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.

Life's Failures

First, for the record, let me state that I have made plenty of mistakes. Plenty.  Some I remember and others I have worked hard to forget. 

Last week I was talking to a group of physical therapy students from across the state.  At the end of one talk, I opened the floor for questions.  I had been talking about mentorship and how to build a career.  One student asked me “what failures have you learned from in your career?”

Interesting question.  I don’t really think I’ve failed at anything.  Oh, there are some things that I’ve set out to do that I didn’t accomplish.  I don’t think I failed at those. 

At this point, it is necessary to switch to a non-gratuitous sports analogy.  I didn’t fail.  Time just ran out. 

Not every team can go undefeated.  Every year.  It just doesn’t work that way.  Some of the greatest dynasties in sports with some of the longest win streaks eventually did lose. 

I’m not going to say that “it doesn’t matter whether you win or lose but how you play the game.”  That’s not the way I’m wired.  I never played a game of any kind when the outcome didn’t matter to me. 

All those parents that have kids playing in games where they don’t keep score—they are silently keeping score.  And if they’re not, their kids are.

Keeping score gives our games structure.  And having a winner in every game teaches us lessons that hopefully extend way beyond sports.  That maybe we need to work harder.  Prepare better. 

I hate the term “loser.”  When you think of that word, all sorts of images enter your head, none of them good. 

It ignores the valiant effort that fell just short.  It betrays the athlete that gave it everything they had but couldn’t vanquish a superior opponent.

The lessons we learn from sports reach WAY beyond the games themselves.  We need the games to measure how we’re doing but the lessons don’t start there; they start on the practice field and in the gym. 

Those lessons start in the weight room and running on the track.  They exist in doing something that you don’t think you can do.  Of pushing yourself physically until you can’t do any more (but maybe reach down and find that little more). 

I was going to open a downtown restaurant one time.  I got cold feet about the economy and didn’t do it.  Sullivan’s is there now.  A failure?  Not really.  My family is rather glad I’m not in the restaurant business.  I’m gone enough as it is.

I opened a hospital equipment store once long ago.  It didn’t do so great so I sold it.  A failure?  Maybe.

The bottom line is that the mistakes that I’ve made, the failures (OK, I’ll agree to that term) that I’ve had, have led me to where I am today.  Have made me the person that I am today.

And I have to be OK with that.  Without those mistakes, without those failures, maybe I wouldn’t be who I am today.

I am happy with my life.  Great wife of almost 42 years.  Great kids.  Greater grandkids.  Great friends.  Good health.  Fun hobbies.  The chance to do what I love and get paid for it.  Yeah, I’m in a pretty good place. 

If You See Me Taking The Elevator Down One Flight Of Stairs, Slap Me On The Back Of The Head

I’ve always been pretty harsh with people that sport handicapped tags on their vehicle yet don’t appear to be handicapped.  I know that a lot of handicaps aren’t really visible and I try and understand that. 

I also know of a fellow that not too long ago bragged to me that he was able to finally snag one of those handicapped tags that hang from the mirror, allowing him to park in those prime parking spots.  Without violating federal laws, I can tell you that the only handicap that this guy has is laziness.

So when I see someone with a real handicap, maybe they’re in a wheelchair, and the parking spots are all occupied with cars bearing those hanging tags…well…I just question the fairness of it all.  

I recently gained some appreciation for the dilemma though.  Let me step back a bit.  I had my first knee surgery as a teenager.  I’ve had several more since then.  My right knee is pretty well shot.  If you catch me running, you better run too because something big and bad is chasing me.

My coaches try to be kind about it all.  When one of my football players is injured and I try and run onto the football field, I’m sure there are folks wondering if I’m going to make it or not. It is U-G-L-Y. 

The coaching staff has even been known to tease me about having it all on video.  Maybe that they are concerned that the athlete might expire before I get there.  That my 40 time is measured on a calendar.

I’ve seriously considered keeping my bicycle on the sidelines to make the trip quicker. (I can still move pretty good on a bicycle.)  The good folks at Ortho Tennessee-Maryville (formerly Maryville Orthopedic Clinic) are going to get to know me on an all new level some day.  That total knee replacement is looming.

Most days I deal with it fine.  My weight is good and my core strength is too, factors which keep my knee pain under control.  Most of the time.  I am well acquainted with Vitamin I (Ibuprofen).

I can hike pretty well.  Actually, I can go uphill quite well.  Downhill, eh, that’s another matter.  Without hiking poles, I might not make it downhill.

But recently, my right knee has taken a turn for the worse.  Maybe that knee replacement is gonna happen sooner than I planned.  There are days when even walking is ugly.  So back to my story.

I sometimes have to attend meetings at the hospital in the middle of the day.  And a lot of those days, the only parking spot is quite some distance away.  I’ve learned to build extra time into getting to those meetings.

I’m pretty sure that somebody could look at X-Rays of my knee and decide I was worthy of one of those handicapped parking tags.  If you are old enough, you might say I walk like Chester (if you know, you know).

Anyway, I’m not going to let a little knee pain make me do something selfish like get a handicapped parking tag.  There are just too many people that truly deserve that privilege.  People in wheelchairs.  People on crutches.  People that need that space.  Not me.

I’m going to continue to park on the far side of the parking lot.  I’m going to continue taking the stairs whenever I can.  And if you ever catch me taking the elevator down one flight of stairs, feel free to come up and smack me on the back of the head.

But that’s just the way I am.