by Dave Presby
I. Building a Base II. Warming Up III. The Race IV: Crossing a Finish Line
V: Cooling Down
Later that evening back at the campground, Dad and I were packing up our campsite in preparation for the long drive home the next day. The evening air was crisp, and the steady lapping of the tidal waters at the rocks was just barely audible below the sharp crackling sounds from nearby campfires. The gently rippling surface of Somes Sound was fully illuminated by a lazy moon, lounging high in the night sky, just beyond the grasp of the towering evergreens. I was about to grab my bathroom pack from our tent when I heard a rustling and the crackling of sticks nearby. I turned to look towards the noise and saw two shadowy figures making their way down the path towards the dock. All of a sudden, Dad’s head popped out of the tent.
Oh no… no… not now. For the love of God, please not now…
“You two know about… the toll… don’t you?”
The two dark shrouds stopped in their tracks.
“Come on, Dad,” I whispered. “I’m tired. I want to go to bed. What if they’re terrorists?”
“The toll?” a female voice called out.
“You have to pay a toll to walk down the path to the docks. Otherwise, the troll will come out from under the dock and block your way.”
“Is that so,” a second female voice piped up. “At this hour of the evening?”
At that point, two lovely ladies crossed the property line into our half torn-down campsite, stepped into the light of Dad’s lantern, and introduced themselves. We learned they were best friends from Florida who were currently traveling all over the Northeast with their bikes, camping together, and exploring some of the area’s popular bike trails. Dad introduced himself, and I did the same. Then, for the eighth time that day, I had the pleasure of hearing about the history of Mount Desert Campground, the history of Mount Desert Island, and the history of Acadia National Park, as well as a captivating account of my very own fourth place finish in the Bar Harbor Half Marathon. Our new friends Kelly and Chris were so taken by Dad’s enthusiasm that they invited us back to their campsite to enjoy a glass of wine.
During the hour that followed by light of their campfire, I learned several things. I realized almost immediately that I’m not a big fan of port, finding it to be too sweet and dense for my tastes. My adult beverage of choice remains a deep, warming pint of Scotch Ale.
As we all talked and shared, I learned that Dad and I had quite a bit in common with our new friends. Chris’ story was nothing short of heartbreaking, as we soon learned that she’d recently lost both her husband and mother to ALS within the span of six months. A few minutes of conversation with Kelly revealed that a significant relationship lasting several years had ended at some point during her recent past.
Being less than a year removed from a marriage spanning over a decade, this hit me close to home. Even if the end of a relationship is inevitable, or ultimately for the best, the feelings of grief, loss, and failure still persist… as we wonder and analyze what may have gone wrong, as well as whether or not we tried hard enough to fix what was broken. But all of the joy and enthusiasm that spilled out of Kelly and Chris served as a valuable reminder that there can still be plenty of life after the finish line.
Most importantly, we learned that there’s an app called ‘Couchsurfing’, which enables travelers to connect with locals who’d like to host them for overnight stays on their way through town. Of course, Dad’s ten-year old flip phone isn’t even remotely capable of storing a single app, let alone two dozen. But this temporary setback certainly didn’t phase him when he found out that Kelly and Chris would be traveling through eastern New York on their way down south.
“Why, my wife Carol and I would love to host you for a few nights,” he said enthusiastically. “There are several great biking trails around our area near the Susquehanna River that you can explore. And you can meet our new dog, Tucker!”
And so it came to be that in early October, new friends Kelly and Chris stopped to stay with Dad and Carol for two nights in their home near Bainbridge, New York. Of course, Dad didn’t exactly ask Carol for permission. Rather, he enthusiastically informed his wife that two women he’d met at the campground and talked to for just over an hour would be spending two nights with them in several weeks. Most husbands wouldn’t be slick enough to pull this off. Instead, they’d most likely find themselves spending several nights on the couch or in the garage… or out in the street. I wasn’t actually there to hear how the conversation unfolded, but I would have loved to have been the fly on the wall.
“Carol,” I imagine he began. “You’re going to absolutely get a kick out of these two ladies! They’ve been traveling all over the country with their bikes. I can take them on the rails-to-trails section along the river just outside of town. I thought it would be a real hoot if they stayed with us for two nights!”
It’s obviously every wife’s dream to hear this from their husband when he returns home from a week-long camping trip. If I heard this line coming from any other married man on the planet, I’d take pity on his poor wife, gently advising her to call her lawyer. However, I wasn’t the least bit surprised or alarmed hearing it from Dad.
When it comes to interacting with others, Dad has no hidden agenda, he’s not trying to sell anything, and he’s certainly not trying to push a particular viewpoint on anyone. He just genuinely loves people… all people. Whether it ends up being for a period of ten minutes or ten years, he’s truly interested in personal relationships and connecting with others. This was his greatest asset during his career in the ministry, and it continues to be his greatest asset that allows him to excel as a father, as a husband, or just as a friend.
To answer Dad’s original questions… Yes, I am happy with my device. I enjoy being able to reach friends and loved ones immediately. I like that I can play one of my favorite games from my childhood anywhere I go, without having to tote around a game-board or a cumbersome bag of wooden letters. When I’m visiting an unfamiliar town or city for a race and I need to find dinner, it’s very convenient to be able to quickly search for a restaurant.
Do I think that a personal device is something that Dad would find useful? No, I don’t. Mastering the technical aspects itself would be daunting enough for a man who never learned how to program the clock on any VCR he’s ever owned… instead, content to let the neon green digits on the display blink 12:00… 12:00… 12:00… 12:00… 12:00… over and over again for all eternity. Whenever our family gathered around the television to watch a movie, it was always high noon or midnight.
But more importantly, a personal device is ultimately about the enhancement of communication, and Dad certainly doesn’t need any assistance in this area. Thrusting a 2×6” electronic display into his hand would only hinder and ultimately handcuff him, essentially rendering him a helpless, frustrated blob of quivering, useless slop. As far as I know, Dad has never sent a text message in his life. I can only imagine the train wreck that would ensue if he ever tried to text one of his grandsons:
“Now David,” he’d say. “I’m trying to send Nathan a text message, but I’m having problems.”
“OK,” I’d say. “What do you want to say to him?”
“I want to type, ‘Hello, from Grandpa’’’.
“OK… Not very original, but easy enough,” I’d continue. “First of all, you don’t need to include ‘from Grandpa’. Just type, ‘Hello’. Once you send your message, Nathan will automatically see that it’s from you.”
“Oh… OK, that’s good to know,” he’d reply thoughtfully. “Now, I am having trouble starting the message. I can’t seem to find the letter ‘H’.”
“Well, the keyboard on your iPhone is laid out just like the standard keyboard on your old laptop,” I’d say. “The ‘H’ can be found right there in the middle between the ‘G’ and the ‘J’.”
“Oh…,” he’d say hesitantly. “There’s no keyboard on my screen.”
“Well, did you tap the ‘Messages’ app to open it up?”
“I don’t see any apps. The screen is dark.”
“Dad… Have you even turned on the phone?”
“No, come to think of it, I haven’t. Can you help me with that, David?”
What’s more, he still barely knows how to use the current phone that he’s owned for years. At this point, I’ve observed enough to know that he’s at least figured out how to call Carol. But watching him place that call is nothing short of excruciating.
“Now, David,” he’ll say. “I need to call Carol just to let her know that we’ve arrived safely to the campground.”
Even though he’s been making this call for several years, he still pulls the phone out of his pocket and studies it for several minutes with a curious expression on his face, as if it’s some sort of a rare, fossilized turd from a yet-to-be-discovered mammalian species. Eventually, he tries to open up the phone. If successful, he stares at the keypad for a few moments before awkwardly poking at the numbers. At this point, he either realizes that the phone hasn’t been turned on, or that the battery has died. Once the phone has been turned on, if this is a realistic possibility, he’ll poke again at the numbers on the keypad for a minute or so, until the electronic display lights up to his satisfaction. Once the correct number has been successfully entered, he stares at the phone again for a few more moments, this time with an expression of utter bewilderment. Eventually, he remembers that he needs to push the green ‘Send’ button. Finally, he pushes the ‘Send’ button, and the call is completed.
At this point, I’ve learned to flee the immediate area whenever Dad attempts a mobile call. For every time I find myself accidentally witnessing this cruel spectacle, a small portion of my soul cries out in anguish and withers away, ultimately suffering an agonizing, horrible death.
Bottom line… Dad doesn’t, nor will he ever need, a device. If he’s ever in an unfamiliar town and needs to find a sports bar or a hotel, chances are pretty high that he’ll be traveling with somebody else who has their own device. If he’s traveling alone, he already knows that he can call one of his children, who’d be happy to research or look up whatever he needs on their own devices. If he can’t reach us, then he’ll just knock on somebody’s front door and ask.
As for communication, there’s no app in existence, nor will there ever be one developed, which could possibly help Dad connect with people more effectively than he already does. While many people may rely on their smartphone or tablet to generate subject matter to hold the attention of a crowd, Dad instead chooses to entertain others by reciting ten page poems from memory, which he originally learned in his college literature classes almost fifty years ago. Or perhaps he’ll spend the better part of an hour telling riddles and jokes that are so incredibly stupid or wonderfully tasteless that every member of his audience can’t help but smile.
What’s more, in addition to those with whom he already has relationships, Dad is certainly not shy about about interacting with strangers. Whenever he’s traveling through New England, he has a habit of stopping at any of the several homes where he lived during his childhood, knocking on the front door, and introducing himself to whoever may be living there at the moment.
This strategy worked to Dad’s advantage during the four years that our family lived in Maine. One afternoon, he was running errands in Skowhegan, Maine when he noticed the New Balance shoe factory just across the street from his last stop. He crossed at the nearby signal, strolled right through the front door, and introduced himself to the first worker he saw. For the next twenty minutes, he talked about his running endeavors so passionately that he was hired as a running shoe tester on the spot. For several seasons, he was given free New Balance shoes to wear while he trained for his marathons.
Most importantly, Dad is somebody who has always been there for the people in his life that matter most. His greatest gift is his enthusiasm for and long-term investment in others. Once he’s has made a commitment to somebody, in whatever capacity that may be, he fulfills that promise to the very end… all the way across the finish line.
Up Next
StudioCrowlogue 26.2 
2 thoughts on “Training Yourself…Racing for Others (5)”