Why is track the greatest spring high school sport? Because we can get away for Spring Break! Does your high school child play baseball or woman’s soccer? Have fun sitting on those cold bleachers this week. The New Trier coaches will offer up the training schedule and turn everybody loose to train on their own until April 1st. So as a track family, we’ll pack the running shoes, load up the SUV that just hit 100,000 miles and drive 15 hours to Panama City Beach, the Redneck Riviera, to a cozy condo. If you have never been to this part of Florida, picture Girls Gone Wild meets Deliverance on the most beautiful beaches in the world. Or, if that example doesn’t quite paint the picture, think about the email you get from your buddy that is titled “The People of Wal-Mart” where the 400 lb. woman wearing a beaver-pelt hat and polka dot pajamas is pushing her 80 lb. husband in a stroller as he drinks a 12 pack of Old Milwaukee at the local Wal-Mart. Not only are those photos not staged, I’m pretty sure most shots came from the Panama City Beach Wal-Mart.
I’ve been reading the blogs from pole-vaulter, Sarah Bell. I just picture her going down to Florida after the Prep Top Times meet with a long pole sticking up through her family vehicle sun-roof to be able to practice clearing RV’s in a parking lot in Florida. It’s good to be a distance runner.
I’m sure our journey will look like most past trips to the beach for Spring Break. We’ll hit the road Saturday at 6 AM. To wake everybody up, I’ll crank up the volume to Van Halen’s song Panama. I’ll wait a few more years before I tell my son that the song is about a stripper, and not about our destination. Some of us will eat tons of junk food along the way to pass the time. Junk food for Court and Jess are baby carrots, sugar snap-peas and grapes. I’ll blow through a giant bag of Twizzlers Pull-n-Peel by the time we get to Indy. With four drivers, we can all take a turn. Once I give up the wheel, I will have good intentions of catching up on some reading of work publications, but I’m sure I’ll just grab the iPad and watch Old School, Step Brothers, Superbad or Hall Pass for the um-teenth time. If things go as planned, we’ll hit the beach around 9:30 PM. I’ve been stockpiling coffee cans so we’ll only need to stop for gas.
By Sunday night of spring break my NCAA Bracket will be completely busted. The Illini may already be bounced and I’ll spend the rest of the tournament cheering against Michigan and Kansas (Michigan for beating the Flying Illini in the 1989 Final Four, Kansas because Bill Self jumped off the Illini ship).
Unfortunately, I’ve got some work to do once I get to the beach before I can kick back in my XS Euro swimsuit with an umbrella drink. A few weeks ago, while sitting at a meet at York HS, I watched a runner complete her 400 dash in 1:15. I really wasn’t talking to anyone in particular when I stated, “I could beat that time.” To which Debbie replied, “Prove it”. So, this 45 year old will put his lungs and hamstrings to the test once we arrive by trying to go sub 1:15 for a quarter mile. Luckily, there are Waffle Houses every quarter mile, so I’ll just need to run from one to the other in under 75 seconds.
Each morning of Spring Break will have the usual routine. Courtney, Jess and Debbie will pull on the running shoes and the three of them will hit the pavement for an intense running regiment. Debbie won’t be stride for stride the entire time, but she won’t be too far behind either. I’ll head off in the opposite direction so that there is no question about me trying to hang with the 3 blonds.
The family condo in Panama City Beach was also the scene of another painful life lesson for me (I could probably write for the next 3 years with these lessons).The year was 1999 and I was attempting my first half ironman distance triathlon. I still had not mastered my training going into the race (translation: I didn’t train very hard). I got off my bike and started the 13.1 mile run. Mile 3 of the run literally took me right past the parking lot of my parent’s condo. My mom was sitting on the edge of the run course with Courtney and Jessica who were 4 years old. When they saw me coming they all started cheering really hard. Usually seeing family is the energy boost one needs. Not this time, I was spent! Since I was basically home at that moment, I stopped running and started walking off the course toward the condo. My mom asked me what I was doing and I told her, “I quit”. That was the wrong answer. I should have told her I was going in to use the bathroom and just locked myself in the condo. She replied, “What! You are not setting an example that quitting is an option! What will your girls think?” But I’m thinking…what will my daughters think if I punch their grandma in the face right now?! Darn it, why are parents ALWAYS right? (Children, read that last line very closely multiple times)
I turned around and just stared at my mom for roughly a minute thinking of every swear word I had ever learned. Reluctantly, I started back toward the run course walking at first and then moving into a slow jog and finally getting back up to race speed. Mom was right, quitting was not an option. I don’t like holding grudges too long so I finally decided to start talking to her again last year. (Just a joke, I love my mom) I guess I could have used her advice around minute 5 of my high school cross country career.
Tyler: “Hey dad, why are there so many Waffle House’s here?
Dad: “Well son, it gets pretty hot and humid down here so they built Waffle House so people would have a place to chain smoke all day in the air condition.”
We love Panama City Beach Florida. Now, bring on outdoor track!
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