2023

It's time to say a goodbye to 2023.  New Year's Eve morning.  Sunday.  Portland Brew.  Jude and the boys are still in bed and I'm patiently waiting for my first cup of coffee.

I had Covid-19, again, to start the year.  Late January to early February.  Fortunately, I didn't feel as poorly as I did the first time around, in 2022.  

Work was, well, work.  More trial work or, at least, more cases that didn't settle easily.  A very difficult case that settled a week or so before trial, in mid-November.  Slightly few mediations, I think, because I had fewer available days on my calendar to mediate for others.

My partner's wife fought colon cancer, successfully, but it was a tough year for her, for sure.  A close high school friend was diagnosed with a brain tumor.  He won't outlive it but the news has been better lately.  He even started a text string about the bowl games yesterday.  My other partner has a second hip replacement right before Christmas. 

Sport, sports, and more sports for the boys.  

Basketball and baseball for JP in 8th grade, followed by travel baseball over the summer.  A trip with JP to the Tri-Cities in East Tennessee was a highlight for me, although not necessarily for the baseball.  Getting away with JP, on our own, was nice.  This fall, more travel baseball, cross country, and now, basketball.

Basketball and baseball for Joe last winter and spring.  Club soccer for Armada in spring and fall, which included a trip Joe and I took to Chattanooga.  It was enjoyable to spend some one-on-one time with Joe.  Travel baseball this fall for Joe wasn't anything to write home about in terms of how he performed as the youngest member of the team and the conflicts with soccer games.  The practices were great for Joe's development, though, and I'm interested to see how he progresses as a baseball player moving forward.  Joe ran cross country for the 5th/6th grade team at USN.  He came into his own as a full-time goalie for his Armada soccer team this fall and played particularly well at the last tournament of the season, in Murfreesboro.  In basketball, he didn't make a Stars' team after   three days of tryouts, which was intensely disappointing to him (and me), but life goes on.  

Baseball in spring was different, for sure, after Joe and his original Junior Dodgers teammates initially were left without a team as a result of the unexpected and inexplicable duplicity of Oliver Davis.  Our friendship was ruptured beyond repair because of Oliver's actions and, more significantly, the fact that he refused to acknowledge Joe or any of his teammates on the baseball field later in the spring and in the fall.  

In terms of individual performances, JP pitched a complete game in a 1 - 0 loss to David Lipscomb in the HVAC middle school tournament last spring.  Gutsy, dominant pitching performance and an all around great baseball game.  He smoked a base hit to left center field, too, in the bottom of the last inning, off Lipscomb's best pitcher, only to be forced out at second base.  Watching his teammates - most of whom were 7th graders - line up to congratulate him for pitching his balls off was a special moment for me.  

This fall, Joe put out the fire for the Dodgers, in a late season game we really, really wanted to win.  I wrote about it at the time but as I recall it now, I still get goose bumps thinking about his focus and determination in saving the game for his team.  

Jude and took the boys on a trip to California - San Diego and Santa Monica - for our summer vacation.  The highlight, of course, was seeing baseball games at Petco Park and Dodger Stadium.  I've written about that, too, but taking in two games at Dodger Stadium was a little like going to baseball heaven for all of us.  It was a trip all of us will remember, I think.

The entire cross country season for JP's MBA varsity team was, well, a dream.  It culminated in MBA's first ever trip to NXN (Nike Cross Country Nationals) in Portland, OR, after the team unexpectedly finished in second place at the NXR in Cary, NC.  We had a fantastic trip to Portland, OR, to watch the boys race.  

For me, coming out of retirement to coach Joe's Dodgers a final team, in fall baseball, was a personal highlight.  The experience was something I wanted, and needed, to bookend my baseball coaching career, as it were.  I will never, ever forget how special it was and how good it felt to be coaching my own team of Dodgers again.  Late practices on Tuesday nights with the boys and calling the shots at games on Saturdays were so memorable, particularly with the realization that it was the end of the line for the Dodgers, and for me as a head coach.  The fall season has a little bit of everything, just as I hoped it would. 

In terms of individual accolades for the boys, at the junior school graduation last May, JP was awarded best athlete fo the junior school.  That was big for him because he doesn't play football or wrestle for MBA.  To our surprise - shock, really - he also was selected as the best boy of the junior school, an enormous honor.  Jude and I had tears in our eyes as the retiring head of school, Brad Gioia, presented him with the award.  Amazing.

This fall, Joe's favorite teacher, John Kleiner, sent Joe (and us) and e-mail that made my day, month, and year.  In his own inimitable fashion, John described Joe as an "influencer" in the classroom.  Not an internet influencer but as a true leader, because of the way he treated others, participated in class, and through his leadership and the example he set.  Also amazing and more evidence that Jude and I are blessed beyond belief to have the boys we have. 

I kept running throughout the year, although my total mileage wasn't what I hoped it would be.  I finished the year strong, though, and I'll hit 20 + weekly miles today for the last week of the year, something I only accomplished one or two times throughout the year.

We spent some time in Sewanee for fall break and Thanksgiving break and, as always, had a blast. 

JP, learner's permit in hand, drove throughout the year, mostly with Jude.  I felt like I was at Disneyland, on Mister Toad's Wild Ride, with no way off every time he drove my truck with me riding shotgun.  

There's more, so much more, but that's all for now.

Suffice to say, all of us are blessed beyond belief.  

Goodbye 2023.  Hello, 2024.

The Elf, Diehard, and the Joe of Being Joe

Sometimes I find myself at a loss for words when I try to describe Joe to someone who hasn't spent any time around him.  

He's whip smart, especially when it comes to sports.  His vocabulary is incredible, probably because he is a voracious reader.  Friends who meet him for the first time often remark that talking to him is like talking to an adult.  He's friendly and, in most situations, confident.  He's a leader in the classroom and on the athletic fields.  He's very competitive.  He can be stubborn, more so than JP, but not in a bad way.  He's more determined than stubborn in certain situations.  

Joe has a great sense of humor.  His laughs easily.  Great smile, too.  Joe has a light in him, I think, that shines brightly on all of those around him.  He seemed to radiate a goodness.  A kindness.  I know I'm biased but he's just that kid, you know?  The one that other kids want to be around.  The one that adults enjoy talking to in a way that's different from most other kids.  

I've written about this before but at least for now, there is still a childlike innocence about Joe.  A naïveté that, to me, is sweet and precious.  It's fragile, I think, because at almost 12 years of age, he's soon to begin to experience life - girls, friends, school, news, pre-teen angst - in a completely different way.  I thought that would begin to happen in his 11th year but to my relief, it didn't.  He's still Joe.  Happy go lucky, inquisitive, wide eyed, and innocent (that word again).  Relatively unscathed by the harder parts of life, like untrodden ground early in the morning after an unexpected night of heavy snow.  

For example, last year Jude and I assumed Cooper the Elf was visiting us for the last time.  We were wrong, thankfully, as it became apparent in late November that Joe was imbued with enough Christmas magic for Cooper the Elf to spend another December at our house, moving around from night to night.  To out delight, Joe began asking if December 1 was the date when Cooper the Elf returned.  He believed, which to be truthful, filled my heart with joy.  So, of course, Joe got up every day in December and roamed the house looking for Cooper the Elf, laughing at whatever clever place in which he hid himself.

Then, on December 23, Joe decided it was time to leave his Christmas list with Cooper the Elf, so he could take it to Santa Claus overnight.  Jude and I laughed and suggested that Santa Claus might like Joe to send his Christmas list a little earlier next year but Joe was undeterred.  Sure enough, the list was gone when Joe found Cooper the Elf on the mantle on the morning of Christmas Eve, as Joe pointed out to us with a satisfied look on his face.  

Here's the funny part . . . to me, anyway.  

JP, Joe, and I watched Diehard for the first time a couple of nights before Christmas.  Joe absolutely loved it.  Total buy-in and a spirited discussion afterwards about whether Diehard is a Christmas movie or not.  (Joe said "no," while JP and I said "yes.")

Completely undeterred by the violence in Diehard - or Mission Impossible or John Wick 1 and 2 for that matter - Joe loves action films.  

And, yet, he believes in Santa Claus (and Cooper the Elf), which is a beautiful thing.

That's the joy of being Joe and, I should say, the joy of being Joe's father.

  

Covid-19 Christmas (Part 2)

For the second Christmas in a row, Jude tested positive for Covid-19.  I hate it for her because she has been holed up in our bedroom - the Covid cave - all week long.  Like last year, she will be out of isolation on Christmas Eve but will have to wear a mask for five days thereafter.

Joe didn't feel well Wednesday morning but tested negative for Covid-19 when I gave him a home test.  However, when I picked him up from aftercare at school Wednesday evening, he was lethargic and clearly not himself.  I ran him over to the secret Vanderbilt Walk-In Clinic on Belcourt Avenue and had him tested.  Fortunately, he tested negative for strep, Covid-19, and the flu.  Sore throat, congested, and a cough.  Not fun for Joe but not Covid-19.

As a precaution and because he was only scheduled to have a half day at school, we decided to keep Joe him on Thursday and let him rest.  His class was watching a movie and not getting any real work done on the last school day before Christmas break, so we felt comfortable giving him the day off.

JP tested negative for Covid-19, too.  His last school event for the semester was a basketball game against David Lipscomb on Thursday afternoon.  The freshman team earned a much needed victory, although nobody played particularly well against a weak opponent.  Before the game, I told JP to do two things - have fun and play with confidence.  Actually, that's kind of my approach to life, as I told him.  I'm not sure he did either one of them during the game but it's all part of the process.  He's going to have a game, soon, where he lets the ball fly and gets shots up.

I passed my Covid-19 test when I ran 4 miles the last couple of day at slightly over an 8 minute/mile pace.  That's quicker than normal for me but felt good both days, so I pushed the pace a little bit.  It's nice to finish the year with reasonably strong runs, since I've had an inconsistent year overall with my running.  I dealt with my own case of Covid-19 last January, followed by a lingering head cold in February.  More low back pain than normal didn't help, either.  I never really found my stride - pun intended - and the long runs I had hoped for in 2023 were few and far between.  Still, brick by brick, mile by mile, I kept running. I also added in late night walking (and listening to podcasts), too.

Yesterday, after running errands and stopping by the office to deliver Christmas gifts to the staff and other attorneys, I drove home with plans to get a run in before dark.  To my great good fortune, JP was about to go for a run when I arrived home.  He waited for me to change clothes and stretch, then we ran together.

JP and I don't run together as much anymore, which makes the runs I get with him all the more special and memorable.  He inspires me to run harder and to push myself when we run together.  Yesterday was no different, as I set the pace, early, at 8:05/mile or so.  For now, that's on the upper end of where I can run comfortably, although I could get under 8:00/mile and be okay.  My point is that while I was working reasonably hard yesterday and running on the outside edge of my comfort zone, JP was running effortlessly.  Breathing easy.  Cruising.  

It's a beautiful thing, as a father and a longtime runner, to share a run with him.  As we ran up Belmont Boulevard toward the end of our run, I told him, breathlessly, I was stopping at 4 miles.  I turned left on Elmwood Avenue and he kept running down Belmont Boulevard, finishing later after 5 1/2 miles or so.  As I watched JP run down Belmont Boulevard, picking up the pace, Harry Chapin's classic tune, The Cats in the Cradle played in my mind.

My boy is just like me. 

My childhood friend, Greg Westfall, was in town with his wife.  In a telephone conversation a couple of days ago, he mentioned that he'd gotten our Christmas card.  Laughing, he told me that in looking at the cross country photos of JP on the card, he couldn't believe how much he looked like I did at the same age. Greg would know, too, because we have been friends for more than 40 years.  

The next day, JP and I were at the Walgreens pharmacy, picking up a prescription.  The pharmacist technician, who was ringing our order up, stopped suddenly and looked at us.  Smiling, she said, "ya'll look like twins!"  JP and I laughed.  

My boy is just like me.

R.I.P. Frank Wychek

Truthfully, it was hard for me to type the title of this post.  I can't believe Frank Wychek died on Saturday at the age of 52.  So young.  So very, very sad.

This is one of those strange times when I find myself profoundly affected by the death of someone I never met.  I've been processing this all week and trying to understand why Frank's death hit me so hard on a personal level.  I want to be clear, too, that I'm not minimizing the tragedy or the devastating impact on his  family, particularly his two daughters and three grandchildren.

Frank was an all pro tight end in the early years of the Tennessee Titans.  Along with Eddie George and Steve McNair, his every man, lunch bucket approach to football personified those Titans' teams that came within a yard of beating the Rams in Super Bowl XXXIV.  Blue collar, tough, hard to play against.  That was the Titans of the late '90's and early 2000's.

In those days, I never missed a Titans' home game.  It was still hard to believe, at that point in time, that Nashville had an NFL team.  My law partner, Mark, and I had season tickets in the club section.  With other friends, we tailgated before every game, in the heat of early September or the bitter cold of late December.  It was a production, too, with charcoal grilling, all kinds of food, and a lot of beer.  Often times, we tailgated again after the game as we waited for traffic to thin out so we could head home.  This, of course, is before most of us had children.  The Sunday noon Titans' games were a focal point of our social lives.  

After his career ended, Frank replaced Pat Ryan as doing color commentary on the Titans' radio broadcasts with Mike Keith.  He also teamed up with Kevin Ingram and Mark Howard on 104.5 The Zone for what became the most popular morning radio show in middle Tennessee for more than a decade.  The chemistry  between Kevin, Mark and Frank was easy and natural, like catching radio lightning in a bottle.  Because of what I believe was his declining physical and emotional health, Frank left both jobs with little fanfare and became somewhat of a recluse.  It was strange, to me, for someone who had been in the public eye for so long, and seemed to enjoy it, to virtually disappear.  

Although the details aren't fully known, what has been reported is that Frank died at his house in Chattanooga after a fall in which he hit his head.  The fact that he had dealt with significant health issues due to multiple concussions and head trauma during his football career was the worst kept secret in town.  Losing Frank Wychek at such a young age makes me feel, unquestionably, that the fame and fortune that came with being an All Pro NFL tight end were not an even trade for the pain and anguish he endured after he retired and, of course, his untimely death.  

I've thought about my mom a lot since Frank died.  She loved him as a player, for sure, and maybe loved him even more as a radio personality.  My mom often called me on the mornings, on her way home from working the night shift at Baptist Hospital, to tell me about an argument she had heard Frank and Mark Howard having on the radio.  She loved the Wake-Up Zone and Frank, Mark, and Kevin so much.  

For the first time in years, I tuned in to a local radio sport talk show so I could hear Paul Kuharsky talk about Frank Wychek for the hour he was on the air.  Listening to Paul and his stories brought back a lot of memories for me of a time when the sport scene in Nashville was completed different than it is now.  In those days, what sports columnists like David Climer, Larry Woody, and Joe Biddle wrote was important.  And what sports talk show hosts like George Plaster said on the air was important, too.  Not so much anymore, because the sports media landscape is so diffused. 

Those days are gone forever.  

R.I.P. Frank Wycheck

The Day After

Last night, I attended a meeting of 5th grade parents and athletic department officials at Joe's school to talk about 5th grade sports.  It turned into a productive discussion about USN's approach, generally, to sports and where sports fits in at a school that values academic and the arts the way that USN does.  I'm hoping some positive change comes out of the meeting.

The down side was that I missed JP's basketball game at MBA vs. Father Ryan.  I didn't miss much, as his former classmate from USN, J.D., went off for 20 + points in a 19 point loss for the Big Red.  JP didn't play a lot, probably because he has missed the last few practices as he and the cross country team prepared for the Nike Cross Nationals (NXN), then traveled to Portland, Oregon.  

When I got home from the meeting, I sat down with JP in my office upstairs to debrief about the game and to do a check-in on how he was doing.  He has a lot going on right now with cross country ending, basketball getting into full swing, and exams on the immediate horizon.  

What I hadn't really anticipated or considered was how big of a let down it would be for him to see the curtain fall on this cross country season.  The boys have been running together since mid-June when they began summer workouts.  JP missed the first week or two when he was on the school trip to Rome but attended consistently thereafter for the rest of the summer.  I think he feels like the season flew by from the first race at Oakland Indian Mounds State Park in Danville, Alabama to the Nike Cross Nationals last weekend in Portland, Oregon.

Running for the past 6 + months gave JP a real sense of purpose, particularly because he values so highly being part of a team.  He is such a selfless person that placing team over individual comes very naturally to him.  Due to the leadership of Coach Russ and the seniors on the cross country team, Samuel and Mitchell, and because of the makeup of the team itself, a strong, cohesive unit formed organically and allowed JP to reach his full potential as a freshman runner.  I think JP and Gabe, as freshman, felt seen, supported, and valued by their upperclassman teammates.  That meant everything to them or so I believe.  

There as an innocence about JP's running, I think, borne out of the fact that any leadership he provided to the team was additive and not a requirement.  In other words, he was able to fit in as part of the team - in important part, no doubt - but without the pressure of leading other boys in any kind of formal manner.  Certainly, he showed leadership at various times, because he's JP and that's what he does, but I think it was understated often times subtle.  Every team is different, of course, and my guess is that next season he will need to step up and lead in a more direct and deliberate manner.

My thought, though, is that it must be tough to go from playing such a vital role on a record setting cross country team that did something that had never happened at MBA in qualifying for Nationals to being a role player on a basketball team struggling to find an identity and, on top of that, preparing for exams that begin on Friday.   That, to me, is the day after.  

As I told him last night, that's part of life.  One day, you hit a home run, experience success, and the next day, you strike out with runners on base to end the game.  I think the lesson is not just to stay even keeled but, also, to really enjoy the moments of success - of sheer happiness - in the moment.  It's almost a Zen thing.

Don't get caught in the past, because the past is gone.  Don't get upset about the future, because the future is not yet here.  There is only one moment for you to be alive, and that is the present moment. 

So much of being a parent is learning from your children.  For me, anyway.  

I've learned so much from JP during this cross country season.  And I'll keep learning from him with an open mind as he puts the season in the rear view mirror, not without a tinge of sadness and nostalgia, and moves on to the next thing.  

  

Nike Cross Country Nationals (NXN)

This team.  These boys.  This season.

What a ride it's been, from Oakville Indian Mounds Park in Danville, AL, to the McCallie Invitational in Chattanooga, to the Coleman Midgett Invitational and State Championship meets at Sanders Ferry Park in Hendersonville, to the Metro Nashville Championships at Vaughn Creek in Percy Warner Park, to the Nike NXR Regionals in Cary, NC, to at long last and for the first time ever, the Nike NXN Nationals at Glendoveer Golf Course in Portland, OR.

That's a lot of racing for JP's MBA varsity cross country team.  A long season and a lot of miles covered, literally and figuratively, from practice this summer at Vaughn Creek, beginning in July, to today's final race of the season in rainy Portland, OR.  The boys put in the work, day in and day out, and it paid off with MBA's first trip to the NXR Regionals since 2010 and the first trip, ever, to the NXR Nationals.  

It's hard to put into words how proud I am of JP and his teammates for their accomplishments this season.  As I've written in this space several times, it's a unique and special group of boys.  Close knit and of the top 5, two seniors (Samuel and Mitchell), one junior (Jack), and two freshman (JP and Gabe).  Throw in two more juniors (Jack Farringer and Charlie) and you've got a solid cross country team, top to bottom, and a group of boys who have become close friends.  

Thanks to stellar coaching and mentorship from Roderick Russ and the leadership of the senior co-captains, Samuel and Mitchell, the 2023 MBA varsity cross country team is the most accomplished team in school history.  That's my take, anyway, and I think it's accurate as no MBA team has ever been to Nationals.

After a bit of debate about what time to leave this morning, Jude and I settled on 7:45 a.m., which we hoped would give us plenty of time to get to the parking area, hop on a shuttle bus, and get to Glendoveer golf course in plenty of time for the race.  It rained most of last night and it was raining as we left the hotel before sunrise this morning.  We caught a shuttle bus with no problem and just like that, we were on location at Glendoveer Golf Course a good hour and a half before the start of the race.

Optimistically and according to weather.com, I had predicted to Jude and Joe that the rain would lift before and during the race.  Ultimately, that proved to be true but when we walked in the front gate, it was chilly and drizzling.  Typical Portland weather in December or so I was told.  Fortunately, it never started raining hard after we arrived and after a few more intermittent showers, we go the break in the rain that I had foretold.  

While Jude and Joe got in line for hot chocolate from a coffee truck on site, followed by mediocre donuts from Voodoo Donuts, I walked part of the course.  There was standing water everywhere and the fairways were muddy.  Really muddy, which I knew would make for a slower and interesting race.  I'm not sure about the upperclassmen but I knew JP had never run a race in similar conditions.  

JP surprised us by texting and walking about of "the athletes village" to give us a hug and say hello.  He was all smiles and appeared confident and relaxed.  I think I was more uptight than he was, although I didn't show it.  I choked up a bit when I saw him because, I guess, I'm so damn proud of him and I know how hard he worked this year to end up in Portland, OR, for the race of a lifetime.

It was an odd feeling in the sense that while the weekend was about JP and his MBA teammates, we never really saw any of them.  They stayed at a different hotel with runners from all over the country and had their own, singular experience, which is how it should be.  As parents, we kept up with the boys through the occasional text or photo we received from one of them, after which we shared what we had learned with the group.  For that reason, seeing JP before the race was an emotional moment for me.  

I split up from Jude and Joe, as is my custom, so I could watch the race from various vantage points.  After scouting out the course some more, I returned to the starting line in time to watch the team introductions, which were quite the production.  One by one, with parents and fans cheering and crowded around the starting line, the announcer introduced each team.  When MBA's team lined up in their black Nike NXN sweatsuits, I cheered loudly.  The announcer talked about their performance at the Southeast Regionals, called them underdogs (which they were), and pointed out it was MBA's first appearance at Nationals.  With two freshman running, they also were the youngest team in the field.  

After the team was announced, they jogged across the starting line and circled back toward "the athletes village," where they would take off their sweats, so some last minute stretching, then walk to the starting line.  I took a video of the seven of them as they passed by me.  Mitchell smiled as I yelled, "Roll Red!"  JP looked over at me, grinned, and flexed as he jogged by, slightly behind the rest of the team.  I'll remember that look on his face - that confident, youthful exuberance - for the rest of my life.  

At that point, I walked back out onto the course, in search of someone who knew his or her way around so I could position myself, strategically, in the best spot to watch the race from multiple points.  I happened upon Matt McMurray, whom I believe is the head cross country coach at Marist High School in Atlanta, GA.  He had a boy from his Marist team (Tommy Latham), running unattached, who qualified for the Nationals by finishing in the top 5 at the Regionals in Cary, NC.  He had run the course with Tommy on Friday, so he had a good feel for where we needed to be to catch the runners at multiple spots on the course.  He was super nice and agreed to allow me to tag along, as a result of which I ran behind him, slogging through mud and water, during the race to three or four different locations.

JP likes to run on the inside of course which, as luck would have it, is where Matt and I were standing, so I saw him twice.  He recognized me in the bright orange rain jacket I was wearing and heard me, both times, as I yelled for him.  He looked at me, expressionless, though he nodded almost imperceptibly.  

The finish line was too crowded for me to see JP cross it, so I settled for trying to find him in the mass of boys and parents immediately after the race was over.  First, though, I looked at the scoreboard and saw that he had finished in 16:24:08.  All of the times - including the winner at 15:16:05 - were about 30 second slow by my estimation.  JP has been running just under 16:00:00, so he was right on schedule considering the mud and standing water on the course made for difficult running.  I also noticed that for the first time this season, JP was the 2nd MBA runner to cross the finish line (behind Jack).  The order of the top five was Jack, JP, Gabe, Samuel, and Mitchell.  

In the mass of tired, muddy boys, milling around, I saw Samuel first and congratulated him.  Next, I saw Gabe, then Mitchell.  Finally, I spotted JP.  Smiling, muddy, exhausted, he hugged me.  I told him how proud I was of him.  Gradually, the boys and families assembled and we took photos of the group.  A lot of photos. 

JP, flanked by Mitchell and Samuel, seniors and co-captains.  Their leadership and friendship has meant the world to JP.  He will never forget them nor will I.  

JP and Coach Roderick Russ.  

JP and Gabe, both freshman.  I can't wait to see how they push each other over the next few years.

At one point, I asked the NXR winners - Miami Havana - to pose with our boys for a photo, which they graciously agreed to do.  It turned out that both teams had hung out together a good bit at the hotel, so it was nice to get a photo of all of them together.

MBA and Belen Jesuit Preparatory School after the race.

After a while, Jude, Joe, and I hopped on a shuttle bus for the ride back to the parking lot.  We drove home, uneventfully.  While Joe did some homework and Jude read, I went for a run on the paved trail that snakes along beside the Willamette River in downtown Portland.  Really, it was my first chance to get a run in and I didn't want the weekend to go by without lacing up my running shoes and getting outside.  

More importantly, I was inspired by JP and his MBA teammates.  I ran six miles - my longest run in a while - largely in the rain.  It was one of those runs I will remember as a "top 10 run."  

I ran to celebrate JP's accomplishments this season.  I ran for the simple joy of running.  I ran as a way to thank the Lord for the many blessings he has given me.  Family, boys, a healthy body.  I ran for life.  

I ran because it is what I have done for so very long and what I continue to do.  

I ran in the rain and I enjoyed every single step.

A Weekend in Portland, Oregon

So, as it turns out, Portland, OR, is my kind of city.  Great coffee.  Great food.  Interesting people.  Cold weather.  All of that and then some.

JP flew out of Nashville on Thursday morning, early, with his MBA varsity cross country teammates.  They connected in Seattle, WA, and had an uneventful and not time trip to Portland, OR.  Jude, Joe, and I connected in Denver, CO, where we suffered through a three hour delay before getting back in the air.  As a result, we didn't arrive in Portland, OR, until almost 8 p.m. PST.  

Things quickly smoothed out, though, as we had a great meal late Thursday night at Grassa, an Italian restaurant downtown.  Pasta made in house and red wine in small mason jars.  Just what the doctor ordered after a long day of traveling across the country.  Tarah, Jude, Joe, and I were the last ones in the restaurant before the manager politely ushered us out and back to our two bedroom cottage at the Kimpton Riverside Hotel.  

Today was a day to remember.  Coffee for me, early, at Cafe Umbria, where I drank a great coffee and read a long obituary written for Sandra Day O'Connor, who died yesterday.  

Later, we toured the Nike headquarters which was, quite simply, amazing.  What a campus, nestled on 250 + acres in Beaverton, OR.  Paul, our tour guide and a native Englishman, is a longtime Nike employee on the retail side who came to us through an MBA connection.  We learned so much about Nike as a company and got an inside look at the sprawling campus and the many buildings where approximately 10,000 employees work on site three day a week (home the other two days).  Afterwards, we stocked up on a ton of Nike gear at the Nike employee store.  

From there, Jude, Joe, and I went to Powell's Bookstore, a bucket list stop for me.  I've always wanted to go to Powell's in downtowns Portland, OR, as it's a book lover's dream.  There was so much to see and I saw it all, wondering from room to room and floor to floor, taking it all in on my first visit.  I restrained myself and left with five or six books.  

After stopping by Patagonia to get Joe a rain jacket, we drove to the hotel.  I parked our rental SUV and had a glass of wine at McCormick & Schmick's, a couple of blocks away.  Later, we had an excellent dinner there, too.  The calamari was to die for and all our entrees were fantastic.  

Tomorrow is the big day for the boys.  The Nike NXN race, which will take place in the rain on the track at a nearby golf course.  The big one - the Nationals.  It's been a great weekend for the team, who have stayed together in a hotel downtown, eaten their meals tougher, and attended various Nike sponsored events.  They had a practice run not the course this morning, in the rain.  

MBA is seeded 22 out of 22 teams running tomorrow.  The biggest of underdogs to be sure but I am thinking they will surprise some teams.  I would be beyond happy if the boys finished 15 or higher.  Realistically, that's a tall order.  Still, I'm anxious to see how they measure up against the competition from all over the country.  

MBA is hosting a watch party at school in the Burkholder Wellness Center Film Room, which is cool.  The school recognizes this is a big deal, which it is.  No cross country team from MBA has ever qualified for Nationals in the past.  So, this is huge for the school and the cross country program.

I think JP is ready.  He called Austin Weaver, a friend who won three cross country state championships at FRA and ran in college at Notre Dame.  Austin gave him great advice on running a big race like this in muddy conditions and, likely, in the rain.  It's great for JP to have a resource and a role model like Austin.

Whatever the outcome, JP and his teammates will remember this season, and this weekend, for the rest of their lives.  The bond they share will last a lifetime.  That makes me the happiest of all.

Thanksgiving on the Mountain, Vol. 4

For what Joe pronounced was the fourth year in a row, our family celebrated Thanksgiving on Monteagle Mountain, in a house on Tennessee Avenue, in the center of Sewanee's campus.  I've gotten to know Ted, the owner of the house, well enough that he texted me this fall to ask if we wanted the house, again, for Thanksgiving this year.  Someone else wanted to rent it but he gave us first dibs, which was incredibly thoughtful.  

It's been a bit of a hectic fall, although November at work was relatively light for me after a 5-day trial I had scheduled went away when the underlying case settled.  I'll pay for it in December, though, as I am about to get slammed based on what I have on my calendar.  The point being is that it was nice to get away to the Mountain for a few days and spend time together, as a family, with nothing scheduled.  No work meetings, no practices, no games.  Just family time. 

As I've written many times before in this space, for me there is something rejuvenating about spending time on the Mountain.  Monteagle or Sewanee.  Life slows down, so much so, in fact, that I often lose track of what day it is.  That's a nice feeling because in my normal life, everything is scheduled down to the minute or so it seems.  Drop off at school, meetings, court, mediations, pick-ups from practice, games, etc.  Run, run, run.  Not just for me but for all of us.  

Jude and the boys drove up Tuesday evening, after work.  I worked late and hadn't packed, so I stayed in Nashville.  I had to finish up a couple of projects Wednesday morning, so I didn't actually get away until early afternoon on Wednesday.  I could feel myself relaxing on the drive up, though, especially so as I got off I-24 at the Monteagle exit.  Home.  

Jude's parents joined us for Thanksgiving lunch on Thursday.  While Jude and her mom heated up the food, including a turkey courtesy of Martin's BBQ, ham, and various sides, Jim, the boys, and I watched football on the television in the living room.  Unlike in past years, the miracle of streaming allowed us to watch all of the pro and college football we wanted.  

After a bountiful meal and desserts from Meridee's Bakery in Franklin, we hung out with Jane and Jim.  To avoid driving after dark, they left mid-afternoon to drive back to Nashville.  That night, we watch more football and ate leftover, both Thanksgiving traditions.  

Friday was a classic day on the Mountain, on campus, for us.  JP got up early and went for a six or seven mile run.  Joe and I ran three miles together, a mile or so of which was on a logging trail I had never run on before.  We finished with a couple of laps around the Sewanee soccer field across the street from our house.  Later, we all went to the Fowler Center.  I played basketball with JP while Jude played tennis, indoors, with Joe.  Then, we switched, and I played basketball with Joe while Jude played tennis with JP.  Still later, JP, Joe, and I got in some work on the Sewanee baseball field while Jude hiked the Fiery Gizzard.

We also watched Talladega Nights:  The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, which the boys loved.  Because things so often come full circle, I remember when Jude and I saw that move at the Green Hills movie theater in 2006 with a bunch of the frisbee crew on opening night.  The theater was so crowded that Jude and I had to sit on the front row.  That was before JP was born.  It's hard to recall the details of those days with any clarity.  That was our life before children.  It was ephemeral.  

Joe and I watched a couple of episodes of Andor on the Disney Channel.  Joe loves all things Marvel and Star Wars, unlike JP.  I like that Joe has his thing, separate from JP, and that he and I share it.  It was fun, snuggled up on the king size bed downstairs with Joe, watching Andor on my iPad.

Sunday morning, Jude and JP headed back to Nashville early.  Joe and I walked to church at All Saints Chapel.  We were greeted by Rev. Peter Gray outside the church when we walked up, which made me feel like it was going to be a good service.  And it was.  The Episcopal Church is so special to me.  It's where I was baptized - years ago - at St. Paul's in Franklin by Rev. Bob Cowperthwaite.  The homily that Rev. Gray gave, about kindness, resonated with me.  Joe and I talked about it on the walk home.  All Saints Chapel is such a beautiful church and the intimacy of the service - maybe 10 or 15 people there - made our time there even more memorable on Sunday morning.  

There is so much I love about Sewanee and, really, all of it was encapsulated in our annual Thanksgiving holiday visit.  

 

The Best Weekend Ever

Is it possible to identify the best weekend of your life?  

The memory dims over time.  Then, of course, there's recency bias.  I'd like to think I've had a lot of great weekends in my life.  But I'm not sure I can think of one that tops last weekend.

Jude and JP traveled with the MBA varsity cross country team to Cary, NC, for the NXR Regional Championship.  I stayed with Joe, whose Armada soccer team had a tournament in Murfreesboro.  

It was great to have some one-on-one time with Joe.  It always is, actually.  He's special.  So funny, so happy and still, so innocent.  As I've written before, there's a sweet spot for boys, I think, that runs from ages 10 - 12.  Still impressionable and not yet cynical, mostly because if you're lucky, the harsher realities of life had yet be set in stone.  There is a lack of emotional complexity, I think, at that age.  Things are good or they're bad, happy or sad, etc.  Most everything is black and white, not grey.  

Friday night, Joe and I went to the USN high school production of The Wizard of Oz, mostly because our next door neighbor, Erin Joyce, was starring as Dorothy.  We also wanted to see Olivia Westfall, JP's former classmate, whom we had heard stole the show last year in Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.  

After an early dinner at Central BBQ - nothing to write home about - Joe and I checked in and queued up early, so we would be first into the auditorium and in line for good seats.  Our plan worked to perfection, as we ended up on the front row, next to Erin's mother, Maureen, and her guests.  Joe's classmate, Bruce, sat next to Joe.  

To say we were dazzled by the performance is an understatement.  Erin was magnificent.  I wasn't surprised, not really, because for several years I have said that Erin will be president one day.  Since we have known her, she has been precocious, thoughtful, intelligent, responsible, well rounded, and accomplished.  

Still, to see Erin up on stage, performing, was breathtaking.  I mean, Erin was Dorothy.  She inhabited the character so wholly, so completely, that at times, Joe and I forgot that she was our next door neighbor and that we'd known her since she was 10 years old.  Her facial expressions alone as other characters spoke or sang demonstrated an intensity in her performance that was marvelous to observe.  Her singing, too, was exquisite.  I couldn't stop smiling as I watched Erin perform.  Amazing.

Joe and I saw Olivia Westfall, whom I have known since she was in kindergarten with JP, before the show. She said hello a little shyly, then posed for a photo with Joe, after which I talked to Olivia's mom, Annie.  Annie and I grew up and went to high school together. 

Having spent a brief moment with Olivia before the show is part of what made seeing her on stage, performing, as the wicked witch of the west, so startling.  The transformation from the Olivia I have known for so many years to the cackling, green skinned, frightening witch was something I will never forget.  Joe and his friend, Bruce, were astonished and a little frightened when she appeared on stage for the first time in a puff of smoke.  I did not see a trace of the girl I knew.  She looked and sounded completely different, which was part of what was co captivating about Olivia's performance.  Quite literally, she was a different person on stage.  

It was and night to remember.  Joe enjoyed himself immensely, which was awesome, because initially he has some doubts about spending 2 + hours at a play.  He loved it, though, and I did, too.   

For the soccer tournament, Joe's Armada team was divided into two squads, Red and Blue.  Joe played goalie for the Red team.  For perhaps the first time, he appeared completely comfortable in his role.  In both games on Saturday - two wins for Armada - he played decisively, confidently, and aggressively.  He made good decision with the ball and, really, just owned the position.  He was a leader from the position, which is what I think you want your goalie to be.  Joe was vocal - certainly, not anything new to him - and he communicated precisely where he wanted his defensemen to be on every play.  

It was by far the best I've seen Joe play as a goalie.  As I texted to Jude and JP, in NC, Joe played like a boss.  Coach Thomas called Joe the MVP of the day after the second game and I think he was right.  Joe was proud of his performance, as he should have been.  At one point, he stopped a penalty kick, guessing correctly that the right footed kicker would kick the ball to Joe's right.  His stop fired up the team and the parents.  Maybe for the first time, I could see Joe playing more soccer, at goalie, down the line.  Who knows?

The team played well, offensively and defensively.  Coach Mario's influence appears to be taking hold, as the boys passed the ball well to each other and played a game that looked like, well, real soccer, even to a novice like me.  The beautiful game?  Maybe.  Certainly, it was more beautiful than so many of their other games.  The boys were aggressive and physical and really shared the ball well. 

On Sunday morning, Armada Red lost, 1 - 3, to a good team that had one outstanding player.  Joe allowed a soft goal in the second half, which disappointed him, but it was a good outing.  He wasn't quite as sharp as the night before but it was a good, close, and competitive game.  Joe shed a few tears after the loss which I was okay with because he desperately wanted to lead his team into the championship game for the first time and it didn't happen.  

Joe and I drove back from Murfreesboro straight to Dose on Murphy Road, so I could have my morning coffee and he could have hot chocolate.  As we settled in, Jude began texting us updates from the cross county course in Cary, NC, as the teams were warming up then gathering at the starting line.  I tried, unsuccessfully, to find a live feed on the internet.  As we sat in Dose, Jude texted me that the race had started and MBA was in 7th or 8th place, with Farragut in 3rd place.  Then, crickets.  It was like they were crossing the dark side of the moon and had lost all radio contact.  

Joe and I nervously sat at our table waiting on an update from Jude.  Finally, I texted her.  She wasn't sure where MBA was in the race but she had heard from one of the others that one or more of McCallie's runners had struggled and maybe left the race.  That turned out not to be true, although one of McCallie's runners did collapse running up the hill on the home stretch to finish the race.  That actually happened.

Shortly after the race finished, Jude called me.  She excitedly told me that she and the other mothers had run into Coach Russ, who was beaming.  Unofficially, MBA had finished in 2nd place, beating Farragut and McCallie (both state champions).  I was momentarily stunned.  Awestruck, really.  However, based on past experience, I didn't want to celebrate until I someone gave me the official results.  It's very easy, especially at a race like the Nike NXR Regionals with 264 runners, to get incorrect information on who finished where, how many points a team has, etc.  

I texted my friend, Austin, who ran cross country on scholarship at Notre Dame and is well connected with the local, regional, and national track communities.  He already was on-line, on the Nike NXR Regionals website.  He called me and affirmed that MBA had finished in 2nd place and by a considerable margin over Vestavia Hills.  Austin's news clinched it for me and I grinned at Joe in disbelief.  

"They did it!" I said.  "They qualified for Nationals in Portland, OR!"  

I'm not sure who was happier, Joe or me.  I hugged him tightly and we laughed.  Nationals!

In part because we had so much to be thankful for, I made the decision on the spot that Joe and I would try to make it to church at St. Patrick, even though it meant we would arrive a little late.  We rushed home from Dose, changes clothes, hopped in my truck, and beat feet to St. Patrick, 10 minutes or so away from the house.  

As I sat in church on a glorious Sunday morning, at the end of a perfect weekend, I kept thinking about how much I have to be thankful for.  I'm so blessed to have the family I have and for my boys to have the success they are having, at school and in sports.  On top of that, they're such great boys.  After communion, my cell phone buzzed and I looked down and saw that it was JP calling.

I nudged Joe and told him I would be right back.  Hustling to the back of the church and outside, I answered the call.  JP, as excited as he gets, told me he was in the tent after the race signing up for Nationals.  He needed to confirm my e-mail address to make me the contact person on his paperwork.  Just talking to him, I could tell how proud and happy he was, not just of his performance (15:53), but of the MBA team's, as well (four runners under 16:00).  

I'm going to write more, later, about this team and their amazing performance at the Nike NXR Regionals.  A lot more, probably.  

But in that moment, on that glorious Sunday, at the end of the best weekend ever, I was so happy.  JP and his MBA cross country team is going to Nationals!  Truly, a once in a lifetime experience.  Incredible!

Joe and I stopped for lunch at Dicey's, a newish pizza joint near St. Patrick.  Every few minutes, Joe and I grinned, laughed, and said "Nationals!"

The best weekend ever?  Maybe it was for an old dad like me.

 

NXR Southeast Regional Championship

Last night, on my way to teach my late class at Nashville School of Law, JP texted me and asked if I could take him to school early this morning, leaving at 6:40 a.m., so he could run with his cross country teammates before they left this afternoon for North Carolina.

For the first time since 2010, MBA's varsity cross country team is running in the NXR Southeast Regional Championship Meet in Cary, North Caroline.  The boys will fly into Raleigh, NC, this evening, check into the hotel and have dinner.  Tomorrow, they plan to get a run in on the course to familiarize themself with the terrain and layout before Sunday's race.

Earlier this week, Coach Russ learned that the boys are seeded and running in the championship round on Sunday.  That in an of itself is an accomplishment to be proud of, as only the teams with best aggregate times run in the championship round.  As I've said, this is an unusually deep cross country team, with the top five runners all capable of running 3.1 miles in under 16:00.  I would love - and I mean love - for each of the five boys to run his best race of the season on Sunday.  

Initially, I had a five day trial set to conclude this week, so Jude and I decided she would accompany JP to North Carolina and I would stay in town with Joe.  I'm a little jealous, I must admit, to miss the race since my case settled.  It will be a good getaway for Jude and JP, though, and I'll enjoy my time with Joe this weekend.  Joe's Armada team plays in its last tournament of the fall Saturday and Sunday, in Murfreesboro, so between soccer and basketball, he and I will be busy.  

Tonight, Joe and I are going to USN to see our next door neighbor, Erin, star in the high school's production of the Wizard of Oz.  This morning before school, when Joe began grousing about watching play tonight, I reminded him that perhaps the most important thing to me is raise well rounded boys.  I want them to know that the most important thing in life is not who won the Ravens - Bengals game last last night (that would be the Ravens, by the way, who are having a helluva year).  

I told him I wanted him to grow up and read The New Yorker, like I do, and to have an interest in a wide variety of subjects.  I also told him that yesterday, I listened to a fascinating podcast - Plain English with Derek Thompson - about Chat GPT and AI - so fascinating that I'm going to listen to it a second time.  This morning, I listened to a podcast - The Daily (New York Times) about U.S./China interactional relations.  I shared this not to pat myself on the bag but to impress upon him the importance of being a lifelong learner with an insatiable curiosity about the world.  

Yes, I'm glad my boys love sports, like I do.  It's a currency we trade in, for sure.  I love  that I can and do send JP articles from the Athletic or ESPN.com and that, afterwards, it starts a conversation between us.  Just this morning, we talked about an article I sent him on the cross country dynasty at Northern Arizona University.  It reminds me of the way my mom and I would read the same article in Sports Illustrated then talk about it on the telephone, long after I was grown and living on my own.  It was our currency, too.

But what I really want is for my boys to have opinions - informed, educated opinions - about politics, culture, and world events.  I want them to know that the world is so much larger and richer than which teams are in line to get three wild card playoff spots in the NFC this season.  I can't wait for the time when I can send JP and later, Joe, article or columns from the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, the Atlantic, or Substack.  That's coming and soon, too.  

What a gift it is, indeed, to have the opportunity to expose my boys to the world and all it has to offer.  

As for North Carolina and the Regional Championship, go get it, JP.  It's a great day to run!

Back in the day.

Stomp!

Last week, BGA's 6th grade soccer team beat USN (5 - 1) on the soccer field at the River Campus and after the game, for good measure, BGA's players stomped on the USN log at midfield.  Classy and not altogether unexpected for BGA students (and parents) based on past experience.

What BGA didn't know, however, was that USN's 5th graders - including Joe and his partners in crime, Bennett, Sam, the Amazing Arnov, Rory, Sawyer and a few others - played only 10 minutes in the game.  Joe's class of 5th graders is athletic and has several boys who play on high level travel soccer teams.  Taken as a group, they're the USN 6th grade soccer team's secret weapon, if you will.

Last night, at FRA, Coach Davidson played most of the 5th graders the entire game in the tournament semi-final game, a rematch abasing the logo-stomping Wildcats from BGA.  Different USN players, different outcome.  USN shutout BGA 2 - 0 and in an interesting turn of events, to say the least, I heard the BGA parents complaining on a few occasions about how physical USN was playing.  That might be a first in my boys' decade long history at USN - opposing parents parents complaining that USN students were playing too rough.  I love it!

I hadn't seen Joe and his teammates play in a real game against good competition, on the big field (11 v. 11), until last night.  It was fun to watch even for a soccer novice like me.  Some of Joe's classmates - Rory and Sam in particular - are very good soccer players.  Skilled, physical, strong legs.  Arnov is, well, "amazing," with his ferocious quickness and speed.  Joe and Sawyer, more athletes than soccer players, anchored the defense.  Bennett, tall and agile, is a strong midfielder and physical, as well. 

In other words, this isn't your father's 5th and 6th grade USN soccer team.  With the infusion of the 5th graders, it's filled with athletes, soccer players, and boys that enjoy physical play.  I love that, too.

  

For the first time all season, Joe scored a goal.  Sam hit long ball over the defense and as Joe ran it down, he deflected it with his right foot, enough so that he changed the direction of the ball and tipped it over the goalie's shoulder and into the goal.  From a distance, it was hard to see if Joe got a piece of the ball and there was a question as to whether he was offsides.  The goal stood, though, and after the game, Joe assured me that he deflected it.  I was happy for Joe because as a defenseman, he doesn't get many chances to score.  

After the game, on our way to eat dinner at Pancho and Lefty's in Melrose, Joe told me how much fun it is to play soccer for USN, with his friends.  Apparently, the boys break down the games at school the next day and it's a gas to talk about the game they just played in together, rather than various club or travel soccer games they played in at various locations over the weekend.  Great fun!

While I'm own the subject of Joe, his advisory teacher, John Kleiner, sent him a wonderful e-mail last week, thanking him for being an influencer in their advisory group and among his classmates.  Prepared, focused, kind, and friendly were words John used to describe Joe.  Jude and I were proud, to say the least. Joe is blazing his own trail, I think, which is what we want him to do.  

Tonight, a Belmont U. home basketball game.  Tomorrow, JP has his first basketball scrimmage game, Joe's USN soccer team plays in the HVAC finals against FRA, and Joe has HBC baseball practice.  

Let's Go!

 

Driving Mr. Daisy

I taught my class at Nashville School of Law last night and because we have the late slot, I didn't get home until after 10 p.m.  The boys already were in bed, although JP had texted me earlier to ask if we could leave for MBA this morning at 6:25 a.m.  He wanted to leave from campus for his morning run before school because, well, he's JP, and that's what he does.  Grind.  

As we left the house and walked down the sidewalk to my truck, I asked him if he wanted to drive.  "Sure," he replied.  JP has had his learner's permit for several months but he normally drives Jude's 17-year old Honda Pilot, which is going to become his car when he turns 16 in March 2024.  He's only driven my truck a handful of times.  My guess is that since we were leaving earlier than normal and there wouldn't be as much traffic, he thought it would be an idea time to get some seat time in the big rig.  

It's an odd and unsettling experience, for me, to ride in my truck with JP driving.  Most of that is because by nature, I'm a driver and not a passenger.  I hate to ride with anyone.  It's a control thing, I know.  I've always felt may inclination to drive, rather than ride, is based on my late birthday (July) which meant all of my friends were driving before I did.  By the time I got my driver's license the summer after my sophomore year of high school, I was sick of riding with others and have no control over where I went or when I could leave.  I vowed to always drive once I got my license and I've held to that for the most part over the past 41 years.  

JP's a pretty good driver, fortunately.  Still learning, of course.  He's a little too cautious but I like the fact that he's not overconfident.  He'll learn like we all do as he gains driving experience.  As a parent, of course, I just want him to be safe on the roads.  I think Jude and I will ease him into driving on his own by starting late this spring or early this summer, after school is out.  Short trips in the neighborhood and not a lot of night driving.  That's my preliminary plan, anyway.  

Sometimes, like this morning, I find myself wondering where the stroller days went and how we got here from there so quickly.  It's trite to say, or write, but it really does feel like only yesterday that I was rolling JP through the neighborhood in the Baby Jogger City Elite stroller.  Those were some of the best days of my life to be sure, wheeling into Bongo Java or the 12South Tap Room on a Saturday afternoon as JP slept  comfortably in the stroller.  

I felt such a sense of rightness, as if for once in my life, I was exactly who and where I was supposed to be at that point in time.  Nothing made me feel more like a father than wheeling JP through the neighborhood on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon, smiling and nodding as I passed other pedestrians.  Those were different days in the neighborhood, of course.  There were very few children to be seen and even fewer strollers.  12South was not 12South.  It was a real neighborhood then with a real neighborhood feel to it, unlike now with overpriced boutique ladies' stores on every block and the sidewalk full of tourists or bachelorettes and their companions.  

JP and I went everywhere in the City Elite.  Everywhere.  It makes me more than a little nostalgic these days when I go into the basement and see it sitting, forlornly, around the corner.  It's a reminder of one of the best times of my life, one since gone.  I can't bring myself to give away the City Elite, although I've thought about it.  I've looked on line and Baby Jogger doesn't make the model anymore, which is a shame.  

Time.  It stretches and elongates, and it disappears.  So fleeting.  So precious.  

The days are long and the years are short.  Never more true than this morning. 

These are the Days

There are times when I feel an urge to pinch myself as I marvel at my great good fortune to have the boys I have.  This is one of those times.

Jude and I are blessed, quite literally beyond measure, that God gave us JP and Joe.  Our lives have been enriched in countless ways, big and small, by our boys.  JP and Joe, combined, are our North Star.  The center of our universe.  With a tip of the cap to Mary Lou Lord, our compass is always set on our boys.

Yesterday morning as he was sitting down for breakfast, Joe looked at me and asked, earnestly, if I had any plans after work.  

"What do you have in mind?"  I responded.  

"I was wondering if we could go to the gym and get some shots up or maybe go to D-bats for a baseball workout?"  

"Absolutely," I said.  

Joe smiled, contentedly, happy with my response, and turned his attention to his breakfast.  I walked back into the bedroom to get dressed for work, also content, now that I had something to look forward to throughout my work day.  

Later, I left the office early amidst a light day and picked Joe up at school.  I had reserved one of the larger batting cages at D-bats.  Joe and I worked on hitting for an hour.  We made some adjustments to his swing.  He worked hard and it was a struggle at times but the put the work in, just like his brother did at the same age.  When Joe got frustrated after a couple of bad swings, I stopped, and quietly talked to him about the important of failing, and learning, while we're trying different things in the cage.  I told him the work is the reward.  He nodded and we got back to work.  

After Joe and I got home from D-bats last night, I walked upstairs to check on JP and see how his day at school had gone.  He was at his desk, grinding, doing homework.  He looked up and told me he had just gotten the e-mail confirming he made the freshman basketball team.  I was happy for him because he missed tryouts due to cross country practice in the week leading up to the state championship meet and had practiced a couple of day with the team at Coach Dodson's suggestion.  I'm not sure that basketball is I JP's long-term future but for this year, anyway, I thought it would be a good idea for him to take break from running an play a different sport.

Speaking of running, the MBA cross country team is traveling to Cary, NC, next weekend to run in the regional meet for the first time since 2010.  Leaving Friday midday and returning Sunday.  It's a big deal for the boys and the school for them to run in the regional meet.  

Because JP is JP, he has gotten up at 5:30 a.m. the last couple of mornings, before school, and gone for a run.  Five miles yesterday and six miles this morning.  All on his own with no prompting from me.  Why? Because he doesn't want to miss out on any training in advance of the regional meet and he has basketball practice in the afternoon, after school.  

Before I left to take JP to school this morning, I followed her into her closet in our bedroom.  Smiling and shaking my head bemusedly, I asked her if she ever thought about how rare it was to have a boy - a teenager - who works as JP does and is as driven to succeed, in everything, as JP is.  We shook our heads, laughing, and acknowledge our great good fortune.

I love that phrase.  Great good fortune.  

Two boys that want to work.  In school and in sports.  Two boys that are kindhearted, gentle souls who enrich our lives in every imaginable way.  

 

State!

On a beautiful early November day at Sanders Ferry Park, MBA's varsity cross country lost the state championship to Chattanooga McCallie by 8 points.  Beating McCallie - the four team state champs - was always going to be a tall order.  Yesterday, it just wasn't to be for MBA or any of the other challengers from across the state.  

MBA's runner up finish was impressive with three runners in the top 12.  Jack Wallace (7), Samuel Trumble (10), and JP (12).  An eighth point deficit is not a lot, obviously, but McCallie is a strong cross country squad and there's no shame in finishing second to them in a meet that could have turned out differently with a break here or there.  

I missed the earlier race at Sanders Ferry, so it was my first trip there.  It's a beautiful park nestled along the banks of Drakes Creek in Hendersonville.  The cross country course undulates thought the park, so it's not an easy course by and stretch.  Two laps, too, which means the runners see each hill not once but twice.  

I arrived early, about 8:30 a.m., and walked part of the course.  It was chilly but not cold and I was comfortable in my joggers, pullover, and running gloves.  Most of the school has arrived and were assembling their tents and setting up camp near the starting line.  I got JP and Joe some swat - screen printed hoodies and t-shirts - and got ready to watch the varsity girls' race.

There's always a palpable feeling of nervousness - anticipation, really - before a cross country race.  You can feel it and see it on the faces of the athletes, parents, and coaches.  It was more noticeable before yesterday's race or so it seemed to me.  There was more at stake and for many athletes, it was the final race of their high school careers.  

I bumped into Jude, Joe, and he parents on the inside portion of the course after the varsity girl's race, which saw two Father Ryan young ladies finish 1 - 2.  Impressive.  Jude and her parents were comfortably ensconced in camping chairs and Joe was bouncing around the course, excited to be missing a day of school and to watch JP race.

After speaking to them for a moment, I walked up the hill and over to a pavilion with a view of the river on the back side of the course.  I wanted to be alone with my thoughts, as is my wont before JP's races.  I sat on a picnic table, closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and mediated for a few moments.  Then, after a silent prayer, I walked down to a spot I had identified at almost the one mile mark.  

A few minutes alter, I heard the starter's pistol fire in the distance, and I started the stopwatch on my Garmin.  As the leaders rounded the corner, I saw Sam Trumble running with them in a group of seven or eight.  I saw Jack Wallace, too, tall and lanky, easily distinguishable among the other runners.  Somehow, I never saw JP, Mitchell, or Gabe in the pack of runners that ran by next, still bunched up after the start.  

I hustled across to the back side hill and I was able too see JP, Mitchell, Gabe running comfortably together in what was becoming a smaller group of runner behind the leaders.  JP looked comfortable but intense.  Focused.  He looked the same when I saw him come up the hill near the finish of the first lap of the course.  No recognition as he ran by me and I yelled for him.  He stared straight ahead, running strong along with his teammates.  

One of memories I will take from this season is that of JP, Mitchell, and Gabe running side-by-side, as they did in the last three races.  There's strength in numbers in cross country races and to watch them run together, stride for stride, one senior and two freshman, was special.  I hope they remember it, too.

On the final pass across the hill before the home stretch, JP had pulled away from Mitchell and Gabe by few yards.  I ran down to the finish line and watched the leaders finish.  I leaned out to video JP's finish while I tried to avoid the runners as they rounded the final curve on the inside of the course, sprinting to the finish line 15 yards to my left.  

I saw JP running toward me, alone, with a McCallie runner trailing behind him but not gaining on him.  I yelled for JP, he flashed by, and just like that, the race was over.  

JP finished 12th in the state.  15:57.  

I walked over the finishing chute, greeted JP and the other MBA runners I bumped into, then walked away, alone in my thoughts for a few minutes.  I was proud of JP and proud of all of his teammates, too.  What a season!

After the award ceremony, I found Samuel Trumble and Mitchell Chaffin, the senior co-captains and team leaders, and shared a brief moment with them.  As my voice choked with emotion, I thanked them for their leadership, mentorship, and for showing JP the way.  They made him feel welcome this season and gave him the freedom, I think, to develop as a runner and competitor.  He looks up to both of them so much.  It's meant the world to him, I know, for Samuel and Mitchell to treat him as a peer, as a friend.  

I think Samuel and Mitchell established a bond with JP that will last long after they graduate this May.  I think - I hope - they feel good about entrusting to JP and Gabe their legacy of hard work and leadership to her passed on to other, younger MBA runners in the years to come.  In many ways, I think that's a large part of what being an MBA student and athlete is all about.  

Leadership.  Legacy.  Tradition.

I'm proud of JP and I'm proud of his teammates.