Rivalries

For me it was Lenoir City.

Let me step back a moment. I'm from Loudon, Tennessee. You might have heard of it--it's not far from here.  

Growing up, our biggest rival was in that too similar town about 6 miles away from us called Lenoir City.

No...that's not quite adequate.  It was more than rivalry.  Kids (and I suppose adults too) grew up simply disliking anybody from the other town.  It was sort of automatic.

Heck, many from Loudon didn't really like Halloween because of all the orange and black (Lenoir City High's colors) associated with that holiday.

In my 35 years in Maryville, I've come to recognize what a great rivalry exists between Maryville and Alcoa.  The two cities, which share a border, are each other's favorite team to beat.,

I know for certain that there are folks from Maryville that really, really want Alcoa High to go 14-1 in football every year and folks in Alcoa that feel the same way about Maryville.  It's more like we are siblings around here. I want to beat you in H-O-R-S-E but will pull for you to beat the kid down the street every single time.

William Blount and Heritage-great schools with great people-just don't seem to have the same kind of rivalries.  I suppose that in the years before I got here, there were some other great rivalries.  Maybe Friendsville and Lanier.  I'm sure Townsend and Walland were great rivals. 

But Loudon/Lenoir City was something different altogether.   It was almost hate.   You didn't have friends from the other city.  You surely wouldn't date somebody from the other city. 

Lenoir City didn't like the fact that Loudon was the capitol of the county (and it was called Loudon County).  

Loudon didn't like the fact that the only public pool until the 70's was in Lenoir City. 

On and off the field, contests were often marred by rock throwing and fights behind the stands.  

It really shouldn't be that way.  We should never hate someone because of the school they attend or the city where they live just like we should never hate someone because of the clothes they wear or the color of their skin.

Or the music they listen to or the way they talk.  We should never hate someone because of where they are from and God knows we should never hate someone because of the church they attend.

I've given up a lot of hate through the years.

Maybe not so much hate but misplaced dislike.

I encountered a fellow from my past recently.  It had been years since I had heard from him.  I didn't ever hate him but I really didn't like him.  Didn't like the way he did his job.  Didn't like the way he did things.

You know what?  He's got a grandkid now and has faced some struggles in life that some might not even call fair and that once upon a time I might have considered poetic justice.

But now, I find that I feel a kindness for him and even remorse for past feelings.  I bet that if I'd just let myself, I would have probably liked him.  We might have even been friends.

Don't ever let hate get in the way.  Keep it out of your heart.  As I've heard all my life, hate the sin, not the sinner.

On our playing fields, pull for your team with all your heart.  Off the field, be friends.  It's so much healthier that way.

But I still don't like orange and black.

Staying Off the Obituary Page

A friend of mine recently noticed a large number of obituaries for folks in their 40's, 50's, and 60's and wondered if there was a trend there.  Had something changed?  Were people truly dying younger?

I'd like to think I'm not afraid of dying but then I've not been there yet.  I'm pretty much like the Kenny Chesney song  that says something like "I want to go to heaven but I don't want to go today."

So the way I figure it, there are three ways to look at my friend's comments.  One, people really are dying earlier.  Maybe.

Two, he's wrong.  I sure hope that one is the case.

Three, he's still wrong but as we get older and folks "our age" die, it just hits too darn close to home.  And we notice it more.   That one seems the most likely answer.

But let's look at the first one.  Are people dying younger?  Nah...all you've got to do is look at the statistics. 

In the United States, the average life expectancy today is 81.17 years for women and 75.96 for men.  I looked back to 1953, the year I was born, and it was 72 for women and 66 for men.  I think it's safe to say that people are living longer now and that just makes sense.

In doing the research, I also found some other interesting statistics.  If a man today reaches 65, they can fully expect to make it to 84.  Not too bad.

And women that reach 65 can expect to live to 86.  One in four of those 65 year olds will live past 90 while one in ten will make 95 or better. 

OK.  I'll take that.  Come on 65!

But in the meantime, what can we do to live longer? (You probably knew when you started reading that I was gonna get around to the sermon of the day.  And you were right.)

We need to exercise regularly.  You don't have to exercise seven days a week but you do need to exercise at least five times a week.  Yet, seven does sound good.

Exercise is like eating to me.  I occasionally give myself a day off from my exercise regimen but that's happens only when I'm too busy or when my body simply needs a rest. 

I've learned to listen to my body more as I've gotten older.  Unfortunately, for most people, their bodies lie to them--their bodies are just an excuse.  But after several days of hard exercise, your body might need a break.

We need to keep our weight under control.   We know that obesity and heart disease are directly linked.  So are obesity and diabetes and even certain types of cancer.

We need to be happy. Yeah, really.  Statistics tell us that happy people live longer. 

We need to have a significant other.   I suppose that those in a happy relationship get a double bonus.

Pretty simple formula.  As for me, I'm going to do today (and every day) what it takes to be healthy and active for as long as I can. I'm going to laugh more and make sure my wife is happy too.

If you remember, I plan to ride my bike to Washington at 107.  

Why I Ride

On February 24th, Bill Crisp was riding bicycles with a group of 5 when a wreck happened in front of him.  When he struck another rider, he was catapulted over his handlebars, striking his forehead.  His helmet, later found to be broken into five pieces, saved his head.  It couldn't save his neck.

Bill's accident has left him with serious injuries.  He is currently hospitalized after undergoing emergency surgery.

This one hits close to home for several reasons.  First, Bill is my friend.  We've spent a lot of time on bikes together.  Second, I was there with him, from moments after the accident until the ambulance carried him away.  Thirdly, it could happen to any of us.

Maybe you've seen us, riding the back roads and country lanes.  On this particular day, we had been up Carr Creek Road in Townsend.  We had all left from the same place.  I wasn't with Bill's group but was with another group that had taken the long way around Townsend.

Just the Thursday before, I was with Bill and about 25 others who rode bikes to Elkmont and back for Bill's 75th birthday.  His wife met us there with bananas and muffins and then back at Cycology Bicycles with pizzas upon our return.  It was a great day.

If you've seen groups of riders, you may have noticed that we seem to ride awfully close together. People ask why we ride so close.  It's hard to explain.

Part of it is the nature of the sport.   It's almost like being on a team, where everybody moves and works together.  It seems odd but it's also like dancing--with everything moving together.   It is also a means by which riders of different levels can ride together.  Just like in NASCAR, drafting is a real advantage.  

After Bill's accident, someone suggested to me that we should stay 10 feet apart for every 10 mph we are traveling.  That wouldn't be biking as I know it.  Riding in a group allows you to go farther and faster and builds friendships and camaraderie that are hard to find these days.

But Bill's injury makes me do a lot of things and today it makes me stop to think why I ride.

I ride to be with others in a trusting relationship.  You've got to be able to trust those that you ride with, otherwise you can't ride together.  And you've got be trustworthy or there will be accidents.   

I ride because I didn't have brothers growing up.  I've got several now.  Steve, Ken, Clark, Rat...actually there are too many to name.  How great is that?

I ride because I can't play basketball anymore, a game I truly love.  It's been a long time since I could run for exercise (bad knees) but I should be able to bike for many years to come.

I ride because my health is important to me and exercise is essential to good health.  It's really hard to be healthy without exercise. 

I ride to feel the air around me, to be a part of the world, to move with grace and speed that aren't options to me in any other arena.  I ride to share this sport with others so that they can discover the joy that I find on two wheels.

I will continue to ride despite the injuries to my friend.  He will be the first to tell you that he was hurt doing something he loved.  That this was an accident, nothing more, nothing less.

And if he thought that his injury would stop me from riding, he would be all over me.  So ride I will.  I hope you understand.

White Hat Syndrome

Call it "white hat syndrome" if you want to but I've always wanted to be that person that others describe by saying "he's one of the good guys."

I never had that wild streak.  I had a girl break up with me one time because I wasn't wild and crazy enough. Well...maybe she said I wasn't "exciting" enough but I suppose she went for those rebels, the guys with an edge and a taste for beer and cigarettes.

Heck, I never even really held a cigarette to act like I was about to smoke it, much less lit it up.  Oh I might have kept a Red Man pouch hidden somewhere on my tractor but it didn't take me long to figure out what a disgusting habit that was.

These days, I want to be the one about whom parents say that they feel better with their child on the playing field because I'm on the sidelines.  Confident enough that if their athlete/child gets hurt that they're in the best hands possible because I'm there.

I can remember a football team I was around not too long ago where some of the guys were doing some things that they shouldn't have been doing.   This one kid--not the best athlete nor the smartest or richest or even best at much of anything--stood up and said stop.

How hard must that have been?   Peer pressure is huge when you are a teenager.  It's a lot easier to just fall in with the crowd.  I wish I had been that boy.  He did the right thing.

Our young folks are faced with choices that we almost can't comprehend.  I can remember being shocked the first time that I saw someone my own age with a beer.  We were 18.  Now parents are providing alcohol at their teenager's parties, rationalizing that it is better for them to drink at home than on the road.

By the way, did you ever wonder why there are so many beer cans on the sides of our roads?  Maybe I see them more because I travel those roads on the back of a bicycle.  A large part of those beer cans are from underage drinkers who want to dispose of the evidence.  They can't go home and put them in the trash can.  Think about it.

I read a story recently about a guy that was robbed at knifepoint.  After turning over his wallet, he offered his jacket as well.  "If you're going to be robbing people the rest of the night, you might as well take my coat to keep you warm."  And he added, "if you're willing to risk your freedom for a few dollars, then I guess you must really need the money."

I want to be that guy.  I'm not sure I could do the same thing.

I want to be the guy that makes you a better person just by association.  Who by virtue of always doing the right thing makes you want to be like him.

I want to be the guy that stands up for those that are discriminated against.  For those that are down on their luck.  For the guy who just can't catch a break.  I want to defend the person that is unable to defend themselves, who speaks when they can't speak, who goes where they are unable.

How often do we have the opportunity to do the right thing but turn away because it just isn't convenient?  I wish I never made a decision based on convenience but I have.  Too often.

The way I look at it, you can do the right thing or do the easy thing.  They seem too rarely the same.