Saturday Morning
Our dogs don’t know what day it is. Pretty much every day is the same to them, and regardless of my murmuring “…It’s Saturday, we can sleep in”, they’re intent is to get me up. It’s a little after six in the morning, and that’s when they eat – every morning. And while I used to be able to talk the oldest, Buddy, into going back to sleep for a while, with five in the house right now there’s always one who’s hungry enough to make sure everyone else gets moving.
There’s not a lot of barking involved. It’s strategic: Buddy scratches my shoulder, Atticus goes in for a kiss (usually on the lips), Lou lays on my legs, and Keelie – well she’s just trying to snuggle me right out of the bed. The foster pit bull pup, CeCe, is still crated. She would be on my side, willing to sleep in, but with all the action, she’s up waiting when we get to the door.
So it’s on my feet, regardless of the day or what time I went to bed.
There are all sorts of rituals: the “communion” of cheese to make sure everyone gets their meds, then impatient waiting as I sort three types of food into five dishes. It takes a bit of time, and there’s always some wrestling in the kitchen while I get it done. And then, finally, when all the bowls are emptied – the dessert course – carrots all around.
The Games
It’s Saturday morning – the last day of competition in the Tokyo Olympic Games. The women’s 10,000 meters is a long, long race on the track, interspersed with men’s javelin and women’s high jump. But the dogs did me a favor. I will get to see my favorite track races, the 4×400 relays, live.
I’ve watched Olympics since I was twelve, in that incredibly confusing year of 1968. That’s fifty-three years, and of course the coverage has improved. But the National Broadcasting Company has outdone itself with the current multiple streaming technologies. That I can sit at the kitchen table, watching in-depth broadcasts of live field events without interruption (except for refereeing the “Olympic” dog wrestling matches here in Pataskala) is amazing.
American Pole Vault
I watched the Olympic Pole Vault, men’s and women’s, qualifying and finals, from the first vault to the gold medal efforts. As a forty-year pole vault coach, what did I learn?
Without getting ridiculously technical, there are lots of ways to “pole vault”. And after watching the Olympics, while I am confirmed in “my” technical theories, there are world class vaulters who use other techniques. They aren’t “wrong”, just different. It’s a lot like life: lots of different paths to reach the same goal. As a coach, or a person, it’s easy to think your way is the only “right” way. It’s just not. And the question I have, is how much do you “accept” the differences in the athletes you coach? Do you learn how to coach “the other” techniques – or continue to “bend” them to your “right” way?
I’ve known some national caliber vaulters, and the Olympics confirmed what I already knew. They are incredibly dedicated and amazingly talented, but they are still regular people. They laugh, they cry, and they get incredibly nervous in the crucible of competition. Some can channel that nervous energy towards improvement, but with the delicate balance of speed, technique and strength in the vault, it’s easy to get thrown off. Ask the Olympic Gold Medal winner, Katie Nageotte from Olmsted Falls near Cleveland. She was a last vault away from being out of the competition at the very start. But, she found a way to calm herself, clear the opening height, and move on to win the gold.
The Bar
By the way, the American men had a great vault too. The best “American” is vaulting in the blue and gold of Sweden, even though he grew up in Louisiana. But that’s OK, twenty-one year old Mondo Duplantis is the “golden boy” of vault, no matter what uniform he’s wearing. He attempted to clear a world record after he won the gold. American Chris Nilsen of the US was silver medalist. The other “best” in the world, American vaulter Sam Kendricks, went home with a positive Covid test before the competition.
And one last pole vault observation. It seems like a competition, person against person, but it’s really not. Pole vaulting is a competition between the vaulter and the bar – and all of the vaulters are united in trying to clear it. So it shouldn’t be a surprise that there is almost always a camaraderie among the vaulters. They clap, cheer, and commiserate with each other in the competition. They all want to “win” – but they all know it’s not the other vaulters that “beat” them. It’s the bar.
On the Track
That’s different in the running events. There the stopwatch is important, but finish place is all. And places ARE decided head to head. So the “camaraderie” of the running events isn’t quite the same. Runners share so much suffering together, they can relate, but the friendship is usually after the competition is over.
On this final day, the United States Track Team wanted to make sure that the world knew they “wanted” to win. There’s been a lot of criticism of team management – bad relay exchanges and just slow running by the men’s sprinting squad has left an audience with a bird‘s eye view questioning their commitment.
So it was a “hammer” women’s 4×400 team, with Allyson Felix as the one pure “400” runner. The veteran ran with two 400 hurdlers and an 800 meter specialist to win the gold medal within a second of the world record.
The men’s 4×400 did the same – gold medal “by a country mile” as the Australian announcer proclaimed. It may sooth some of the “wounds” of the competition – but questions still persist. Every good high school coach can diagnose the US 4×100 relay exchange failures. They’ve been going on for more than a decade, and the “best” coaches in the world haven’t solved the problem. It’s all about spending time and making a commitment – something that the US men’s team doesn’t seem to do.
Olympic Ideal
There’s still the marathon competition tonight, and I’m sure there’s a dramatic closing ceremony tomorrow. But as a track guy, the 4×400’s mark the end of the meet. Monday morning it will be back to the news, back to the seemingly endless crises the United States faces. Like the dogs, we will all be back “on schedule”.
The last track medal ceremony is for the women’s high jump. The gold medalist is from Russia. Because of past drug offenses, Russia is not allowed to participate as a national team. Their athletes compete under the Olympic Flag. So it is fitting that this last track ceremony is ending with the Olympic anthem rather than a national one. The few coaches and remaining athletes are dancing in the stands.
For one last moment, they all stand united in the Olympic ideal.
- The Sunday Story Series
- Riding the Dog – 1/24/21
- Hiking with Jack – 1/31/21
- A Track Story – 2/7/21
- Ritual – 2/14/21
- Voyageur – 2/19/21
- A Dog Story – 2/25/21
- A Watkins Legend – 3/7/21
- Ghosts at Gettysburg – 3/14/21
- Lessons from the State Meet – 3/28/21
- More Lessons from the State – 4/4/21
- Stories from the Road – 4/11/21
- A Bear Wants You – 5/1/21
- My Teachers – 5/9/21
- Old Friends – 5/23/21
- The Gift – 6/6/21
- Echoes of Mom – 6/20/21
- Stories of the Fourth – 7/3/21
- Running Memories – 7/25/21
- Lost Dog of Eldora – 8/1/21
- Dogs and Medals – 8/8/21
