Represent

Another summer in Fort Knox, KY, is a long and boring adventure with many hours sitting  in the hotel room relearning how to binge watch shows.  However, I am of the mindset that you are responsible for your own entertainment and daily calendar.  That is why as soon as I got here, I looked up races in the Louisville and Ft. Knox area. I signed up for races days or literally hours, knowing full well that I would have to get up early on Saturday and drive somewhere  to run.   

A few early mornings, a few more medals on the wall, let’s go. "Run, run, get some!"

 

I ran the Hometown 5k in, or around, the Parklands Trail near Mt. Washington, KY, a lovely park with miles of trails for running, hiking, and biking.  Maybe there were 200 people there.  I had been running 8:30 miles for fun back home, so clearly, I would be in the pack.  However, within a half mile, I was near the front of the race. At the halfway turn around, I realized there were only two other people in front of me.  It was an out and back race, so I know I wasn’t lost, but third? Then there was the look of the other runners who hadn’t hit the halfway point yet. They looked at me as if to say, “what the hell is that old man doing at the front of the race?!”

With about a half mile to go I realized that there was no one else behind me and the two kids in front of me were probably already done. Third place was mine. First in my age group, “Masters”. Holy smokes. My reward was a plate of pancakes in a small, local diner, in Mt. Washington, KY. A hole in the wall place with a diehard set of Red State customers, a quaint atmosphere, and fantastic food. 

The second race was the Louisville H.E.R.O. 5k at the University of Louisville.  This was a bigger race and clearly there would be more competition.  Another out and back, the race went around parts of the university. It was a little warmer and I wasn’t on my game. Third in my age group. Behind some, ahead of most. I got a neat medal with the script “L” that seems to be everywhere in Louisville. There was a McDonald’s right next door and I had a hankering for a sausage and egg biscuit and coffee. 

 

The third race was at Ft. Knox.  I learned they had a summer race series and the first race was on a Friday night.  The race was titled, Nacho Average 5k…free nachos at the end of the race. When I tried to sign up, I found out the race was sold out, but I went over to the Morale, Welfare, and Recreation (MWR) office the day of the race to see if I could get a cancellation.  The organizer said, “No,” but took my number.  As I was driving back to work, he called to say that he had a bunch of last minute no shows and to come to the starting point of the race ninety minutes before the race.  I made it in with bib number “3”.  It was hot on a Friday night.  Four hundred people showed up, hiding in what shade they could find, stretching.  At least at this race, I knew people. It’s more fun to make small talk with people that you sort of know.

 

Running the heat was a beast. All sun, no shade, but – oddly – mostly downhill. There are not a lot of 59-year-olds on Ft. Knox, so it is safe to say that I was at the top of my age group. Prove me wrong. Unfortunately, the race organizers shorted the course by about a quarter mile-ish. The result was crazy stupid fast times because the timed for a 5k but measured it short. I did not run seven minute miles.  

 

This Saturday I ran the Louisville Bats 5k, the last of my self-titled, Kentucky Four Pack, at the Louisville Slugger Stadium on the Ohio River in downtown Louisville.  I have been to Slugger Stadium before. It is a nice minor league stadium that is like the ballpark in Durham, NC.  This was the biggest race of the four with about 500 runners.

 

The race had a fair hill in the first mile and then went into a residential area where the shade of buildings and trees kept the morning sun off.  The race went in a modified loop, eventually coming back onto itself with about a half mile to go. The last quarter mile was a treat. They opened the back gates to the ballfield, and we ran in the stadium around the warning track, behind home plate, and back out the gate we came in on to the finish line.

 

I must admit, by that time in the race, I was focused on finishing and not sightseeing. I was sure I was doing well (for my age group) and I was in the run – not the moment.  I finished with my characteristic arms-wide, open mouth, happy face finish. I grabbed my fourth medal in four weeks.  Second in my age group by :09 seconds!  My reward was a four egg omelet at a small breakfast place a block over.   

 

So what.

 

The so what is that at my age, I am behind some, but ahead of so many others. It's not a competition - but it is. Life. So many of my demographic who look at physical fitness as something to avoided for fear of injury, or God forbid, being sore. My plan is to be that guy who beats men a third my age and they say afterward, "I got passed at mile two by some old dude who smoked my ass."  

Inspirational longevity with a touch of snobbishness.  Represent.

 

He's Already Done Hard Things. . . and This Mamma Is Proud

TJ just finished his first year of college.

That sentence alone feels big.

A year of new routines, new expectations, and new independence. A year of figuring things out without the familiar rhythms of home. There’s a quiet kind of pride that comes with watching your child step into that—and stay in it.

This semester, TJ took an English class and had an assignment to, naturally, write a paper. He shared an early draft with me earlier in the semester. At first, it felt like a simple assignment—an essay about Camp Sea Gull, about sailing, about a place that has meant so much to our family over the years. But by the end of the semester, it evolved. His professor challenged them to revisit, refine, and deepen their work. It had become something more.

He wrote about fear. About failure. About getting back in the boat when everything in him once said not to. He wrote about doing something hard—and staying with it long enough to change.And reading it now, at the end of his first year of college, it’s hard not to see the connection.

Because this year has asked the same thing of him in different ways:

Show up.
Stick with it.
Figure it out.

There’s something powerful about realizing that the skills we hope our kids are building… they already are. Long before college. Long before we’re ready to see them on their own.

One of the lines from his story that stayed with me most is this: The place that once held his fear is now where he helps others find courage. That kind of growth doesn’t happen overnight. It comes from doing something hard—and then choosing to do it again. And maybe that’s why this moment feels like more than just the end of a school year.

It feels like evidence.

Evidence that he knows how to do hard things.

And as he heads into year two, I hope he remembers that too.

To Make Her Proud

In my latest post, I shared some reflections on TJ finishing his first year of college and mentioned a paper he wrote this semester that really stayed with me.

This is that paper.

What started as an English assignment evolved over the course of the semester into a much deeper and more reflective piece. By the end, it had become the equivalent of a final exam—and he absolutely knocked it out of the park.

To Make Her Proud: The Effects of Fears on Kids

    There it is, Sunfish Beach, brown and beat down from the countless hot summers that it has gone through with little to no repairs. The American flag blows calmly, an extreme contrast to its usual violent bashing against the mast. Sunlight sparkles off the muddy Neuse River, almost hiding its dullish color. Campers my age, counselors years older, and little kids years younger than I am gather around what feels like a sanctuary. For me though this place reeks of past trauma.

    It was the summer of 2022 and my ninth year and final year as a camper at Camp Sea Gull. By the third week of the four-week session, time was running out. If I wanted to accomplish any unfinished goals, I had to act. And one goal stood above the rest, earning my Sunfish Master rank.

    My mom is the biggest reason for me wanting to complete this goal I had set upon myself. She grew up at this same camp and later worked on the sailing staff. Sailing, ironically, was the place I disliked most. It was always her goal to have her kids fall in love with the sea just like she did and I, unlike my brother, came up short of that goal. Years before that summer during orientation I was placed on a sailboat with a friend. The counselors expected us to be unnatural and pick up right where we left off the previous summer. Instead, we got tossed and turned by the high winds and big swells that were out on the Neuse that day. After struggling for an eternity I gave up. I wanted nothing to do with Sailing for as long as I was at camp. As years went on I felt as if I failed to make my mom proud, a fear that resigned deep inside of me. Parenting styles and expectations can have a major role in shaping fears in teens, especially when kids feel pressure to meet those expectations (Haghshenas et al.). I set it upon myself that summer to get on a sailboat and get that rank.

    At 15 years old, it had felt like a long journey to get over my past trauma. Childhood fears often form through experiences and stick around over time, and even more so when tied to emotions or past failures (Muris et al.). Every step I took in the process of getting my Sunfish Master felt like a weight inside of me was being let go. Throughout the week of training I committed to the process and I felt at ease with my decision. My training partner Mitchell and I would sail together almost every activity period even on the highest of wind days. I forced my fear aside and trusted my training. I adjusted to the wind, balanced against the waves, and felt the boat respond beneath me. Sailing started to feel natural and then, unexpectedly, it turned into something close to enjoyment, like my mom felt when she was my age.

    As the week of training came to an end it was time to take the final on-water test. Unlike the previous training sessions before this time I was all by myself. Sailing by myself was a lot different than with Mitchell; I was getting scared again. The fear that I had long ago of sailing was coming back, and not only that, but the fear of disappointing my mom. Fears can return in stressful situations especially when people are put back into the places they connect with negatively (King et al.). I pushed those feelings aside and remembered why I was out there and found the enjoyment I had felt not too long ago. I tightened my grip on the sheet and used the rudder to tack and gybe around the buoys almost perfectly until the counselors came up to my boat to congratulate me. I not only went on a sailboat but I got my Sunfish Master rank which I knew deep down was for my mom and to make her proud.

    On closing day I showed my mom my red US Sailing handbook and the certificate tucked inside. She had no idea I had even attempted the rank and when she saw it, her face lit up. Children, in most cases, seek approval from their parents and getting that approval can have a big impact on their confidence and self-worth (Davis). In that moment I understood what the long hours, the fear, and the frustration had been for.

    Now that I am older, I have returned to Camp Sea Gull as a sailing counselor. The same beach that once felt like a place of failure has become the place where I build courage in campers. Research shows that summer camps help build confidence, independence, and leadership skills which is what I now try to develop in my campers day in and day out (Benefits of Summer Camps). After earning my Sunfish Master rank, I set a new goal, to help my campers fall in love with sailing just like my mom and I did.

P.S. "I'm not crying, you're crying."