Respect and Dignity

When you were growing up, did you have someone tell you that the sky was the limit?  Did you have someone in your life that supported you no matter what?

Maybe it was your parents.  (Surely it was your parents.)  It could have been a teacher.  For me it was a coach.

Oh my mom used to tell me every morning as I left for school "tell all those girls how handsome you are."  I wasn't.  She knew I was insecure about all that. 

My parents certainly had academic expectations for me.  They expected good grades.  They expected me to go to college.

I have no idea how they so fully manifested those expectations.  It was never an option for me.  And this was from a largely uneducated family.  My dad dropped out of school in the 6th grade to provide for his family when his own dad died.  (And sorry if you've heard that before.)

My mother completed high school but nobody in my family had ever gone to college.

The importance of education was a lesson I learned completely.  I wish I knew how they did that.  I would share it here and scream it to the masses.

Our parents have an indelible influence on who we are, what we do, and what we become.

I often (too often, probably) say that I don't see many bad kids but I see too many bad parents.

Let me tell you a little story.  Last Saturday, while returning to Heritage High School at the end of the Tour de Blount, I was approaching Coulter's Bridge when a young man, maybe 19 or 20, who was also on a bicycle but standing off the road, yelled at me as I passed "you do realize you're blocking traffic, don't you?"

My answer was "yes I do" although seconds later I wished I had said "you do realize that I am traffic, don't you?"

Now this isn't about to turn into another piece on the rights of the bicycle rider (the late, great Jim Dykes would say atta boy to that) but one about respect. 

What kind of upbringing did this kid have that would give him the impression that he could disrespect a complete stranger that way?  An obviously much senior stranger?

What lessons did his parents teach him (or not teach him) that left him with the impression that he could say anything to anybody, to disrespect  that complete stranger?

I mean, you could ask why he was so ignorant of traffic laws.  I had every right to be on that road.  Sure, there was a car behind me but he had only just gotten there and I was approaching an intersection where I would have allowed him to pass.  Do his parents really let him drive a car without knowing the basic rules of the road?

I believe that one of the basic lessons our parents owe us is how to be respectful.  How to represent the family with dignity.  To be polite, courteous, and considerate. 

I also believe those things form the basis for producing successful adults.  And I believe that this young man's parents have failed him.

Not Just Tennis Elbow

How many of you have helped set up a wedding or other event and moved a lot of folding chairs in doing so?  If you've done that, you might know what I'm talking about. 

Here's the scenario:  Most people will pick up two chairs at a time, holding them from the top.  There are usually a lot of chairs to set up for a wedding or some kind of event.  That means a lot of lifting.

OK, if you've done that, do you remember waking up on Sunday or Monday morning with the outside of your elbow really hurting? If this is the scenario (or something like it) and that's where you hurt, what you've developed is lateral epicondylitis, sometimes known as "Tennis Elbow." 

Do this:  with your arm in front of you, bend your wrist backwards.  That is called wrist extension.

Now think about what you're doing when you pick up all those folding chairs--you're extending your wrist against resistance.  Maybe you're not actually moving your wrist backwards but you are resisting wrist extension.

The muscles that extend the wrist are mostly in the forearm and, more specifically, attach to the outside of the elbow.

And that's where the problem ends up.

Lateral epicondylitis is usually due to repeated trauma, putting too much stress on your elbow too many times.  Like carrying those folding chairs.

It got the Tennis Elbow name because a lot of tennis players (particularly beginners) develop it.  Most of the time, if tennis is the culprit, it is usually from hitting a backhand with bad form.

If you think about it, the mechanism is the same as lifting all those folding chairs.

The backhand in tennis is essentially a wrist extension activity.  If the problem in is poor form, the solution can often be a session or two with a good instructor.

In doing so, you fix the cause of the problem.  You remove the trauma.

That happens to be the best solution regardless of how you developed lateral epicondylitis--you've got to fix the cause.  In the case of carrying all those folding chairs, you've probably learned your lesson.

But there are a lot of other things that are similar that can contribute to lateral epidondylitis.  Picking up a suitcase or briefcase.  Lifting anything by a handle.  Once started, anything you grasp can hurt. 

And once you get a raging case of lateral epicondylitis, it can be hard to get rid of.  It seems like everything you do, every time you even clench your fist, you aggravate it.

Sometimes it requires medical intervention.  But even then, if you don't do something about what caused it in the first place and what is keeping it aggravated, you won't stay better.

Most of the time, that part is pretty simple--any time you pick something up, lift with you palm facing upward.  That avoids stress on those wrist extensors and allows everything to heal up.

Decide what you are doing that is contributing to the problem and fix it.  Do that consistently enough and you should be fine.

It's Time To Smile

Do you smile when you get your picture taken?

(OK, it's at this point that you are convinced that Joe has finally gone over the edge.  Or that after 30 years he's finally ran out of things to write about.  Or both.)

Bear with me a minute. 

I was one of those kids that never smiled whenever he had his photograph taken.  Every school picture I ever had made--no smile.  Some were even more of a scowl. 

That habit carried on into the teen years and beyond.  Not so much as a smirk.  My high school year book?  Literally a frown.  Especially on my football pictures.   Trying hard to look mean.  Or serious.  Probably both.

Oh, I remember one exception, a photo that I had made lying on my college dorm bed after having won an intramural football game.  It wasn't a full-blown smile...more of a grin. 

The first family photo that I had made was while in school in Memphis.  It was my wife and I with our dog.  Imagine this--puffy hair of the day, rainbow striped suspenders.  And nary a smile.

I think I was always afraid of appearing anything less than totally serious about life (yeah...I know...those rainbow suspenders--go figure).  I hated a "fake smile" and was convinced that my smile would come across as that.  And I didn't have particularly good teeth either.

(OK...by now you're totally convinced that Joe has finally lost his ever-loving mind.   And that there can be no relevance in these ramblings.  Especially not in the sports pages.)

I sort of finally figured it out and now I just imagine something really happy in my life (a perfect day with friends on the bicycle, the eager greeting of a grandchild, coming home to my wife in the evening, winning state championships in football) and the smile comes naturally.

But today I want to tell you about two young men that have been a part of my life for a while who just graduated from high school and who I will miss very much.

And two of the things I'll miss most about them are their smiles and their positive attitudes. 

Both of them were valuable members of this year's MHS football team.  Both are effective leaders on and off the field.  I've known both of their fathers for a very long time--even took care of one of them while he was growing up.

When they came in the training room, they were always joking and smiling and having a good time.  

On the field, they displayed that same positive energy.  You could just tell that they were enjoying themselves playing this sport that we all love.

It helped them deal positively with pressure situations.  When we were struggling, you got the same positive attitude.  When they made a mistake, they were quick to forget about it and get ready for the next play.

Their smiles and their joy didn't interfere with their performance.  It did not detract from their intensity.  If anything, it added to it.  It was truly joyful to watch them play.

Josh Yoakum and Drake Martin, I'm sure going to miss you guys.

24 Hours a Day

Why do I get up at 4:30 to workout?

My mountain biking buddy (Ken Bell) and I went to this incredible new mountain bike area that I'm going to leave unnamed because I really don't want it overrun with people (OK, it's Loyston on Norris Lake).  I was just bombing down this trail that was filled with berms and banked turns and all manner of obstacles that make mountain biking really fun.

I made the comment that I felt just like a kid on a BMX bike out there.

Then it dawned on me...THAT'S why I get up at 4:30 to workout.  There's no way that I could have done that if I weren't in pretty good shape.

And I started thinking about all the other things that I do.  (So, yes, this column is a bit too much about me, but hopefully you will learn something about yourself or maybe you won't and you will still be entertained a bit.)

Like work long hours.  I often say that I only work a half a day, Monday through Friday.  After a mild pause for dramatic effect, I add that 12 hours is about all anybody should work.  (Get it?  Half a day?  12 hours out of 24?)

There's really a lot of truth in that.  Especially during football season.  My Fridays begin at that aforementioned 4:30 AM and generally last until about 10 PM, unless I have to run to the hospital to check on an athlete I've sent to the Emergency Room, in which case it could be considerably later.

Why do I lift weights and do things like squats and deadlifts and pullups that are generally what you think of only when you think of someone a lot younger than I am or playing sports?

So I can lift and tug and carry heavy things without risk of hurting myself.  It's called real life.

Why do I ride a bicycle over distances that some people (OK...a  lot of people) consider insane?

Well, I do enjoy riding the bicycle but sometimes it might be nice to sleep in on Saturday morning, especially in January when the outside temperatures lean one a bit more toward staying snuggled underneath the covers and savoring a warm breakfast and hot coffee while perusing the newspaper.

But then I'll ride Allegheny Loop Road from one end to the other as hard as I can go and do so without really getting winded and then I realize that my fitness level allows me to enjoy those things.

You can't imagine riding a bike up Foothills Parkway?  To me it just means that rolling hills that I encounter elsewhere are a piece of cake after training on that first 3 mile climb up the Parkway.  Or up Butterfly Gap.  Or up The Wall (Montvale Road past Camp Montvale).

A high level of fitness allows you to do things like that without suffering.  And you get a high level of fitness by doing things that others might consider insane.

So every  Saturday morning I'm up and on the bike.  Year round.  Cold and hot.

And I do a lot of other things too.  Like hiking, paddling, farming, gardening, chasing grandchildren, and on and on.

That's why you're going to find me up and going at it hard, regardless of the weather, regardless of how I might feel, regardless of the time of day.  Those things are only excuses.

There's only 24 hours in a day and I'm gonna fill 'em up!  (And I'm going to be fit enough to have fun doing them.)