“Like coaches everywhere, it’s out of my hands now. Hay is in the barn.”
My Thanksgiving week began Saturday at precisely 9:24 in the morning. I was standing atop Reservoir Hill at Mt, San Antonio College cross country course. My girls team was racing for their Southern California division title. The fifth and final scoring runner crossed the finish line at 32 seconds past the minute.
Reservoir is a lofty viewpoint, allowing coaches to not only cheer for their runners as they make their climb to the summit, but also follow their progress back down the hill into the stadium for the finish. I was frantically refreshing the Finished Results app to get a final score. I had promised the girls that if everyone improved by twelve seconds we would win. Tim Sharpe, a longtime rival, suddenly appeared at my side. We’ve been doing battle for fifteen years. I love the guy. He was also refreshing his phone.
The final score came up, showing we had finished second. Not only had my runners improved by twelve seconds each, some had improved by as much as 25 in just one week. Sadly, the winning team’s girls also improved by the same margin. We lost, but made the podium and moved on to State next week in Fresno. Tim’s girls, which now run in a different division, also finished second. A great day for two coaching nerds.
So while the rest of America thinks of what comes in the next few days as Thanksgiving, I think of it as the final training week punctuated by a large meal on Thursday. This is Week 24 of our progression. We will peak and sharpen from 8-10 a.m. each day. They will run on their own Thanksgiving Day.
As for the holiday meal, Callie and I usually have the entire family over, all 30 or more distant relatives. But we’re keeping it calm this year. Just the two of us and the boys and their significant others. We’re going non-traditional, doing rib eye. My Aunt Catherine has been kind enough to send my grandmother’s ziti recipe. Devin is bringing something green to eat. Liam is making a pie. Connor will be there late, coming from work. Calene and I will toddle off to bed around 9 pm, whereupon the real party will start.
By the time the boys wake up, I’ll be on a plane for Fresno. Driving the 5 on Thanksgiving weekend lost its allure years ago. I fly. The team takes a van. I’ll meet the girls in Fresno, where they’ll jog the course the day before the race. Check in. Pick up race bibs. BS with old coaching friends. Then it’s back to the hotel. Dinner at the House of JuJu. A burger, precisely two beers, then back to my room, lock the door at 6 pm, and watch college football until it’s time to go to sleep. Up at 4:30, be the first person at Starbucks, jog the course as the sun rises while listening to an old Springsteen bootleg (San Siro from the Rising Tour). Greet the team when they arrive around 8. Last-minute strategy talk. Then wait nervously until race time. Head out onto the course to cheer. Hope for the best. Madly refresh Finished Results as they begin crossing the finish line. This has been my routine for more years than I can remember.
I hope for a win. Like coaches everywhere, it’s out of my hands now. Hay is in the barn. I’m thankful for yesterday’s podium spot. We won a nice plaque. I can’t wait for this final week of training. Thanksgiving Day will be a blast. Being in Fresno on Thanksgiving Saturday is an honor, for which I am also deeply thankful. Should we make the podium again, that would have me walking on air.
But it’s been an eventful few months in our household, thanks to the scourge of cancer and its side effects. More than anything this Thanksgiving week, I give thanks for my sweetie and the fact that she’s not allowed to lift a finger on Thursday.
If, for some reason, you are taking the people you love for granted right now, don’t. There is the stuff we do that gives us joy and the people who we love that make it all matter. Happy Thanksgiving.
Martin Dugard is a best-selling author, a board member of the USA Track & Field Foundation and a high school cross country and track coach.
