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| Oh no!! Goodbye 40's -- Hello AARP!!! |
So
here I am -- sitting in my correctional center classroom at 6:35 in the
morning, planning what will be the last day that I spend as someone in his
40’s. And it is a bit nerve wracking, but gives great reason to take pause for
a few minutes.
Here’s
what is scariest. Like many people, when I turned 40, there was a feeling that
perhaps my life was now half over. At 50, that fraction has jumped to 2/3. How
did that happen in a decade that felt like it took three years to finish?
As I
look back on my first half-century, it is hard not to notice the ironic twists
that have made up my life so far.
Here’s a good example. My wife
Elizabeth and I have been married for almost 12 years. It’s a well-known fact
that we don’t have any children, as measured by the endless number of times I am
asked, “Don’t you wish you had kids?”
 |
Selfie taken today - the last day
of my 40's. At least I learned how
to take a selfie during this decade! |
I
have an answer. We’re both teachers. For the purpose of my personal argument, I
started scribbling numbers last night. Between coaching cross-country and track
(at five different schools) for 17 years, I estimated that there have been
about 800 young athletes who have called me “Coach.” Granted, some of these
“youngsters” are now well into their 40’s! As far as teaching for 12-13 years,
among the middle school, high school, alternative, college and current
correctional classes under my watch, the number of students probably exceeds
2,500. Heck, during my nine years at Centura College, I got new students every
five weeks, and had as many as 160 at a time. Adding on the students that I
have tutored, or administered SOL tests to at home, or any other variation of
educational experiences, my sum total comes up to almost 3,500 young men and
women under my guidance. Do I still miss not having kids????
Sometimes, but not often.
But under
the title of teacher or coach is only one way that people have known me. For
most of my teenage years, I was “that runner.” The persona in my 20’s was
probably “that guy that works at the Post Office.” In my early thirties, I was
probably more of “that guy that sings,” late 30’s – “that real estate agent.”
Even now, there are a few people that think of me as “that sports writer.” I’m
very thankful for the last one.
The
funny moments in life come when my colleagues from one generation become aware
of the other “Jims” that exist. For example, I lived in Alexandria, VA from
birth (obviously 1965) to 2003 and many people there have no idea that I
started writing and have about 400 bylines, this blog, and the co-author title
on a book. By contrast, many people in the Newport News/Tidewater area don’t
know that I ran cross-country and track in high school and college (Division I,
even!). I don’t blame them. I weigh about 207 now, roughly 60 pounds over my
old “fighting” weight.
Looking
back, there have also been some awkwardly memorable moments. Here are some
quick ones. Back in 1989, I was listening to Sam Kinison on the Howard Stern
radio show. Stern had just expanded his show back to the Washington, D.C. area,
and I was an avid listener, especially since my job at the Merrifield P.O.
ended at 6:30 AM. On one eventful morning, Kinison showed up to the show
BOMBED!! Just “Light ‘em up” drunk! Since we had a fax machine in the house
(home business), I sent a fax to the N.Y. studio of WXRK-FM and wrote that “I’m
getting drunk just listening to Sam!” It was fairly true, and sure enough, five
minutes later, Robin Quivers read the fax over the air. Kinison was beside
himself.
"(Andrew)
”Dice” Clay sent that!! That was Dice!! OH!! OH!! OH-H-H-H!!!!"
It
was a noteworthy enough event to garner inclusion into Stern’s “Private Parts”
book. Look it up – I forget the page number, but it’s there.
Three
years before that, at a business leadership seminar at New York University, I
had the honor and pleasure of meeting former President Gerald Ford during the 1
PM hour, then the distinction of getting CBS News’ veteran journalist Mike
Wallace in an argument with one of Wall Street’s most famous lawyers, Marshall
Manley, because of something I asked during a Q&A two hours later. Perhaps
the other significant event of this day was being followed to the bathroom by
three Secret Service agents during lunch (Ford was speaking).
For
the record, the question had to do with Janet Cooke of the Washington Post
winning a Pulitzer Prize from a fabricated story. Manley didn’t think the
journalism question was appropriate for the forum, and Wallace did. They
verbally sparred for a couple of minutes over it.
I’ll
end with a third, and it gets back to running. After my 1982 cross-country
season with Wagner College, we finally arrived at the end of the season, and
the chance to stay out real late and party on a Friday night because, for once,
we weren’t going to have a Saturday meet. Given my penchant for keeping the
saloon owners of Staten Island open as late as possible, I burned all of my
midnight oil, and staggered back to my room from Brandy’s Place around 3 AM,
totally unaware that four hours later, there would be an intrusive knock on the
door.
“JIM!!!!,”
yelled the voice through my dormitory barrier. “Get up! We need a fifth man!”
The open Metropolitan Championships were going to be held that day at the
fabled Van Cortlandt Park, and in spite of my intention not to run in this
“optional” meet, I was now about to be kicked into play. To add insult to
injury, this race would be a 10K (6.2 miles), as opposed to the regular five-mile
college races.
There
was a large gathering at the starting line, but I stumbled to a spot in the
second row center. And why not? If I was going to go down in flames, I was
going to go LARGE! As we readied to start, an old man on a megaphone began to
make an announcement.
“We
are honored and pleased to have one of the all-time greatest distance runners
with us today. He was a standout at Villanova, and in his career has
distinguished himself as one of our great milers. I would like to introduce the
current world record holder in the mile.. EAMONN COGHLAN!!”
In 1982, Eamonn Coghlan, of Ireland, was the only runner in history to have broken the 3:50 mile indoors. I watched his races with admiration and awe, jumping up and down in my parents' kitchen when he broke the world indoor record. He was my running hero.
Feverishly, I looked around to see where
Coghlan was. Nothing on the left, and nothing on the right. So it was
surprising when I noticed that the runner two feet in front of me started
waving to the crowd. In a moment of surrealism, I shook my hero’s hand, wished
him luck, and waited for the gun to go off.
Our harrier duel was a short one. I managed
to stay with Coghlan for about 100-meters, but ended up losing by about five
minutes! In fairness, he beat everyone by well over a minute. Hell, I was just
happy to place about 55th out of over 400 runners considering the
condition that my condition was in.
Fortunately, it has been events like this
that made me want to sit down and write about them. So, as I turn 50 tomorrow,
I can finally, finally say that I know what I want to be when I grow up!! And,
if you have made it this far, thank you for allowing me to indulge! CHEERS!
