Take A Victory Lap

I remember from my high school track days that the winning team at the end of a meet took a victory lap around the track to commemorate their win. Though I'd never admit to watching NASCAR, my understanding is that the same holds true for winners there. Apparently, huge bottles of champagne, hot women, and flips off of car hoods do as well; though I don't remember those from my track days. Most people, including myself until recently, often resented those running the victory lap as arrogant, show-off snobs who love to rub winning in others' faces. Maybe they are. But I've come to realize just how important it is to allow ourselves, once in a while, to run those victory laps when we win.

Here's the thing: winning is so brief, and the moment is over so quickly. Unless born with exceptional talent, winners work tirelessly to succeed. Hours and days and months and years are spent, grinding, chasing, pushing, all with the goal of a moment of triumph. If you don't take a victory lap, that moment is over, blink, just like that. You'll always know that you won; however, you won't be able to bask in it, enjoy it, and reflect on all it took to succeed.

I just finished up my second Masters degree this week. It feels surreal. After three years of plodding along, of battling fatigue, guilt, British literature, and one professor who must have been high for most of the semester, it's over. Done. My family and I took yesterday to celebrate. The official moniker for the new holiday was "Happy No More Grad School Day!" It was a finish line for all of us. No more doing without Dad for my daughters. No more extra duty for my wife, who patiently and lovingly endured a constantly moody, tired husband committed to his office on evenings and weekends. We had a great day of playing and ice cream treats and even an impromptu water fight to end the day. But I'm not done basking in the victory yet. I want my victory lap.

So I'm going to run it. I'm going to take a week, or perhaps a month, and take one lap around the track. I'm going to reflect on the hours and frustrations of the journey, allowing them to drip off like sweat. On the back stretch I will go a little slower, remembering how I got to the finish line, especially all the people that got me and my family through. Around the final corner I'll start thinking about the next race I'll run and what training it will require. But down the homestretch I'll shove those plans aside and just run, smiling, high-fiving, and finish the lap with hugs, champagne, and a hot wife who hopefully remembers me.

I won't be running to brag or show off, but I will be celebrating this success. I am going to take this in, and I'm not going to feel guilty or conceited because of a lack of false modestly. None of us should feel like we have to apologize for feeling good about winning once in a while. Life has too many losses in it not to mark the victories.

For your next big win, don't forget the victory lap. I'll be sure to clap along with you.

Love Me with Fire and Brimstone

“The people who love you the most, tell you what you don’t want to hear.”
- Larry Shyatt (Florida assistant bball coach)

I found that quote on a daily basketball coaching email I get, and I liked it a lot. It’s something I’ve always believed, and it’s a lot like a Dan Rather statement I referenced on a recent post. Most of us don’t have nearly enough of this type of love in our lives.


Someone else who clearly believes in this is David McCullough, Jr., an English teacher who at a graduation speech reminded students that “You are not special. . . You see, if everyone is special, then no one is. If everyone gets a trophy, trophies become meaningless. ... We have of late, we Americans, to our detriment, come to love accolades more than genuine achievement.” (You can read an article about the speech and watch a video of it here. It’s 12 minutes long and definitely worth your time).


People cannot reach their full potential in life - whether in terms of relationships, profession, knowledge, faith, etc. - without someone to tell them the difficult truths. A recent Des Moines Register article that struck a nerve with me on this topic was one about young people fleeing traditional Des Moines churches in favor of nothing at all or more “progressive” churches. The woman quoted most in the article stated what she saw as the key reason: most people don’t want to hear about sin, God’s judgment, or hell, so they seek out churches that don’t preach on those matters.

I don’t care if you go to a 200 year old church, a 200 day old church, or no church at all, but I do think that’s an extremely dangerous (yet common) sentiment. It’s the same sentiment I get when my students read Jonathan Edwards’ famous sermon “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.” It’s rude, they say, for Edwards and churches today to establish that hell exists, that punishment and sin are real, that God has established standards of conduct and a desire for each of us to be better than what we currently are. God is love, they say. He’ll take me as I am, they add, followed by references to what a loving God will or won’t do in their mind.

Yes, God is love. And yes, He’ll take me as I am. Those are true, and that’s what I and many others want to hear. But we also need people in this world to tell us the truths that we don’t. They need to remind us that some of our behaviors are less than Christ-like, and that God does speak through ALL of Scripture. And they need to remind us of hell.

Here’s the thing: “Fire and brimstone” talk, the message of God’s judgment, is a communication of how good God is, of how far away from Him we are, and how desperately we need Him. It’s a communication that out of love he has created a way to bridge that gap and fulfill our needs. It reminds us He is the goal, not a comfortable, unexamined, unchallenged life here on Earth. And it reminds us that if God is for us, who can be against us?

I don’t like being reminded of my sin. I squirm when new sins I wasn’t even aware of are highlighted, forcing me to change. But I am thankful for those times. For through them, I am better and closer to the goal.

Games of Tag and Endless Conversation

I remember two things about growing up as Dad's partner when I was young and went with him to work on the farm.

The first is the countless rides in the truck. I have no idea how the game originated, but somewhere along the line Dad and I started playing tag in the cab of the truck. I know that playing a game of tag with absolutely nowhere to run seems silly, but somehow we made up rules about stop signs and placement of the truck and other absurdities that made it competitive and fun. It was an ongoing game, and we each took great pleasure in feigning having forgotten the game until the last second, when we could pounce and tag the other individual, jump out of the truck, and claim victory. The game was ongoing and lasted for many years. Bragging rights in our game of tag were larger than any trophy I could imagine in my youth.

The other memory I have of those days were the number of times Dad would get into a conversation with someone, and I had to stand there and wait, bored as hell. I could even predict when it was going to happen based on the time of day, location, and personnel we encountered. Dad would stand and talk for what seemed like hours to one of his landlords, or around a coffee table at the local welding business, or especially at the Coop. I knew better than to whine about it being time to go because I was bored; instead, I just stood there, occasionally listened, smiled when referred to, and bet with myself on how long it would take before we could leave. It didn't take long for me to figure out his "getting ready to leave" words. When certain phrases came up, I knew my wait was down to a couple of minutes.

As a man and a father now, I see two ideas I should have learned from these, whether he meant me to or not. The first is that every minute with my kids is an opportunity. Dad was a busy guy, and so am I now; what he showed in that game of tag was a willingness to make the moments we had together in the truck valuable. It was a stupid game of tag with ridiculous rules, and all DOT officials would probably frown on the lack of strict attention on the driving itself. But I remember it fondly, and it was something we did together that I remember more than two decades after the fact.

I also learned to value people. What I didn't understand in my youthful desire to get from place to place as quickly as possible is that Dad was building relationships. People are the real currency, not busyness. I have spent a great deal of time in my adult life rushing from place to place, hurrying to this duty and that accomplishment, chasing God knows what. In my rush to get I don't know where, I know there are times I saw people who wanted to stop and talk as a liability, not an opportunity. I wish I hadn't waited until I was 32 to learn the lesson of sitting around a table with cheap coffee, a cookie or two, and random conversation. But I know it now.

I may be a late learner, but I'm glad Dad was there to act out the lesson that no matter how busy the schedule is, slow down for your kids and slow down for people.  

A Smile as Big as My Face

Several months ago Emily, the girls, and I were at a hotel swimming pool. We played and splashed as most people would, and then a spontaneous game erupted: Throw the Roo. Roo is our affectionate nickname for my oldest daughter, Elise. Emily and I began throwing her up in the air to each other in the pool, catching her as she splashed and flailed and giggled into our arms. We had a great time.

This week Elise decided she wanted to draw a picture of us playing "Throw the Roo." While she's experimented with art by drawing shapes; cutting up construction paper into millions of pieces of confetti and taping them on individually to random areas of our home; and placing ink stamps, paint, and markers on paper and most areas of her body, this was her first real "scene" that she's drawn. Though a biased parent, I was impressed with the result, as I had never seen her draw anything like this before.

I was more impressed when she began telling me about the picture. She told me that she was the one in the middle, and "I have a smile that's as big as my face because I was having so much fun." That felt good. Really good. I'm not going to lie, I carry around a lot of guilt, hoping I haven't cheated my daughters out of a lot of fun times because I've chosen to drown myself in graduate work or been on bus rides to Des Moines for basketball games. I hope they're not going to look back on their childhood and remember a father who was either absent or in his office in front of a computer screen. And I'm sure I'll always worry about that, regardless of what my schedule looks like. It was great, though, to hear that an unplanned event months ago was still in her memory as causing "a smile as big as my face."

These are the events I am committed to chasing, randomly and purposefully, for both my kids and myself. I think back to times where I smile that big just remembering them - on the river with a friend, nights on the patio around the fire, wiffle ball games, date nights. All of them are with people.

It's a fallen world with fallen people who will most assuredly disappoint me and my family at some point. I'm sure I'll cause my own share of disappointment as well. But I know I want Throw the Roo-type events in my life. I'm committed to chasing them, not fictitious markers of success, one relationship at a time. I'll have to ask Elise to draw them for me, but you'll be able to tell which ones we are: we'll be the ones smiling.

Notes from 'Get Motivated'

Emily and I went down to Des Moines to the "Get Motivated" Seminar a couple of weeks ago. Dan Rather, Bill Cosby, Robert Gibbs, Karl Rove, and Joe Montana were among several speakers on a range of topics. I thought I'd share some of my notes on this blog post.

From Kirk Ferentz:

There are more games lost than are won. People lose because they fail to control the "avoidables" - those mistakes that don't have to occur. In sports and in life, it's not enough to avoid lamenting that which you can't control; you've also got to make sure that you absolutely take care of that which you can.

From Dan Rather:

1. You need someone in your life who will talk "straight" to you. Regardless of whether the truth is easier or hard, there needs to be at least on person who is willing to give it to you. Sometimes we need someone to confirm that we are indeed worthwhile. Others need to get knocked down a peg. Either way, a person like this is there to tell you what you can't see (but need to) on your own.

2. About yesterday - no tears. About tomorrow - no fears.

A quote from John Wooden

I thank God that I'm not what I used to be. If you're desperate to be what you once were, life is not moving in the right direction. 

From Robert Gibbs

Plan as meticulously in your personal life as you do for your professional goals. Everyone talks about their "5-year plan" or something similar that points to where one wants to go in their career. What do you want for your family? What do you want for your friendships? What kind of a person do you want to be? Plan for it. Prepare for it. Take practical steps to advance towards your vision.

From Bill Cosby

You're going to be 38 anyway! Do it! Cosby here is referring to individuals he hears say something like, "Well, I want to be a doctor; but I'll be 38 when I finally get done with school. I'm not sure I want that." Barring some unfortunate accident, 38 is going to come. Would you rather be a doctor at that point, or wishing you were one. Too intimated to start something because the end goal is so far away? Quitting smoking? New degree? Write a book? The more days that go by without starting, the farther back that end goal is pushed.

From Keith Craft

When you live a life that is focused on values, you'll make life better for those around you. A major goal for all of us is to make our own lives better. Much of the fodder for this blog is in regard to my search to make my own better. The point from Craft is that by focusing on values, you'll not only make your own experience better, you'll make the experience for those around you better as well.