Parents Out of Control

I was sitting with one of my granddaughters last week, watching one of her siblings play basketball. Behind us was a dad who yelled at his son the entire game. He was mostly encouraging, but called constantly to his son to give him tips and encourage him to “take it to the rim.” This dad never let up. He yelled The. Entire. Game.

The week before, I had been at a different game, again involving a grandchild. It wasn’t a particularly pretty game. The officials were doing a good job, stopping for teaching moments along the way. I happen to know both officials quite well. They are good men and were taking their Saturday mornings to help out. It would have been impossible to call every foul and whistle every infraction. We would have been there all day.

Sometime late in the game, the coach for one team was absolutely certain that his best player had been fouled. He screamed and gestured in a manner that would have made Bobby Knight proud. I didn’t know him from Adam but I was embarrassed.

Last week I worked a high school basketball game. It was highly competitive and came down to a last second shot but along the way, the visiting team was hit with 5 technical fouls, their best player was ejected, and one of their fans was escorted from the gym.

Here’s what I observed—their students, fans, parents, and school staff members spent the entire game screaming at the officials and the home team. Yelling obscenities, making hand gestures, and generally being out of control. No one should be surprised that the players on the court demonstrated such bad behavior. They were surrounded by it.

At some time, school administrators for that school should have stepped in and taken control of the student section. They didn’t. For all I know, they were part of it. I actually saw a teacher join the students at one point. Adults should know better.

Most of my sideline work is at football and baseball, where you are insulated from the comments of parents and fans. I will have a hard time if I eventually retire—I won’t be able to sit in the stands. When (not if) somebody says something about somebody’s kid or one of the coaches…well…I’m not sure what I will do but it won’t be pretty.

That dad needs to let his kid play. He needs to let him be coached and be part of the team. His kid was really good but that is no excuse. After the game, I saw the kid sobbing uncontrollably. I can only speculate why.

That coach needs to just calm down. He will find as he gets older (and wiser) that it isn’t that important. He will find that it’s far more important for his kids to develop motor skills, to learn how to be a good teammate, to understand what it is to be coachable.

He was probably the dad of one of the players on the team. I know it is hard to find coaches. Heck, the first full soccer game I saw, I coached. They for sure couldn’t find anyone better. But best case scenario is for a non-parent to coach those teams. Yeah, I know how hard, if not impossible, that is.

Do your job as a parent. Show love. Teach. Encourage. Support. Wipe the tears. Don’t make excuses nor allow excuses. Your child’s future depends on it. In life and in athletics.

One More Chat

I don’t want this to seem dark and gloomy. I want it to be something else entirely. But some life experiences this week caused me to think of my dad, who died in 1997.

Maybe it was the family gathered for Thanksgiving. Maybe it was when I sat with a dad that had just lost his son. I spent some time with my own son and that was part of it. Maybe that’s just the way these things work.

My dad was a simple man. He dropped out of school after the 6^th grade to go to work in a factory to support his family after his own dad had died. Think about that. Can you imagine sending your 12 year old off to work?

He was 16 when the Great Depression hit in 1929. Work was scarce so he moved from his hometown of Sweetwater to Knoxville, where he had a single room in the basement of a building and worked at jobs whenever he could find them.

He married my mom in 1941 and was the “old guy” at 30 in his Navy unit when he went off to war in 1943, serving in the south Pacific on the USS New Jersey. After the war, he moved to Loudon and got a job at the hosiery mill there. When a new factory opened, he moved there for better opportunities.

He had his first heart attack at age 45, and was forced into retirement ten years later. My summer job all through college was at that same factory. It was hot, nasty work but it paid well.

What I heard from those guys at that factory that had worked with my dad was that Carl Black was a hard worker. They told me that he always seemed to be going 100 miles per hour…that he often did the job of two people and looked for more.

He raised bees and strawberries, always had a huge garden, and each fall would help local farmers kill hogs to get some of the meat. He was always tinkering in his workshop and seemed to be able to fix anything. He was proud of his ice cream freezer, home-made and one of the first in our neighborhood to run off an electric motor. I was never hungry and I was never cold.

I guess I got my work ethic from him. I’m pretty sure I got my ambition from him. Not attending college wasn’t an option for me. I’ve wondered aloud how that came to be. I now realize it was probably from my dad, who never had that opportunity.

He was a little man, 5’6” and 145 pounds at his biggest. Sports were never an option for him but he became my biggest supporter in whatever I did. Because of his heart problems, he could never attend my football games. Doctors decided it was too much excitement for him. But I know he was always sitting at home alone, listening to the radio broadcast of my games.

Because of the blood thinners he took for almost half his life, he was always cold. He loved the hottest days of summer when he was finally comfortable. The last good memories I have of him are sitting with him in church and putting my always warm hands on his cold hands, then napping in the afternoon with him in the apartment he and my mom shared. He was gone the next day.

Like everyone, I would like one more visit with my dad, one more time to talk to him. I don’t have to think hard to know what I would say. I would tell him about the wondrous things that his grandchildren have done and introduce him to my own grandchildren. I would tell him about my life since his death. I know he would be proud that I went back to school and got my doctorate. Being able to call me Dr. Joe Black would have been his proudest moment.

But I would have only one question for him. “Dad, did I do OK?” Hug on somebody today.

Finding Your Place

I have a friend who is agonizing over how to best raise her son. (Haven’t a lot of us been down that road?) In particular, she wants to make sure that he is an active youngster and, as a result of that, becomes an active adult.

The problem is that he’s not really interested in sports. Nothing seems to click for him. She has introduced him to lots of things. Baseball. Martial arts. Gymnastics. Flag football. He has shown little interest in any of those.

Oh, he’s an active kid. He goes 90 miles an hour most of the time with lots of different interests. He certainly seems to love life. Still, this mom wants to make sure she is doing the right things for him.

We have a similar story with my own grandchildren. One seems to really enjoy running but it’s too soon to decide if that’s her sport and definitely too early to focus on just one thing. Another seems to have a lot of talent on the soccer field but is likely to play everything available to him.

I’ve introduced some of them to mountain biking and a couple really show potential there as well. I mentioned one of the grands last week who has really taken an interest in soccer. But I mistakenly said she was giving up ballet. She’s not. She’s another one that is likely to do lots of different things.

One set of grandkids have become quite good at hiking, camping, and backpacking. That is, after one of them got over thinking about hiking as just walking (and he didn’t see the point in that).

I’ve told the story of my own kids here a couple of times. My son was always likely to be a football player. He towered over kids his own age from an early age. Still does. And football is sort of the family thing. Before football though, he was into gymnastics, baseball, basketball, and soccer.

I always thought my daughter would end up as a basketball player. She loved softball too. But then she discovered volleyball as a high school sophomore and that was it. That was her sport.

My point is this: It is not necessary to pick a sport early and stick to it. No…I’ll correct that: It is a huge mistake to pick a sport early and stick to it.

Travel ball for six year olds? I’m strongly against it. Position coaches and personal trainers at 10? Ridiculous. You think your kid is the next star quarterback? And he’s 8? There’s no way you can know that.

Let them play everything. Make sure it is fun for them. It is important for them to have some success at whatever they are doing—that’s what builds a passion for a game. But for younger kids, it is not important at all to win championships and go undefeated.

Let them be on a team so they learn teamwork. Let them be coached by someone other than yourself so that they learn how to be coachable. If the coach doesn’t recognize their extraordinary talent and keeps them on the bench, don’t blame the coach. Help your kid to get better. It will all work out in the long run.

Help them find their way, not yours. Open doors for them but don’t drag them through that door. Sometimes you don’t even need to hold their hand when they walk through that door. Let them be a part of the world so that they learn how to deal with the world.

Give them opportunities and they will find their way. Give them experiences that are positive and promote movement and they will seek that path.

Role Models

I took my youngest granddaughter to a soccer game recently. It was the MHS Lady Rebels Sub-State game against Science Hill that they won 3-0, qualifying them for the State Tournament.

This is the second time she’s joined me on the sidelines of a soccer game. She loves soccer. She watches the game closely. She’s 7 and just decided to quit ballet to spend more time on soccer. But this isn’t a story about the soccer game. This story is about role models.

Before the game, at the playing of the National Anthem, the MHS soccer team stood at attention, with their right hand over their heart and their left hand behind their back. My granddaughter and I stood too, facing the flag with our right hand over our hearts. I saw my granddaughter look at the line of girls in front of her, all of them with their left arm held behind their back. Slowly, she did the same.

I didn’t want to disrespect the National Anthem but I knew I had to have a photograph of that. I snuck my phone out and almost without looking, took a snapshot of the scene before me. I had no idea if it was any good at all until I looked later.

Oh. My. Goodness. It’s true that a picture is worth a thousand words. This one spoke volumes, at least to me. These high school girls are role models, sometimes when they least expect it.

You never know what little person is looking at you, not just learning how to play a game but also how to behave, how to talk, how to walk, even how to stand attention at the playing of our National Anthem.

The granddaughter has a special affection for Lady Rebel Emma Rice. She took a few private soccer lessons from Emma this fall. I’ve known Emma for a while now and I can tell you that there is no one out there that I would prefer over Emma to teach her how to play soccer and be a teenager.

Emma gets it. She is passionate about the game and is always giving 100% but she also seems to have a good grasp on what it’s really all about. Same thing for Karly Wolford. I’ve watched Karly over the last couple of years and she is one of my all-time favorites. She’s a triplet with two brothers and she loves those brothers beyond measure.

Abbie Kolarik is one of those Lady Rebels that I’ve known most of her life. Always polite, she moves with grace and style and I can think of no one that I would prefer my grandchildren emulate than her. I saw Grace Oliver once handle what could have been awkward social situation with maturity and…well…grace.

So here’s the thing…you may not know it, but somewhere, sometime, little eyes are watching you. You are a role model for somebody.

If you find it difficult to always be on your best behavior, to always be polite, to never use language that you wouldn’t want everyone to hear, to always be the best version of yourself, then maybe it makes your life harder.

If you want to be a positive influence on those around you, if you aspire to always make good decisions, then accepting the concept that you are a role model for someone can make life easier.

This role model thing is either an opportunity or a burden. But good or bad, never forget that someone is watching you, wanting to be you.

The Job of the Athletic Trainer

I can hear it now.  After the last four columns (where I wrote about various life lessons, maybe with a sports twist) my wife will have said somewhere along the way “those are all nice, but you need to write about sports and injuries and that sort of thing.”

Of course she’s right.  I guess when you get to a certain age, you want to philosophize a bit—share the lessons you’ve learned in a long life.  I most surely qualify.

I do believe there was meaning in those stories, maybe not so much about dealing with injuries but about life lessons that apply to sports.  I also believe the other side of that coin, that sports teach us life lessons as well.

But back to what I know best:  Dealing with your injuries.  Here’s what I know—to deal most successfully with injuries, you’ve got to know what you’re dealing with.  That’s where the importance of athletic trainers comes in.

When I came here in 1981 and put out my own shingle, I know I wanted to be in the arena of athletic health care.  I wanted to build my practice around it.  Other than the legendary Dr. Bob Haralson, there wasn’t much going on in the way of sports medicine around here.

That has most assuredly changed and the athletes of this area have benefitted from that.  There are athletic trainers and sports physical therapists everywhere around here.  I know that because I work with them.

Dedicated professionals who love kids and love sports.  Caring individuals who sacrifice huge amounts of time to take care of their athletes. 

So, if you don’t know what your injury is, seek professional help.  Don’t “walk it off.”  Don’t “shake it off.”  Don’t “toughen up.”  Get answers.  Get checked out.  You will get better quicker that way.  Athletic trainers take no joy in keeping you from playing your game.  Our job is to get you back out there as quickly as possible.

And we will do it within the framework of making sure that it is safe for you to return to play, that there are no short term or long term ramifications to your return.  We do not compromise on that. 

It used to be that we put ice on an injury for 24 hours and then switched to heat.  We now know better.  There really isn’t a place for heat in sports medicine.

Don’t be afraid of braces.  I’ve heard a thousand times that somebody didn’t want to wear an ankle brace because it made the ankle “weak.”  Huh-uh.  It doesn’t.  It just protects the ankle, maybe gives it a chance to heal.

I tape a lot of ankles but not much else.  A few wrists and fingers.  Tape on a knee or a shoulder is worthless.  Those colorful stripes that you see on shoulders and knees?  Mostly decoration.  Hardly worth the cost or effort.

Common sense also goes a long way in dealing with sports injuries.  If it doesn’t make sense, get it checked out.  If it lingers too long, find out why.

The job of the athletic trainer is to help you get exactly what you need, when you need, and get you back to your sport.

What I do Best

OK, so what’s the most common injury that we see? That’s easy. Ankle sprains.

You know the injury. The foot turns in and you hurt on the outside of the ankle. It happens all the time, either when you suddenly change directions or when you jump up and land on somebody’s foot. 

The treatment is the same—Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation (RICE). The sooner the better. Remember, you never “walk it off.”

              We see a lot of shoulder problems too. Those can be simple and can be complicated.  I spoke last week about the need to get a proper evaluation of injuries. That is never more true than when dealing with shoulder problems. 

              There are a lot of knee problems out there in athletics as well. Most of them, when treated correctly, won’t need surgery or months of rehab. Everyone is afraid of ACL injuries but fortunately they don’t happen that often. Younger athletes, particularly girls, are prone to problems with their kneecap (patella).  Most often it is a biomechanical issue and if those issues aren’t dealt with, relief will be temporary.

What’s the most difficult injury we deal with? That’s easy too. Concussions.

Concussions are also the scariest thing that we deal with on a regular basis. During our sports seasons, there is rarely a day that one of our athletic trainers doesn’t deal with a possible concussion.

And a concussion is something that we can’t be wrong about. Make a mistake and there is the potential to negatively impact someone’s life. That’s why we’re ultra-conservative when we suspect a concussion. That’s why if there’s any doubt about it, the game is over for that athlete.

That’s also why an athlete has to go through a whole battery of tests before returning to sports after a concussion. We simply cannot make a mistake.

It’s definitely frustrating for an athlete that has had a concussion who feels fine and cannot understand why they still can’t return to their sport. We have to make sure that the brain is fully healed before allowing sports participation. 

If the brain is still healing, it is far more fragile. The 2^nd Concussion Syndrome is very real. Have a concussion on top of a concussion and the impact can be much, much more severe.

I know concussions on a first name basis. Not only do I deal with them professionally, I had what I now know was a pretty serious concussion in high school football. 

It was 1970 and I remember arriving at our opponent’s field and I remember lining up across from their best player. And that’s it. That’s all I remember. The next thing I know, we’re back home in our own locker room.

I played the entire game, on both sides of the ball, and remember nothing about it. On film, it looks like that all-state player slapped me in the head one time and maybe that was it but I have no memory of any of it.

It turned out OK.  I don’t think I suffered any long term effects from it, but in hindsight, it is a bit scary. My brain was injured and yet I continued to play. 

I don’t want to let a fear of injury and especially of concussions keep you from allowing your child to play sports. I think that’s a huge mistake. I honestly believe that some of our best life lessons come from our playing fields. 

But I do believe that we owe it to ourselves and to our children to be smart about it.  And that means seeking trained professionals to make those decisions with you.

I Had a Dream

I Had A Dream

With all due to respect to one of the greatest speeches ever given (Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech), I want to offer a glimpse of my dreams. Maybe it’s selfish. Maybe it’s bragging. Maybe you can learn something from it.

My story is humble. I probably had no right to dream but that didn’t stop me. I dreamed of a life and a world that was very different from how and where I grew up. From an early age, I dreamed of changing the world.

The first thing I can remember is the dream of being a Boy Scout. That started with my Den Mother Mrs. Patton and was fostered by really great Boy Scout leaders. I loved everything about it and grew leadership skills there that are still with me.

I dreamed of playing football. I loved everything about it. The teammates, the practices, the games, the helmets, the hitting. My high school football coach remains one of the greatest influences ever on who I became as a man.

I always wanted to have good friends that I could depend on. I’ve had a bunch of them. Even though we don’t talk often, I remain somehow cosmically connected to my best friend from childhood, Ronnie McNabb.

I dreamed of being married. It hasn’t always been easy and anybody that tells you that it will always be easy is lying but it has been worth it and now it is both easy and perfect.

I dreamed of finding a job where I was of value, a career that I enjoyed. Growing up, very few from my hometown went to college. Dreaming big was not really part of the culture. I remember all too well being told by a high school teacher that “people like you don’t go to college.”

But I was always going to college. My parents didn’t allow me to even consider anything else. They both worked in local factories, which was what most of my high school classmates did after graduation.

How I stumbled into this one must be the result of divine intervention. Nobody could be so lucky. Every time someone turns to me for help with their physical well-being, I know I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing. And when a parent tells me that they feel better because their child is in my hands, well…it doesn’t get any better than that.

I dreamed of having children. I dreamed that those children would become successful adults. I really hit the jackpot on that. And then they brought me grandchildren which may be the greatest blessing a senior citizen could ever have. 

I dreamed of staying healthy and being healthy into old age. You’ve heard that story many times, as it relates to my dad’s heart problems. From an early age, I took ownership on that one. A lot of what I do today is my effort to sustain that dream.

I never wanted fancy cars or expensive clothes.  Jeans and t-shirts have always been more my style. I never dreamed that I would write a newspaper column for 33 years that people would actually read.  I know every English teach I ever had would find that thought pretty funny (or ridiculous…or both). 

I never dreamed that I would get to walk on the sidelines of championship football teams year after year. I never dreamed that I would be embraced by a community like I have by this one, where I have lived my dreams for 40 years. Thank you.

Purpose in Life

What is your purpose in life?  What were you put on earth to do?  I’ve seen young folks that seem to have figured that out.  I’ve seen old folks still looking for it. 

I believe we have a responsibility to change the world.  We have an obligation to make the world a better place, to leave it better than we found it.

We adopted two kittens not long ago.  I’m not a cat person.  Never have been.  Not too long ago, I wrote about that “one great dog” that everyone should have.  But my wife wanted a couple of cats and I really like to make my wife happy so we headed to the Animal Shelter with all six grandkids in tow. 

We wanted cat siblings.  And girls.  So we made our choices and left with Ariel and Batman (yeah…I know…not the name for a female cat—such is the influence of grandchildren). Well folks, I fell in love with them immediately.  It didn’t take long until they had wrapped me around their little paws. 

Last week, I came across a meme with a photo of a kitten sitting alone by a curb with the caption “he will never change the world but he will change the people who find him.”  An abandoned kitten, changing somebody’s world.  Imagine that.

Maybe that’s what our life should be about.  Maybe that’s what I’m talking about.  I was one of those people that wanted to change the world.  You know the list.  Feed the hungry.  Heal the sick.  Rescue the lost.

I had big dreams about being the greatest physical therapist ever and the greatest dad that ever lived.  We would live an active life and be responsible to the planet.  I would be an upstanding guy, a role model, and would treat everyone with respect and dignity. 

I would make the world a better place to live and grow my own vegetables and raise my babies in love and harmony, gently molding them into good people.  Maybe I’ve done some of that but at times I’ve failed miserably in all of that.  I’ve had some great opportunities and have led an interesting life but the world I’ve been able to change has never gone much beyond my reach.

As we get older, our world shrinks.  Our family grows and there are bills to pay and our priorities change.  Oh, for some of us, those lofty dreams stay alive and some do go on and change the big huge worlds.

But at some point, we all have to decide what world it is that we want to change.  Maybe your world is your family.  You want them to have things that you didn’t.  Or at least have the life that you always wanted.

Maybe your world is your job.  You want to make a difference through your work.  I get that.  Maybe your world is your town.  You want to make a difference so you run for local political office.  I admire that.  Maybe you continue to pursue those huge dreams and hopefully no one told you that you couldn’t do that.  

If you can’t change the whole world, you can always change your world.  From the governor’s mansion to the changing table, all our worlds are important.  And like that lost kitten on the curb, you can always change somebody’s world.  Isn’t that what it’s all about?

Chronic Pain & The Opioid Crisis

I just found out I was one of “those people.” You might know one of them. Those people with chronic pain. People who may have fallen into opioid addiction because of that chronic pain.

I never thought that I was someone that had chronic pain until listening to my friend Karen Litzy’s podcast on the subject. Let me back up. From the time I was a teenager until about the time I turned 45, I had migraines.

Throbbing, unremitting migraines. Keep you up all night migraines. When I ask patients what their pain level is on a scale of 0 to 10, I sometimes think about those nights when I was a 10 out of 10.

I tried everything to try and control my headaches. Nothing much worked. I saw a neurologist. I had all kinds of tests. I tried a lot of different treatments. Nothing. I had no choice but to keep going. I had responsibilities. I finally found a formula that seemed to keep my headaches somewhat manageable—hot showers and lots of Excedrin.

Most of my headaches arrived in the middle of the night. My routine was to eat something (with all the Excedrin I was taking, my stomach was always irritated), take two Excedrin, and jump in the shower, turning the water on as hot as I could stand. There were many nights when my wife would hear me in the shower at maybe 2 AM. There were lots of nights when I would empty the hot water heater. The hot shower was my best relief. After the shower I would take two more and try to go back to sleep.

Through the years, I tried all kinds of medications. One seemed to work but then I discovered it was based on a barbiturate and so I quit taking it. Excedrin became my drug of choice. I always had several Excedrin in the pocket of my pants. Always. When I was having the worst of those headaches, I remember thinking that I would do or take anything to get away from that pain. Anything.

Those around me didn’t understand. Chronic pain is largely invisible. I would look fine but my head would be pounding. I was told just to suck it up and keep going. Mostly I did. There were days when I would sit in a dark office until someone on my staff came to get me to see a patient. Then it was right back in the dark room.

At 45, something happened. Maybe it was male menopause. I have no idea. For the next 10 years, I rarely had a headache. At 55, they came back but not nearly as bad or as frequent. I still occasionally have to take an Excedrin but I don’t have to carry them in my pocket all the time. I can live with what I’ve got now.

But here’s my point: Pain can get so bad that you will take anything to make it go away. You’ve got a problem and there’s a pill that takes it away? You will take that pill. You may continue to take that pill if the pain continues.

Our country is in the midst of an opioid epidemic. We must do something. We must take ownership of our chronic pain. We must actively pursue control of our own condition.

Addiction is real and requires long term intervention. For many chronic pain conditions, my profession, physical therapy, is an effective non-pharmaceutical option but with copays and deductibles PT can be quite expensive. It’s a whole lot easier to simply take a pill than to exercise and work to get better.

I managed to escape that trap with my headaches but I’ll never know if I was lucky or strong. Just remember this—it can happen to anybody. Those opioid addicts can be your neighbors, your friends, your family.

Turn off the TV

I happen to believe that sports are an essential component to a life well lived. A lot of that means participating in sports but we also get a lot of pleasure in being spectators. Sometimes that’s all we can do. I’ll never ride in the Tour de France but I like to watch it and keep up with it. 

Keeping up with sports and the game of the week is OK but don’t let it get in the way of your pursuit of good health and an active lifestyle. This week, a new friend told me about the banner in the gym where he works out. “Your health is not everything but without your health, everything is nothing.”

I get that. I preach that sermon all the time. I’ve been chasing good health all my life. You may have heard the story. My dad had his first heart attack and 45 and that determined my outlook on the pursuit of good health. 

You’re finding all this in the Sports Pages for two reasons. One, the good folks at The Daily Times give me a lot of latitude in what I write about. I generally avoid religion and politics but if you read closely there might be an undercurrent of both in what I write about.

The other big reason is that I believe that active individuals are healthier individuals. And my job, if it is anything, is about helping folks be healthier. So I often talk about what it takes to be healthier.

Like eat better. Exercise daily. Stretch. See your Primary Care Physician for an annual physical. Follow up on your physical needs. Find health care providers that you can trust and then do what they ask you to do. Do what you know you should do. All the time. Not part of the time. 

Active kids become active adults. Oh, there is an occasional adult that discovers physical activity later in life. But it’s sort of like an insurance policy—if you want your kids to become active, healthy adults then you help them to be active children. Why would you want anything else for them?

That means turning off the TV. That means limiting their time on electronic devices. That little computer thingie that they sit and stare out for way too long (and in a neck posture that gives me the heebie jeebies)? Turn it off. Or at least limit the amount of time they’re staring at that thing every day.

But here’s the hard part:  You just can’t send them outside and say “go play.” You’ve got to do it with them. And you’ve got to be a good role model so that means that you’ve got to live an active lifestyle yourself. 

Look at it this way…you want to be your own kid’s role model. Why would you pass that job off to someone else? I’m not talking about creating little Joe’s and little Jennifer’s that are just like you. I’m talking about living good, healthy lives. Free of the health problems that come from a sedentary lifestyle. 

But if you eat garbage all the time, your child is going to eat garbage and will probably continue to eat garbage their whole life. If you sit in front of a TV for hours on end, don’t be surprised when they stare at a computer screen just as long. 

It is your responsibility as a parent to be a role model for your own children about living a healthy lifestyle. Show them the way. You may not accept the role but it belongs to you anyway. The old saying “do as I say do, don’t do as I do” doesn’t work. Never did. 

We have an obesity epidemic in this country today. And especially in our state. Tennessee has the most childhood obesity in America. 38% of our kids are obese or significantly overweight. There are a lot of proposed solutions out there but the only thing that will really work is for their parents to take ownership of that problem.

In other words, it starts with you. 

An Interview with joeblack

I love interviews. Always have. I love the tough questions, the banter, the back and forth. I love the insight that comes from answering questions that you didn’t see coming.

In the 32+ years I’ve been writing this column, I’ve actually used this space to have a couple of interviews. I’m going to do that again today. But with myself in both roles. Just a fun little bit of creative thinking. So here goes.

What did you have for breakfast today?

Really? That’s the best you can do? Same as always. Scrambled eggs. Almond flour pancakes with maple syrup. Chocolate almond milk. If it were Sunday, it would include Benton’s bacon. Always.

So what does 65 feel like? 

I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure it out. I know that it sure doesn’t feel like I thought 65 would feel like. 

Mountain or beach?

Do I have to decide? I guess it would have to be the mountains but I don’t want to live in a world that doesn’t have beaches.

What are some of your fondest memories?

Growing up in a place where I could get up on a summer morning, hop on my bike, and not be expected home until dinner time. Boy Scouts. Getting married. Finding my career. Having kids. Watching those kids grow up. Grandkids. And then there was high school football.  One of the best things I've ever done.  Playing with kids that I grew up with.  Coming together as a team.  Winning a championship. 

Did you learn anything from that?

Oh yeah. I learned that if you work hard at something, you can achieve it. I learned the value of being physically and mentally prepared so that you can take on anything. I learned the joy of physical exertion and the satisfaction of putting everything you have into something bigger than yourself.

What’s the biggest mistake you ever made?

I don’t really agonize over mistakes I’ve made. I actually embrace most of them. Now don’t get me wrong-I’ve made plenty of mistakes. Lots, actually.  (Some I’ll never admit.) But the person that I am today is in large part because of those mistakes. Most of the time I learned from those mistakes and even when I didn’t, they’re still responsible for helping me become who I am. And I’m pretty OK with that. 

But surely you would change something about your life. 

Oh for sure. The people I’ve hurt. I wish I hadn’t done that. Some opportunities I’ve missed. I wish I had become kinder and gentler earlier in my life. I wish I had been a better husband and father. I was too busy trying to figure out who I was back then. I wish I had learned to leave my comfort zone behind a long time ago. 

So what’s next for you?

More adventures. More getting outside that comfort zone. More time with my wife. Ride a bike.  I want to teach my grandchildren how to play tennis. And how to love unconditionally.

When are you going to retire?

I get that question about ten times a day. I’m not retiring any time soon. I’m having too much fun. 

Living Life Robustly

I got a lot of comments about last week’s column.  Most people were a bit amazed that a man of my age was still doing things like that—riding a mountain bike down steep hills over rocks and roots and traveling around the country doing things outside my comfort zone.  Others just thought I was crazy. 

The first group shouldn’t have been amazed—there were 10 year old kids passing me down the gnarliest hills. And lots of people travel a lot more than I do. The second group…maybe you’re right.  Ask my wife.

So how did I get to this point in life?  To a point where I still pursue a life of vigor and adventure?  I have no idea.  I’ve talked about my dad’s heart problems but I don’t think that is it.  I know that I watched my friend Bo Henry turn his health around at 65, deciding to defy those birthdays and past health problems and live life to its fullest.  He’s almost 90 now and still pretty darn vigorous. 

I look around at people my age and a lot of them are already old.  They act old.  Their pursuits are passive.  Too many friends have those zipper lines on their chest where they’ve had their heart fixed.  I’ve got too many friends that look like they’re just waiting for the end.  Biding their time.

That sure ain’t me.  I get up every morning and make conscious decisions about what I’m going to do that day to remain healthy and able to continue a robust life. 

We know that to keep our mind sharp, we’ve got to continue to keep working it, keep learning new things.  Read books that make us think.   I still want to learn to speak Spanish.  Or French.  I can’t decide. 

I want to paint more, to put colors and meaning on a piece of canvas.  I’ve played several instruments in my life so I might do that again.  Why?  Because I can.  And we know that pursuing those things that stimulate us, that make us live vibrantly, keep us younger. 

Too many people get to a certain age and decide that it is time to slow down.  I call it “rocking chair time.”  That’s not for me.

 I’ve been accused of doing things that a “man my age” has no business doing.  Who made that rule?  Who said that when we get to a certain age, that there were certain activities that are off-limits?  That we have to retire from our job at a certain age?

The President of the United States is 72 years old.  One of the guys I ride bikes with is 68 and winning national championships.  Caroline Haynes is a world class tennis player at 81.

On the other end of the spectrum, two young physical therapists came to me several years ago asking for advice about leadership opportunities in our profession.  They had already been told that they were too young.  Well, those two young PT’s, Josh D’Angelo and Efosa Guobadia didn’t accept that. 

First, they started a campaign called PT Day of Service that quickly went global.  And then they opened a physical therapy clinic in Guatemala and are close to opening another in Rwanda. They are indeed changing the world.

My message?  Don’t let age determine anything.  You’re never too young nor too old.  For me, Medicare-eligible does not mean rocking chair-eligible.  I’m not really trying to prove anything, I’m just trying to live life to its fullest. 

Comfort Zone: Part 2

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about getting out of your Comfort Zone.  The gist of that one was that if you want to be a better athlete, you’ve got to get outside of your Comfort Zone, to do things that you don’t routinely do.  To push your personal limits. 

I think I also admitted that I pretty much live in my own personal Comfort Zone.  Home.  Job.  Bicycling.  I must tell you that I rarely get out of that Comfort Zone despite recommending it as necessary to avoid thinking the world revolves around you.

Well, I’m here to tell you that I’ve been outside of my Comfort Zone the past two weeks.  First, I was at a meeting in San Diego but then when the meeting was over, I was stuck in San Diego for 24 hours by myself.  My friends had all left.  Folks, I don’t do “alone” well at all. 

I’m not whining but it was way outside my Comfort Zone.   Being in a strange city without anyone that I knew and nothing to do—well that was definitely uncomfortable for me. 

The next day, I left to meet some buddies in Colorado to mountain bike for a week.   You probably know that I spend a lot of time on a road bike and am no stranger to mountain biking but I was with a group where everyone was a much better mountain biker than I am. 

I’m a nervous mountain biker.  I don’t want to wreck but inevitably do.  The first day I did a face plant and sported a spectacular shiner the rest of the week.  I was regularly pushing my physical limits, riding on hills that exceeded my abilities. 

But there is something rewarding about doing something that you don’t think you can do.  Flying down a hill on the back of a bicycle, barely under control, expands my capabilities.  By doing so, I find that I can exceed what I thought were my limits.  I can do more than I thought I could.

We went down a trail that was way beyond my biking abilities on the first day out.  We had ridden along the crest of a ridge at about 11,000 feet above sea level, pushing our physical abilities because folks, there isn’t much oxygen up there.  But it was gorgeous with views that seemed to extend to the end of the world.

But then we turned downhill on a trail called Green Creek and for the next 5 miles rode down a trail that mountain bikers call a rock garden.  Think cobblestones, irregular placed, lots bigger, with no real trail in sight.  I didn’t so much ride it as survive it.  But I did get better along the way. 

I also discovered that I could do this thing called a “Bike Park” where you ride a ski lift up to the top of a really big hill and then ride down that same hill.  Most folks wear body armor which I also found a bit daunting.  I mean, why do you need all those pads and a full-face helmet and all?  I didn’t really plan on wrecking so what was all that for? 

I was terrified.  Riding up the ski life I remember thinking “have you lost your mind?”  Then I discovered how much fun it was.  And I couldn’t get enough of it.  With each trip down, I got better.  I overcame that fear and turned it into a thrill.

That, in a nutshell, is why we have to get outside our Comfort Zone.  To do things that we didn’t think we could do and, in the process, learning more about ourselves. 

Opportunity or Burden?

I’m from that generation of people who grew up in the 60’s that were prone to question everything.  We questioned authority.  We doubted our parents.  And we protested the government (sometimes just for being the government).

It seems we were anti-everything.  Anti-war.  Anti-haircuts.  Anti-fashion.  Anti-establishment. 

Television wouldn’t show Elvis from the waist down because he wiggled to much.  George Carlin came up with his seven words you couldn’t say on TV.  James Dean led a cultural revolution. 

And then the Beatles appeared on the Ed Sullivan show and it really got crazy.  Everybody had long hair.  Everybody protested.  Everybody listened to loud music. 

I was the editor of our high school newspaper and pretty much every issue I snuck in something about the Vietnam War.  It got me called to the principal’s office a couple of times although today it was surely mild. 

The problem was that people that I knew were getting killed and, well, the war wasn’t real popular in my neighborhood.  Poor kids from rural areas got drafted and sent to the front.  Then as now, I was for the soldier but against the war.

Later I got picked up (not really arrested) at an event where we were protesting the completion of the dam on the Little Tennessee River, building what is now Tellico Lake.  I remember that tiny snail darter well.  I knew families that were being forced off farms that had been in their family for generations.

And a beautiful, free-flowing stream was being dammed up to build a resort community that was beyond the means of the people that lived there.  (If you can’t tell, I’m still bitter about that one.)

I was a good kid but I do remember one night when I was arguing with my dad about my music being too loud.  It probably was.  And that my hair was too long.  It really wasn’t. 

But one authority figure that I never questioned was my high school football coach.  His name is Bert “Chig” Ratledge and he turned 90 not too long ago.  He was Coach Ratledge then and he’s Coach Ratledge now.  I can recall hearing his friends call him by that nickname but I considered that blasphemy.

When I went to his 90^th birthday party and heard one (and only one) of my peers refer to him by his nickname, I was greatly disturbed.  Coach Ratledge earned my respect many times over.  He was one of the first people that truly believed in me.  And even though his health has declined, he is still the same person and I would still run through a brick wall for him.  Such is the influence that our coaches have over young folks. 

Coaches have a huge responsibility as they mold and direct their young charges.  Good ones acknowledge and accept that responsibility.  The best ones welcome it as an opportunity. 

For your own kids, seek those coaches that embrace the mantle of that responsibility.  Those coaches that have the best interest of your child and every child at heart.

Then step aside and let them do their job.

Be More than a Spectator

I haven’t watched much World Cup.  Well…none, really.  It’s not that I don’t find it interesting—I actually find it fascinating.

I mean, here’s a sport that is easily the number one sport in the world.  The most participants.  The most spectators.  There’s something special about it, not simply because the rest of the world is soccer crazy.  The international flavor and unabashed nationality make it quite a spectacle.

But I won’t be watching.  It really doesn’t have anything to do with the faked injures that seem to happen in every game (although the athletic trainer in me would be furious if I had an athlete that flopped like that and I ran on the field thinking the worst).  It’s just that it isn’t in me to sit and watch sports much.  Like almost never.  The Super Bowl?  Maybe.  The NBA finals?  Not this year.  The World Series?  It depends.

The Tour de France is going on right now and although I love everything about the bicycle, I won’t be watching much.  When Lance Armstrong was competing, I was glued to my TV set.  Not so much now.  Maybe it was the drugs and scandals and all that but it doesn’t hold quite the draw for me that it once did.  I would rather ride my bike than watch others do it. 

I guess I’m just not much of a spectator.  Never have been.  For many years, I watched my own kids play sports.  When they were younger, I was often their coach.  At first, I wanted to leave that to others.  But there was such a need and the other coaches were just dads like me (or moms) so I jumped right in.

It turned out to be quite rewarding.  I probably got more out of it than the kids.  I hope that I was fair to all and treated everyone equally.  Actually, I know that isn’t true.  I was harder on my own kids than I was on my own.  One embarrassing photo has me scowling at my daughter.  She was probably 8 or 9.  She didn’t deserve that.  She never did. 

I find myself watching grandkids now.  I am much more detached.  I take great joy in just watching them.  Not watching them win.  Not watching them score the winning goal.  Just watching them find joy in sport and movement.

At the youngest ages, the absolute most important thing about sports is that the kids learn to love to move.  The very best player at 6 is not necessarily the very best player at 16.  And we know without a doubt that early sports specialization is a very bad idea for a ton of reasons.

Early specialization increases the injury rate, increases the burnout, and hurts the development of their athleticism.  You want your kids playing lots of different sports.  Again, the emphasis should be on movement.  Active children become active adults.

As for me, I have always preferred to be in the game.  I love my time on the sidelines but I’m working then and part of the team.   I’m not sure what I will do when I do finally give it up.  I don’t think I can sit in the stands.

So where’s this going?  Just this—don’t be a spectator in life.  Don’t let your sports participation be watching the NFL on television.  You don’t have to play on a team or anything like that—just stay active.  Walk, jog, dance, ride a bike, paddle a canoe, something…anything.

Impossible is Nothing

I had the opportunity to speak to a group of physical therapy professionals last week at our national association’s annual meeting.  A friend and I had presented at the same meeting last year on “Finding Your Purpose in Life.”  Our follow-up to that one was this year’s “Impossible is Nothing.”

First, let me say that I don’t have all the answers.  I’m still asking questions.  I truly believe Proust’s advice to beware of the person that has found the Truth.  Instead, embrace the person that seeks the Truth.  I’m not talking about your religion—I won’t go there.  I’m talking about the other mysteries of life.

I have to say that I have lived a blessed life.  I never went hungry growing up.  There was always food of some kind on my table.  I always had a roof over my head.  I was able to attend college and marry a wonderful girl that still puts up with me after 42 years. 

I have a wonderful family, great friends, a job I love, and good health.  But I do know that my life has had its obstacles, many of which I have overcome. 

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about my dad’s heart condition.  What it meant to me growing up was that there weren’t a lot of things that I got to do with my dad.  And those things I could do were sedentary.  It was more like him watching me do things.

I remember arriving at high school and dreaming of playing football but being told that I wasn’t big enough or fast enough or athletic enough.  Later in high school, I was told by a teacher that “my kind” didn’t go to college.   And then the too-often repeated story of my high school guidance counselor who encouraged me to go to TV repairman school, despite being offered college scholarships.

The reality is that no one in my family had ever gone to college.  Other than one cousin, it took another generation for that to happen again.  And the obstacle of paying for college was very real for us. 

I was told I would never get into physical therapy school.   I changed majors half way through college and let’s just say that my academic performance at that point was well south of stellar. 

But I made it all work.  Just like today, I used dogged persistence to make myself a decent football player.  By dedicating myself to the classroom and studying like I had never studied before, I became a good student.  By working throughout college, at one time holding down three part-time jobs, I was able to graduate twice from college without debt. 

I was admitted to physical therapy school and I do believe I’ve done OK in my 40+ year career.

A friend of mine likes to say that “Obstacles are opportunities.”  Somebody tells you that you can’t?  Prove them wrong.  Use it as motivation.  Look for those Opportunities when faced with Obstacles. 

Too small, too slow, too big, not good enough?  Then examine yourself, decide what your weaknesses are, then turns those weaknesses into your strengths. 

Don’t let anyone define who you are or who you can become.  And don’t let your dreams be so small that you have no trouble achieving them.

No.  Dream big.  Change the world.  And don’t let anybody tell you that you can’t.

The Only One Stopping You Is You!

I’ve been doing a lot more mountain biking lately.  I’m mostly a road biker.  It’s easier and not as dependent on going somewhere to ride.  Out my back door are roads that are perfect.

But the mountain bike is calling to me these days.  Part of it is opportunity.  There are a lot more places to ride mountain bikes around here these days.  It used to be that the only place to ride was Haw Ridge (at the end of Pellissippi Parkway, near Oak Ridge).  It’s still there but there are lots better places to go now.

First among those is the area around Mead’s Quarry in south Knoxville.  The good folks there have built a super system of trails perfect for mountain biking.  And then there’s Baker Creek Preserve.  Oh my.

Baker Creek Preserve is attached to the trails system around Mead’s Quarry and is 100 acres of hills, valleys, and meadowlands.  And multi-use trails.  Built with a Recreation Trails grant from the State of Tennessee to Legacy Parks Foundation, it features something for everyone.  No motorized vehicles are allowed but some of the trails are great for hiking.

Near the entrance is a kids-only beginner bike loop, pump track, and play structures, so it’s the perfect place for a family outing.  The rest of the area is a playground for the older kids.  There are about 7 miles of trails in Baker Creek Preserve with trails ranging from beginner to expert.

And then there are the downhill trails.  Built with a grant awarded by the Bell Helmet company to the Appalachian Mountain Bike Club, these trails are mountain bike only and should only be ridden by experienced riders, properly equipped. 

Three trails take you quickly to the bottom of the hill with banked turns, lots of places to get air, and some special features that will take your breath away. 

Although I haven’t been in a while, there are good trail systems around I.C. King Park and Sharp’s Ridge.  Blount County doesn’t yet have a public-access mountain bike trail system but I would love to see that happen one day.

My message today isn’t as much about mountain biking as it is about living long and well. 

This week, I went mountain biking Dr. Ken Bell.  Dr. Bell is a retired orthopedic surgeon, having been in practice here since 1982.  He’s my mountain biking buddy and we’ve shared many miles of trails, near and far.

Dr. Bell is also an accomplished triathlete, having qualified three years ago for the world championship in the half-Ironman.  He completed his only (so far) Ironman Triathlon at age 65.

But here’s what got me started on all this--Dr. Bell is 68, I’ll soon be 65.  And here we were on the downhill section of a local trail, riding like teenagers, whooping and jumping and having the time of our lives.  I’ll readily admit that I couldn’t keep up with him but as we flew down that hill, it was fun trying.

At one point, we stopped on the side of the trail and talked about how blessed we were to be able to do this stuff and really speculated about how it was that we were still doing this at our advanced age.

We concluded that it was because we had pursued good health our entire lives.  That we stayed fit, kept our weight under control, and made good decisions about our diet and exercise.

Lest you think we’re anything special, Dr. Bell does this on an artificial hip and I take multiple medicines to try and keep my blood pressure under control and stay heart healthy.  I believe the biggest factor in our favor is that we never allowed anyone else to decide what was age-appropriate for us. 

So, should you head out and go careening down a hill on the back of a bike?  Probably not.  But you can hike in the mountains, paddle on the lakes, bike on the Townsend Bike Trail…the list is endless.   The only thing stopping you is you.

The Power of One

I just got back from a short trip to Washington, DC.  I was there to advocate on behalf of physical therapy on some issues that are affecting our patients and our ability to do our job.

I love our nation’s capitol.  I love the monuments and the buildings and the fact that Washington is the center of the government of the most powerful country that ever existed.  It is a really beautiful city.

Just Tuesday morning, I walked between the U.S. Capitol and the Supreme Court Building on my way to a meeting nearby.  Old Union Station was just around the corner.  What a place it must have been when trains were how people moved around the country.

If you’ve never watched the Changing of the Guard at Arlington National Cemetery, then you need to add that to your bucket list.  Watch it and then read about it.

I’ve visited the Vietnam War Memorial and looked for the name of people that I once knew that had died in Vietnam.  It is a somber place, more like a black gash in the National Mall.

This is one of the few trips ever that I didn’t visit Lincoln Memorial.  I love to sit on the steps and talk to Abe about the world he left us and ask him what we need to do.

And the museums. Oh my.  You can spend a week in the museums.  And you can view the actual Constitution of the United States.  You can see all those signatures that you’ve read about.

On a previous trip I visited the Holocaust Museum.  That one was chilling.  A room full of shoes taken from children that were murdered.  You can’t believe it until you see it.  The tools that were used.  You cannot walk away unchanged.

This trip didn’t allow any side trips.  I was there on business.  A bill before congress that would help students deal with the overwhelming cost of higher education.  Legislation to improve access to physical therapy services.  Helping with the opioid crisis.

Now before you think I’ve lost my mind for thinking that I can make a difference, let me tell you a little story. 

In 2007, physical therapists were involved with the state legislature trying to get a bill through in Tennessee that would allow someone to see a physical therapist without a physician referral.  Good, common sense legislation.

The bill was stuck in the House Health Committee mainly because the Chair of that Committee didn’t want to see it pass.  Such is politics. 

Here’s the scenario:  Each week, several of us would travel to Nashville to testify before the Health Committee and each week the Committee Chair would drop us to the bottom of the agenda, which was his prerogative.  This went on for several weeks.

But ONE legislator (who happened to be from the same party as the Committee Chair) who had been treated by ONE physical therapist spoke up on our behalf.  She asked that our bill not be pushed to the bottom once again. 

Her request came to a vote.  The Committee agreed.  That Committee then voted to allow the bill to move on.  It went to the House of Representatives next where it was swiftly passed.

ONE person influenced ONE legislator and now you can see a physical therapist when you need to.

Never underestimate the power of ONE.   The only way we ever get anything done is for someONE to step forward with an idea, a plan, a better way.  That person can be you.  Or me.