3 hours of sleep with no perceived fatigue. Gonna be a good day.
Eating string cheese at room temperature, when it is at its' stringiest.
Laughing out loud.. by myself. Or with other people, I suppose.
You know the blue film that protects chrome and stainless steel? So great. To peel off, that is.
Removing a stain. from clothes, carpet, a countertop, you name it.
The texture of tapioca pudding.
Hammer-ons and hammer-offs on the guitar.
Slipping on ice, but preventing a fall.
The last minute of a run.
A ball point pen that rolls well.
Top Ten lists of anything. I miss ECP 5..
An empty sink.
Muscle failure.
Top speed on my scooter.
Any speed on my scooter.
My scooter.
Kneeling.
Avoiding the initial cold stream of water from the shower head.
Wearing my apron in the kitchen.
A tight spiral on a football. kicking or throwing.
A strong rebound in basketball.
A fluid 6-4-3 double play. Tinker to Evers to Chance.
Alleyways.
Mixing up scripture references.
Unexpected phone calls (..all phone calls).
Realizations about God's love that blindside me.
3x5 cards.
Praying on the phone.
Manual transmissions.
Double-headers.
Streakless windshield wipers.
Tucking in on a bicycle.
Watching bad memories become good.
Acting. Like, in a play.
When other people intercede for the desires of my heart.
To be continued..
Saturday, January 1, 2011
SKI-U-MAH
November 27, 2010
A day to remember.
Iowa Hawkeyes vs. Minnesota Gophers
Who hates Iowa? WE hate Iowa.
For normal people, this was just the Saturday after Thanksgiving. A day most likely spent with family, maybe decorating for Christmas. I'm not normal. I am a proud inaugural member of the new Minnesota Golden Gophers Rooter Club. I'll be honest, it sounds as lame as it is.
I received an email in the first week of the school semester, advertising this new cheering section that would receive prime seating at Gopher football games. I already owned season tickets, and I figured that this would be a good way to ensure that I would have good seats. So I applied, was accepted, and began attending Gopher games. By myself.
The Gophers have a dismal football team. Bad enough that I think I could even have a shot at making the team. That's a bad team. Going into the final game, we had two wins, both coming on the road. We didn't have a home win since the previous year, it was 20 degrees out, our opponents were ranked #24 in the nation, and I was staring down the barrel of a 13 hour night-shift followed by a Sunday at church. After considering all of that, I still decided that I needed to remain faithful to my new school and see the season through to the bitter end.
I donned my ridiculous attire, smiled, and began the walk to the stadium. I arrived about an hour early. The student section had maybe 20 fans. I posted myself at my front row seat (although I never sit during the game) and tried to stay warm. By this point I was beginning my weekly ritual of working myself into the delusion that the Gophers maybe stood a chance of winning. I think it was the fog from the fog machines going to my head. It was crazy to think that way. Regardless, before every game, I would scream myself hoarse, pounding on the player's helmets as they ran out of the tunnel and onto the field. I know, I'm supposed to be an adult, and act like it, but need I remind you I am not normal? Adulthood is boring and comfortable.
As the game began I added a second layer of gloves, immediately regretting slapping helmets in the bitter cold. My fingers hurt. This was it. The final game. The last nail in the season's coffin. The Gophers received the first kickoff. They scored. A touchdown. It wasn't uncommon for the Gophers to tease me like this, so I screamed wildly, but in a subdued sorta way. The Gophers then kicked off. Generally in the first quarter of a game, you do a regular kickoff. The Gophers tried an onside kick and recovered the kick. At this point I immediately abandoned all subtlety and threw all of my emotional capacities into the game. The louder I screamed, the warmer I became, so that was only an encouragement. This is when my delusional thoughts of a victory reached their peak for the season. The Gophers had nothing to lose, and they were playing like it. That's a dangerous team to play, no matter how pathetic they are.
At the end of the first half, the Gophers held a slim lead. This wasn't uncommon, as they always play exponentially worse in the second half. I spent halftime walking through the concourse, trying to bring feeling back to my toes. I also received a lot of odd looks due to my socially unacceptable clothing choices. The third quarter was scoreless. the final fourth quarter began. (As I'm typing this there's an epic movie score playing on Pandora. It's very fitting. And funny. Just pause for a moment and imagine some deep, pulsating bass sounds with flowing strings and increasingly louder brass. Now that the mood is set, back to the story.) The Gophers scored, increasing their lead. Then, as it inevitably happens when I predict tragic events, the Iowa Hawkeyes returned the ensuing kickoff for a touchdown. This also was not an uncommon practice for opposing teams to do. Iowa then scored again, taking the lead in the game for the first time, with only minutes remaining. The Gophers received the kickoff, and with the help of some acrobatic plays, drove down the field for a touchdown, regaining the lead. Usually when the Gophers score, I give bear hugs to everyone around me, whether I've seen them before or not. By this point, our hugs were not wild, crazy celebrations, but instead emotion-filled hopeful embraces, hoping beyond all hope that our misery was possibly over. But we had to kick the ball to Iowa again. They had a couple minutes, which is plenty of time for a team like Iowa to score, dashing our hopes once again, and retaining Floyd of Rosedale, a bronze pig we have been fighting over since 1935, I believe. On the second play of their drive, their running back found a hole and was running toward open field. But we are gophers. And we are sneaky fast. From the running back's blind left side came a Gopher who lowered his head (poor fundamental tackling) and speared the football loose. Fumble. I still remember watching the referee signal that the ball was going in the opposite direction. Gophers recover. If we can get one or two first downs we can run out the clock. My screams would have been primal at this point, but I had lost my voice quite a while earlier, so I sounded more like squealing brakes. I turned to the guy next to me and in the manliest way possible at this point, we embraced, trembling that victory was within our grasp.
The Gophers ran the ball several times. Iowa used their timeouts to stop the clock, leaving one remaining. The Gophers gained a first down. Victory was ours. Victory. Running out the clock was a mere formality. On the next play, as long as Iowa didn't needlessly use their final timeout, the clock would run out and the Gophers would be victorious. I braced myself, leaning against the front railing that separated me from the field. Extra security and police officers were positioned around the field. I did not care. At all. As the quarterback kneeled down, I vaulted myself over the railing and down to the field level, somehow without injuring myself. I shot a few of my trademark furious glances at the security guards, and they moved out of the way. I was on the field sprinting toward the team. When I was near the 50-yard line, the referee came on the sound system and said, "Iowa has used their final timeout." Lame. Scaling the wall back to my seat wasn't an option, so I sprinted to the sidelines and tried to blend in with the football team as best a guy with striped overalls and an aviator helmet could. The quarterback kneeled the ball a second time, and mayhem ensued.
A mad dash for Iowa's sidelines to recover our precious Floyd of Rosedale was the first order of business. The field goal post was lowered so that the students wouldn't tear it down. We would have. I was amidst the football team as we ran the pig over to the student section and band, where a hearty rendition of the fight song was screamed. (Ski-U-Mah is a Sioux Indian war-cry, and part of the fight song. Now you know.) The mass of people wound around the stadium, growing in number. A number of people would hit me on the helmet and yell, "Thank you!!" To which I would reply, "I'm not on the team, but you're welcome!!" What fun. As the mass dispersed after 10 minutes or so, it re-formed by the band section again for the traditional singing of the Minnesota state hymn after each game. The fight song was heartily performed again, followed by the solemn hymn, with all of the players and fans putting their arms around each other. I put my arm around a police officer on my right and the closest person to my left, The Gophers head coach. As the crowd stumbled through the lyrics, I leaned over to him and said, "You know, if we win more games, I bet we'll learn the lyrics." After this song the players returned to the locker room and I climbed back into the stands, practically skipping home to change clothes for work. I had a great night at work. I wasn't tired at all in church.
Who beat Iowa? WE beat Iowa.
A day to remember.
Iowa Hawkeyes vs. Minnesota Gophers
Who hates Iowa? WE hate Iowa.
For normal people, this was just the Saturday after Thanksgiving. A day most likely spent with family, maybe decorating for Christmas. I'm not normal. I am a proud inaugural member of the new Minnesota Golden Gophers Rooter Club. I'll be honest, it sounds as lame as it is.
I received an email in the first week of the school semester, advertising this new cheering section that would receive prime seating at Gopher football games. I already owned season tickets, and I figured that this would be a good way to ensure that I would have good seats. So I applied, was accepted, and began attending Gopher games. By myself.
The Gophers have a dismal football team. Bad enough that I think I could even have a shot at making the team. That's a bad team. Going into the final game, we had two wins, both coming on the road. We didn't have a home win since the previous year, it was 20 degrees out, our opponents were ranked #24 in the nation, and I was staring down the barrel of a 13 hour night-shift followed by a Sunday at church. After considering all of that, I still decided that I needed to remain faithful to my new school and see the season through to the bitter end.
I donned my ridiculous attire, smiled, and began the walk to the stadium. I arrived about an hour early. The student section had maybe 20 fans. I posted myself at my front row seat (although I never sit during the game) and tried to stay warm. By this point I was beginning my weekly ritual of working myself into the delusion that the Gophers maybe stood a chance of winning. I think it was the fog from the fog machines going to my head. It was crazy to think that way. Regardless, before every game, I would scream myself hoarse, pounding on the player's helmets as they ran out of the tunnel and onto the field. I know, I'm supposed to be an adult, and act like it, but need I remind you I am not normal? Adulthood is boring and comfortable.
As the game began I added a second layer of gloves, immediately regretting slapping helmets in the bitter cold. My fingers hurt. This was it. The final game. The last nail in the season's coffin. The Gophers received the first kickoff. They scored. A touchdown. It wasn't uncommon for the Gophers to tease me like this, so I screamed wildly, but in a subdued sorta way. The Gophers then kicked off. Generally in the first quarter of a game, you do a regular kickoff. The Gophers tried an onside kick and recovered the kick. At this point I immediately abandoned all subtlety and threw all of my emotional capacities into the game. The louder I screamed, the warmer I became, so that was only an encouragement. This is when my delusional thoughts of a victory reached their peak for the season. The Gophers had nothing to lose, and they were playing like it. That's a dangerous team to play, no matter how pathetic they are.
At the end of the first half, the Gophers held a slim lead. This wasn't uncommon, as they always play exponentially worse in the second half. I spent halftime walking through the concourse, trying to bring feeling back to my toes. I also received a lot of odd looks due to my socially unacceptable clothing choices. The third quarter was scoreless. the final fourth quarter began. (As I'm typing this there's an epic movie score playing on Pandora. It's very fitting. And funny. Just pause for a moment and imagine some deep, pulsating bass sounds with flowing strings and increasingly louder brass. Now that the mood is set, back to the story.) The Gophers scored, increasing their lead. Then, as it inevitably happens when I predict tragic events, the Iowa Hawkeyes returned the ensuing kickoff for a touchdown. This also was not an uncommon practice for opposing teams to do. Iowa then scored again, taking the lead in the game for the first time, with only minutes remaining. The Gophers received the kickoff, and with the help of some acrobatic plays, drove down the field for a touchdown, regaining the lead. Usually when the Gophers score, I give bear hugs to everyone around me, whether I've seen them before or not. By this point, our hugs were not wild, crazy celebrations, but instead emotion-filled hopeful embraces, hoping beyond all hope that our misery was possibly over. But we had to kick the ball to Iowa again. They had a couple minutes, which is plenty of time for a team like Iowa to score, dashing our hopes once again, and retaining Floyd of Rosedale, a bronze pig we have been fighting over since 1935, I believe. On the second play of their drive, their running back found a hole and was running toward open field. But we are gophers. And we are sneaky fast. From the running back's blind left side came a Gopher who lowered his head (poor fundamental tackling) and speared the football loose. Fumble. I still remember watching the referee signal that the ball was going in the opposite direction. Gophers recover. If we can get one or two first downs we can run out the clock. My screams would have been primal at this point, but I had lost my voice quite a while earlier, so I sounded more like squealing brakes. I turned to the guy next to me and in the manliest way possible at this point, we embraced, trembling that victory was within our grasp.
The Gophers ran the ball several times. Iowa used their timeouts to stop the clock, leaving one remaining. The Gophers gained a first down. Victory was ours. Victory. Running out the clock was a mere formality. On the next play, as long as Iowa didn't needlessly use their final timeout, the clock would run out and the Gophers would be victorious. I braced myself, leaning against the front railing that separated me from the field. Extra security and police officers were positioned around the field. I did not care. At all. As the quarterback kneeled down, I vaulted myself over the railing and down to the field level, somehow without injuring myself. I shot a few of my trademark furious glances at the security guards, and they moved out of the way. I was on the field sprinting toward the team. When I was near the 50-yard line, the referee came on the sound system and said, "Iowa has used their final timeout." Lame. Scaling the wall back to my seat wasn't an option, so I sprinted to the sidelines and tried to blend in with the football team as best a guy with striped overalls and an aviator helmet could. The quarterback kneeled the ball a second time, and mayhem ensued.
A mad dash for Iowa's sidelines to recover our precious Floyd of Rosedale was the first order of business. The field goal post was lowered so that the students wouldn't tear it down. We would have. I was amidst the football team as we ran the pig over to the student section and band, where a hearty rendition of the fight song was screamed. (Ski-U-Mah is a Sioux Indian war-cry, and part of the fight song. Now you know.) The mass of people wound around the stadium, growing in number. A number of people would hit me on the helmet and yell, "Thank you!!" To which I would reply, "I'm not on the team, but you're welcome!!" What fun. As the mass dispersed after 10 minutes or so, it re-formed by the band section again for the traditional singing of the Minnesota state hymn after each game. The fight song was heartily performed again, followed by the solemn hymn, with all of the players and fans putting their arms around each other. I put my arm around a police officer on my right and the closest person to my left, The Gophers head coach. As the crowd stumbled through the lyrics, I leaned over to him and said, "You know, if we win more games, I bet we'll learn the lyrics." After this song the players returned to the locker room and I climbed back into the stands, practically skipping home to change clothes for work. I had a great night at work. I wasn't tired at all in church.
Who beat Iowa? WE beat Iowa.
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