The Seeker

A Meta-Cognitive Journal About Writing… Plus Other Stuff

Thirty 5Ks…#21-23 (The Blessed Single Digits)

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The chiropractor told me last week that my hips were out.  Like, pretty far out.  And not in the groovy way, baby.  More like the right hip was in Waukegan and the left hip was in Round Lake.  And then she asked what the hell happened, and I pulled the list out of my pocket:  I’ve been running, I’m getting older, I’m drag-ass tired from the school year, and I weigh 200+ pounds.  Thus, my hips are out.  It was a good time to talk about avoiding injury, and for me to remember that a lot of athletic injuries are caused by poor form and exhaustion, and exhaustion can cause poor form.  So what to do?  Keep running, of course.  Duh.

Actually, if not for being on this quest, I would have laid off running 5Ks by now.  I usually do at this time of year because of the stress and exhaustion from the previous 8 months of teaching.  When I don’t let up, I get about halfway through a race and start wondering what the hell I’m doing, how I’m going to get to the end, and why has every force in the universe conspired against me to make me feel like crap?  And then I wonder why I hyperbolize so much, and thinking about that pretty much helps me get through the race.  I usually feel like crap at the end and am unduly sore for a few days afterward.  So yeah, this is a good time of year to not be running.  But I have been.  I ran more 5Ks in April than any month so far, and that meant doubling up two weekends in a row so I can knock my thirty down to a manageable number, and then into single digits well before the school year is over.  And of course all that meant that I’m still tired and not running very well.  And I’m courting injury.

“Everything is against me… Nothing is going right for me.”

Thankfully, other runners know your pain and frustration.  Sometimes they don’t mind if you draft off them if you’re lucky enough to find someone running the right pace for you.  That’s what I did when I was knocking out #23 two weekends ago.  Under normal circumstances, I’d probably be facing prosecution if I chased a middle-aged woman through Lincoln Park.  In fact, given the state of Chicago policing, I’d probably have a bunch of crimes pinned on me and would be tortured until I confessed to them.  Nonetheless, there I was a few steps behind and at times abreast of a women in her fifties who was running with headphones on.  The pace was slower than what I usually maintain, but I wasn’t caring about time so much as I was caring about getting through the race and getting one step closer to thirty.  She pulled ahead by thirty or forty feet after two and a half miles, and I didn’t have it in me keep up.  I did thank her at the end, though, for pacing me.  She said she was happy to oblige, and had herself paced off others numerous times when she wasn’t quite feeling a running groove.  I recalled being the inadvertent and unintentional pacer for a guy who finished behind me at Great Lakes late last summer.  I didn’t even see him throughout the race, but he tracked me down at the end and told me thanks for setting the pace for him.

I frequently think about what it is about running that makes runners so stubborn and disciplined, and many times it comes back to how you learn self-sufficiency early on when you start running.  Nobody is going to be out on the course pulling or pushing you along.  You have to do it yourself.  While that may be true, the race two weekends ago was a good reminder that it’s not so lonely out there sometimes.

Written by seeker70

May 22, 2017 at 2:13 pm

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Thirty 5Ks… #18-20 (inescapable truths)

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“Viral diarrhea,” my high school Cross Country coach said thirty years ago, “stops for no man.”  I thought that surely he wasn’t talking to me.  I could barely run, and I certainly couldn’t run fast enough to catch viral diarrhea.

Boy, how I wish I had listened.  It took me thirty years, but I finally caught it.  And boy, did it run it’s course.  It left me as a weakened, dehydrated shell of my former self who was afraid to pass gas for fear of passing something far more sinister.

But I’m over it and back on the quest, despite running a mere week after the affliction and feeling weak, hot, and just bummed out in a way I never feel when I run.  Musta been the viral diarrhea.  I can’t help but feel my mortality, too, the feeling of which seems to be as inescapable as my shadow since I tripped past the halfway point between forty and fifty last summer.  I can’t bounce back from sickness like I used to, and that is most obvious in how I can or cannot command my physical self.  Fear not, though.  I’m still stubborn.  That may be the everlasting gift from all this running.  So despite running a ragged, slow race two weeks ago, I laced up my Asics twice last weekend.  It wasn’t really about the time, though I fared better two weeks out from viral diarrhea than I had only a week removed from it.  It was more about this quest and getting my goal down to a manageable single digit before school lets out for the summer.  As it stands right now, I have ten more races to do within ninety-seven days.

This has absolutely nothing to do with running.

One thought that sustained and inspired me as I worked back into form from viral diarrhea was that the writers and producers of Orange is the New Black may have finally capitulated and given up their no good show-ruining flashbacks.  I read two weeks ago that the new season will take place over the span of three days.  It seems unlikely that new characters will be introduced, and the action in the prison is so intense just now that maybe the whole thirteen-episode will unwind through total forward momentum.  I can’t think of a better thing they could do with the series, and lobbied for such a few years ago when I was thinking about OITNB.  If this comes to fruition, maybe we’ll be looking at the best season to date of the series.  I hope so.

The actress who plays the profile character Piper (yawn) said what is the most reassuring thing anybody has said about the series:

“I think the stakes are higher in this season than they have been in a while just by virtue of the compressed time and seeing people in compressed circumstance really raises the stakes.”

The idea of forward momentum and compressed time and unity of setting were all hard lessons learned by me as a writer, and they are definitely what I mandate as a Creative Writing teacher, so I can’t wait to see what happens.

*I used the term “viral diarrhea” five times in this blog post.

Written by seeker70

April 25, 2017 at 7:53 pm

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Wait ‘Til This Year

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Such words, I’m sure, have hardly ever been spoken by Cubs fans.  At least not after June most years, last year being the exception.  But, I’ll say them:  Wait ’til this year.  I think the Cubs can do it again.  I’m not willing to bet on it just yet, but I’m feeling optimistic.  But it’s a long season, and a lot of things can happen.

First, the Cubs didn’t win the World Series by accident, mostly.  It was carefully plotted by the owners and the general manager over the course of several years, and it wasn’t merely a matter of finding the right coach and the right players.  They had to fight the fan base and slay the horrible nostalgia dragon, which I’ve written about before herein.  They accomplished that, though, and having the right players and the mostly right manager helped put the whole puzzle together.  Going to a Cubs game is a different experience these days, evidenced by a change in fan behaviors and the physical geography of Wrigleyville.  It was a matter of taking the team and the fan base to rehab, and after their 28 days not only going back home but creating all kinds of different routines and habits that wouldn’t lead back to the same-old same-old.

So I said the “mostly” right manager.  Check your baseball sources, and you’ll see that Joe Maddon did plenty in the post-season last year that could have caused the Cubs to lose.  He ain’t no calculating Tony LaRussa or cunning and conniving Earl Weaver, but he is a respectable baseball mind even if his mind sometimes runs astray.  He has a luxury in being able to experiment with things because he has the talent stacked behind him that can make up for his mistakes.  His latest experiment is abandoning speed at the top of the order in favor of power.  I’m not in favor of it because I’m more of a traditionalist in terms of how you line up your batters.  Even right now, as I’m watching Game 1, the Cardinals are leading because of their speed.  I won’t be surprised if that holds and the Cards win, nor will I be surprised if speedy teams or teams with excellent managers beat up on the Cubs this year.  I’m looking at you, Dodgers and Giants and Mets and Cardinals.

But team speed won’t be the sole deciding factor.  Earl Weaver probably said it best years ago when he addressed team speed:

“Team speed for chrissakes, you get fuckin’ goddam little fleas on the fuckin’ bases, getting picked off, tryin’ to steal, gettin’ thrown out, takin’ runs away from you, get them big cocksuckers that can hit the fuckin’ ball out the ballpark and ya can’t make any goddam mistakes.”

So teams don’t necessarily need speed, though it is a luxury that can get you out of a lot of trouble throughout a season, especially in the playoffs.  Still, no matter how fast your team is, or how many home runs they hit, they won’t go any further than their pitching can take them.  It doesn’t matter if you’re the White Sox or the Brewers or the Cubs—pitching still dominates.  Thankfully the Cubs have plenty of it, even if they are a bit testy in the back end of the bullpen as the season opens.  And regardless of how good the pitching is that they will face, the opposition will still have to face Schwarber, Bryant, and Rizzo more than they face anybody else in the Cubs lineup.  That trio at the top of the order will win the Cubs a lot of games.  Hopefully Joe Maddon won’t screw things up from there, though I won’t be surprised if at some point Javier Baez is batting lead-off and the trifecta of S-B-R drops into the traditional 2-3-4 spots.

I don’t quite know why I’m worrying about things like this right now.  I guess I’m just glad baseball is back and I don’t have to wade through anymore ridiculous pre-season crap.  It’s all good now, but I won’t really pick up the baseball spirit until mid-summer, after my interests in soccer have played out and I can sit and watch (and listen!) to games on a consistent basis.  There will be plenty of games left to watch, and hopefully I can continue into late October.

Written by seeker70

April 2, 2017 at 10:46 pm

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Thirty 5Ks… #16 and 17 (Doesn’t everybody think about racing for St. Paddy’s Day?)

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A few weeks ago, I was thinking that it would be no mean feat to run a 5K in Chicago on the day the city designated to observe St. Patrick’s Day.  I expected the relief stations to be stocked with Jameson instead of water, and was prepared to hurdle piles of green puke.  Turns out I was thinking too much of the typical Chicago St. Paddy’s Day celebration when I should instead have been concerned about the weather.  It was below freezing with wind chills in the teens when I showed up in Lincoln Park three Saturday’s ago.  The only good thing going was that the sun was out, and thank St. Paddy himself that I was wearing black tights and a black sweatshirt.  They were two of the three protections I had against the cold, the third being heating myself up by actually running.

It wasn’t pretty.  The wind along the lake pelted everybody for half the race.  I could never normalize my breathing since the wind was pressing against my chest so much.  Thankfully, there was no snow or ice to deal with, and only one homeless person to work around who was entrenched in the tunnel we ran through underneath Lake Shore Drive.  It was around the halfway point when I started to ask myself why the hell I was still trying to run thirty 5Ks.  Hadn’t I given up the quest two and a half months prior after a stellar Christmas Day race?  Hadn’t I decided that outdoor runs were too infrequent and too taxing on my body throughout the winter?  Hadn’t I come to my senses?  Well, no, I hadn’t done any of those things.  I might have thought about them, but being a runner means you’re stubborn.  So there I was, packed beneath a thick sweatshirt and plodding along the shores of Lake Michigan, wondering why I hadn’t slept in and stayed warm and picked the quest back up at some other time when the winds weren’t howling and I wasn’t more concerned with where The Girlfriend and I were going to go to get our St. Paddy’s on.

Races come to an end, though, and that one certainly did.  I finished in decent time, considering I’m still the kid who was the slowest runner on the Angola High School cross country team back in ’86-’87.  The best thing that came from the race was that I finally reached past the halfway point with this absurd idea to match races with the number of years I’ve been running.  The sun rose again two Saturday’s ago, and The Girlfriend and I drove down to Deer Park for another St. Patrick’s Day-themed run.  Similar weather conditions, though not as cold.  There was a lot of wind, and twice as many runners.  I wasn’t hopeful about my results, but I broke the finish line at 26:46, fifth in my age division, and then I dodged broken glass.  Some genius had the idea to give away pint glasses to finishers.  You picked yours up at the finish line, and though you probably wouldn’t have been swilling Jameson as you ran, some post-race symptoms are similar to having done that–the jitters, the unsteadiness on your feet.  The urge to puke.  So people dropped their glasses and they broke.  Others glasses got knocked off tables or blown over.  The race wasn’t billed as being on a challenge course, but it ended up that way.  I was happy to make it home with my pint glass intact, but the second I went to wash it I saw a crack down the side of it.  I introduced it to my recycling bin.

Oh well.  I got in a pair of races at a time much earlier than I usually resume running outdoors, and turned in a pretty good time at one of them.  I feel good about keeping after myself with fitness and staying at least near running condition over the winter.  Now the goal is to knock this quest down to the single digits before summer, and hopefully put it to bed long before August happens.

Written by seeker70

March 28, 2017 at 12:22 pm

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How I’m Managing, or What I Think About When I Think About Trump (pt.2)

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…continued from yesterday…

My research didn’t come out of the blue.  Given what was happening on the political scene last year at this time, it seemed  that a major candidate from one of the parties was saying or doing something that smacked of arrogance on a daily basis.  I found myself flashing to thoughts of Dan most every day last year as this ugly scene unfolded.  The things he said still rang clearly in my head.  Finally, I looked around on the internet.

What I didn’t know at the time of my interview with Dan was that I was talking with the Indiana Teacher of the Year for 1995.  Also, Dan had collected further acclaim as a Milken Educator for some innovating pedagogical strategies he developed and implemented in the Evansville school district.  The Milken Awards people refer to their recognition as the “Oscars” of teaching and seek out “…early-to-mid career education professionals for their already impressive achievements and, more significantly, for the promise of what they will accomplish in the future.”

Eventually, Dan left Indiana all together and took a position as a principal at a high school in South Carolina.  He lasted nine years before somebody tested him on the claim he made to me about knowing how to cheat.

I discovered that for his final two years as a principal, Dan changed two hundred and fourteen grades for thirty-three students.  According to what I read, grades were changed from failing to passing, and Dan said he did it to provide motivation to students he felt had worked hard and deserved a break.  His considerations did not, however, include his district’s policies for changing grades.  At least one teacher complained about this to the right people, and those people concluded through an investigation that Dan had done exactly what the teacher accused him of doing.  He not only broke district policy, but state law.  The superintendent demanded Dan resign, and he did.  He later surrendered his administration credentials to the South Carolina Department of Education.

None of this surprised me when I read it last year.  I was actually pleased in many ways.  I could list about ten administrators I’ve known in my career who I’d like to see get caught for stunts they pulled.  Invariably, their reasoning comes back to the most tired excuse in public education:  Trying to help students.  By a cursory examination of the numbers alone, Dan changed six or seven grades per student, and could have wiped out an entire semester or academic year of failing grades for a student.  It’s unclear to me how that helps a student, except in the immediate circumstance of them failing and potentially not graduating.  However, the consequences of Dan’s decision are tremendous.  He completely nullified the judgment exercised by the teachers who saw those students every day, and ignored the standards those teachers set.  Plus, students got the idea from an authority figure that they can work around difficulties in their lives.  I could go on and on about this issue, but suffice it to say illicitly changing grades is a serious offense.  That’s why school districts have substantive policies in regard to how it’s done, and why states have laws that apply to how it’s done.

It’s not uncommon for teachers to have a strong bent towards social justice, and I am no exception in that regard.  I want to see things done the correct way and according to policies that I am mandated to follow, and it bothers me when people who are in leadership positions flaunt authority and act with impunity.  It seems I wasn’t the only one bothered by Dan’s unprofessional and unethical behaviors (I never thought I was, not with how blatant he was with me over a mere few hours of interaction), but finally somebody stepped up and Dan had to face the consequences for his selfish, short-sighted decisions.  There was overwhelming, irrefutable evidence of him going too far.  I cling to this thought and to the understanding that our country in many ways is built on the idea of accountability and fairness from the top of the government all the way down to the private citizen.  I’m heartened by the fact that Dan was caught and punished, and I’m hoping that more of the same happens at a much higher level in regard to someone who seems to have been a role model for how Dan conducted himself.

 

Written by seeker70

March 14, 2017 at 9:16 pm

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How I’m Managing, or What I Think About When I Think About Trump (pt.1)

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In the spring of 1995, I received a call from Dan, a teacher at a high school in Evansville, Indiana.  He said he wanted to interview me for an English and Speech Coach position.  I was game since I was two years out of undergrad without a job and was eager for a contract.  The offers were just starting to roll in since I had completed an English endorsement to supplement my teaching license, and I was willing to go wherever whenever.

I bisected the state of Indiana from northeast to southwest, about 700 miles round-trip, to meet with Dan and see what he had to offer.  The school was huge, with very modern facilities and a football stadium carved out of a hillside in back of the building.  I was impressed, too, with an administrator I met along the way who had perfect command of what I would come to call a “firm but kind” approach with students.  She knew names, had made connections with students, and was firm but kind with the number of them she interacted with when I talked to her while she was patrolling the cafeteria during lunch.  It was clear that students liked and respected her quite a bit.

Dan, however, was a different entity.  He showed me around the school, but he didn’t walk so much as he strutted.  The pager he had clipped to his belt lent him an air of authority.  At one point along the way, we came across a teacher walking towards us who was very pregnant.  She was wearing a pair of shorts, so I assumed she was a Physical Education teacher.  Dan called down the hall to her, “Hey, sexy legs!”  She replied with a wave and hello and turned into an office before we had any further contact.  Later, Dan spoke to me about some of the other teaching faculty around the building.  He soon got to talking about a trio of young female teachers from a few years prior who, he indicated, liked to flirt with him.  One sat on his desk one day after school and talked to him; a student had seen the interaction and made some vague negative comment to Dan.  Dan told me that he referred to the young and allegedly flirtatious teachers as “The Whore Corps.”

It turned out that I had gained Dan’s interest because of my theatre experience.  He headed the school’s maverick Speech Team, and there were forensic events I could coach that would suit the skill set I had developed as an undergrad.  He talked for quite a while about his Speech Team, and justifiably so.  They had won the state title that year (they would go on to win several more), and would soon become a national power.  Dan bragged that he had a cross-section of the student body represented on the team, and that it wasn’t uncommon for a Speech Team member to come to practice after school and then leave for football practice because the kid might be a varsity offensive lineman.  Dan also disclosed one way he recruited kids when he was establishing the team:  “I’d go to the basketball courts after school and take on kids in one-on-one.  I told them if I won, they were on the Speech Team.  And I usually won.  Because I know how to cheat.”

I didn’t get the job in Evansville, and Dan told me as much in the presence of another teacher he was interviewing.  I was never much bothered by the news, if not the approach to hearing it.  I had interviews rolling in throughout the spring and summer, and had a feeling that I just had to be patient and the right one would appear.  If nothing else, my trip to Evansville was practice for what was to come.  Turns out I was right, and the right job that I found took me in a far different direction geographically and professionally than working with and for Dan would have.

Dan’s sheer arrogance and unprofessional conduct have stuck with me these many years.  I wish I had spoken to his principal or superintendent about the things he said, if only for peace of mind.  All of Dan’s behaviors came in the course of an afternoon, and they rolled out of him like he always conducted himself in such a brazen manner.  I can’t imagine what someone who worked with him for a long period of time might list as his arrogant behaviors.  The word “arrogant” keeps coming up here, and that’s why Dan still comes to mind twenty-two years later.  “Arrogant” is a word I seldom associate with teachers.  Arrogance is not usually a personality trait of a person who works for a mediocre income at ground-level with children and teenagers, tirelessly endeavoring to help them improve their skills and station in life no matter where they are.  I may be biased when I make this claim, but teachers are some of the most humble people I know.  On the other hand, the most arrogant people I’ve known in education have either been college professors or school administrators.  I don’t know about the former, but Dan became the latter about ten years after I met him.  I wasn’t surprised to find that out when I googled his name.

continued tomorrow…

 

Written by seeker70

March 13, 2017 at 7:19 pm

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The U2 Dilemma pt.2

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…continued from yesterday:

The only regret I’ve experienced with The Joshua Tree was missing the tour.  The most viable place close to me where U2 stopped was The Hoosier Dome on November 1, 1987.  It was a Sunday night.  It was three hours from home.  I was seventeen.  The question didn’t even fully leave my mouth before my father said, “Hell no.”  I have lived with that regret ever since.  But that hasn’t been too horrible of a burden to bear.  I saw U2 twice on my own terms when I still considered myself a fan.  And besides, The Joshua Tree is now a quantified, calculated entity entombed in the morass that makes me me.  I have lived within its universe comfortably and prosperously for thirty years.  I always know what it has to offer, and am grateful for the coming-of-age landscape to which it transports me when I hear a single or listen to the whole album.  But that’s also why I now have a U2 dilemma.

The album is thirty years old this year.  Not surprisingly, U2 has seen good cause to tour, with the album as their featured piece.  My understanding is that they will play the album in its entirety, and follow up with other stuff.  They’ll be at Soldier Field in early June, and I know with certainty that I can get tickets.  But do I want to get tickets?  Dunno.

download-2

Here’s the catch:  Can I go see a band that I can no longer stomach, even if they are featuring an album that has left an indelible print on my life?  I don’t know if I can suppress my disdain enough, or even long enough, to find enjoyment in what they bring.  Also, what if I decide to go and get hyped up about it…  and the show sucks?  I fear that I will have compromised something sacred to my life, only to see it screwed up.  And then the next time I listen to The Joshua Tree, and probably times subsequent to that, I will replay an unfortunate concert experience in my mind.  The whole thing could potentially desecrate something I hold sacred, and I’m not sure I could overcome that.  And I’m damn well sure that I will be listening to The Joshua Tree, or wanting to, a whole helluva lot of times between now and the time my eardrums surrender to old age.

But what if U2 brings their game?  What if this is a breakthrough for them and ends up being a transcendent and sublime experience for them and the audience?  What if it ends up elevating The Joshua Tree to somewhere in my mind that I don’t even know exists?  A good friend whose opinion I respect pointed out to me that chances like this are very rare, and get even rarer the deeper we get into life.  The band is still together.  They are the original lineup that created the album, and they’ve been intact all these years.  I only stand to gain by taking advantage of what will essentially be dropped in my lap.

What if all of this angst is shallow existential bullshit and angst brought on by the corrosive effects of mass-marketing and the fiendish plot by record executives to play on nostalgia to put butts in seats?

A U2 dilemma indeed.  I’ve got three months to think about it.  It could come down to a game-time decision.

Written by seeker70

February 22, 2017 at 8:22 pm

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