Track Season
So, maybe some “Our America” readers wonder: what happened? They’re used to several essays (good or bad) a week. But in the past couple of weeks, the writing slowed down. So here’s the good news: nothing is wrong. It’s just May, and May for me is the heart of track season. As a track official I’m “working” four or five meets a week. For a retired guy, that’s a lot like a full-time job, even though it’s fun. So there’s been less of the “dawn breaks” time to sit down and write, and fewer of the ongoing discussions that keep me deep in Our American political world.
Don’t worry, track does come to an end (though Jenn’s not so sure sometimes!!). And they’ll be plenty of time to get back to what I’ve chosen to do: comment on Our America, and Our World.
But while I’m talking about track and field, let me draw a couple of parallels. Track is unlike a lot of other sports, where every game is “equal” to most other games. In football for example, if you lose the first three games of the season, your opportunity to make the “playoffs” is low. So as a football coach you have to take the first game as seriously as the last. There’s always room for improvement, but you better be ready to go when the first whistle blows on the field in August.
First Attempt
Track is a little bit different. We run meets all season, from the snow-blustery first meets of March to the sunbaked (or rain soaked, or both) days of May and June. But, in the end, only those meets in the championship season “count”. As a team or individual, you could lose all of March and April, then miraculously pull it together in May and June and still make it to the State Championship meet.
Of course, it usually doesn’t happen that way. Usually the whole “regular” season builds, using each competition as data to prepare for the next, culminating in the “peak” at the most important meets of the year. And, back in the day when I was coaching (now nine years ago), I took each meet seriously all year, working hard to win each time. It not only prepared us physically for the year end championships, but it got us into the mind-set of winning. That was important. As athletes, often times the key difference isn’t talent or physical preparedness. It’s all “mental”.
Second Attempt
So this week it’s the beginning of the “elimination series” in high school track – district week. And my focus this week is the nine different pole vault competitions that I’m officiating (five down, four to go) . The stakes for the vaulters are simple: finish in the top four and move onto the Regional meet competition. Fail to make that standard, and track season is over.
In each competition there comes the moment, the exact height (measured to the lesser quarter-inch) that determines who goes on, and who’s done. A whole season of vaulting, hundreds of hours, thousands of dollars of poles, injuries overcome or still nagging: it all comes down to three attempts in a five minute period at that one height. Find a way over the bar, and it’s onto the Regional. Fail, and done. There’s no one else to blame, no missed pass or failed block. It’s just you, a runway, a pole and the bar. The coaches are there to help – but in the end, it’s still just you.
Final Attempt
As a coach, those three attempts (three fails and your out) go so fast. There seems almost no chance to make the corrections, to the “right pole” or the right settings; to get the kid over. And to the athlete, physical tightening is the enemy. First there’s one miss, then the second. Third attempts are all mental. If you can only “just” do what you’ve always done: no pressure. But pressure tightens the legs, changes the step, shortens the muscles, and that alters the entire “geometry” of pole vault. It’s the biggest lesson the rest of the season can teach; relax under “third attempt” pressure.
For some, there’s the joy of clearance. But for many, it’s the bittersweet end of the season. On the one hand, it’s onto summer. On the other, it’s back to work, to get even better for next year, to “feed the addiction” of clearing that one-inch diameter, fourteen feet, ten-inch long bar set far above the padding. As the official, I can see it in their eyes, the set of their shoulders, their first words off the mat with the bar lying by their side. You know what their determination will be, maybe before they even do.
Take A Breath
This isn’t a political essay today – but we can all learn from the lessons of track and field. Politics in America is a lot like a track season. There’s lots of regular season events; tests along the way to learn and develop tactics, strategies, and issues. But in the end, there’s only one final test, one moment when everything comes to a head. It’s Election Day.
I will not claim that American politics are an “equal” fight right now. Those in power today are doing everything they can to “set the table” for a win in November. We can argue whether that’s ethical or legal or not. But there’s an old axiom in American politics: “All’s fair in love and in war, and in politics”. We are now finding out how extreme that axiom can be.
November 2026 is not the “State Championship” of elections. It’s more like the Regional meet, the intermediate step leading to the final showdown. But, at least for Democrats, it’s a lot like that third attempt at the bar. We know we “can” clear the height. But can we “just” put ourselves together enough to do it. Because we need to qualify, to get to the next step, to regain some power to make the last competition in 2028 winnable and fair. We need to win in November, no matter the daily stresses of the ongoing political disaster that is the United States today.
So take a breath, focus on your technique, and make the bar this November.
Then we can get ready for the rest.
