Birth of the Storm

I am training for a half marathon.  I've never trained for anything in my life.  I am clearly excited about reaching this goal to finish without stopping because I often share my thoughts and experiences about it.

This post is no different.

During a particularly enjoyable short run tonight, I enjoyed a perfect temperature, a comfortable pace, the realization of how far I've come and how improved my endurance has become as well as the smoothness of the motion.

My playlist was also hitting the mark with a nice variety of songs that normally don't shuffle on during my runs.

One song, "How You Like Me Now" by The Heavy took me back to a distant memory.

I started reminiscing about when I hooped in Cleveland.  It is a story many have heard before.

I was heckled up and down the court.  It was bad. Real bad.

For whatever reason, I kept going.  That's how bad I wanted to play and no trash talk was going to keep me away.

But I never said a word back.  It wasn't my neighborhood.  It wasn't my place.

To be frank, I was the only white guy there and the trash I heard was because I was white and not from there.

Whatever.

Back to the story, I never never got the ball.  Nobody guarded me but that was mostly because nobody guarded anyone. The only time I got touches was when I mixed it up and rebounded.

Whatever.

Finally, one time it got to me.  Maybe the losing was getting to me.  It was a long time ago, I can't really remember details.  Mostly visions.

And words.

The only words I said......."GIVE ME THE DAMN BALL!"

I was alone in the corner.  I can see it now.  The look on the kid's face.  Almost in mockery.  It was as if he said, "you talking to me? YOU want the damn ball?  You?  Alright then, shoot."

So I made it rain.

I looked him in the eye (or so I like to think.  I probably looked to the ground) and pointed to him for his dime and turned to run back.

Silent.

The Storm was born.

After that I received the ball more often.  I dropped more bombs. The heckles and jabs slowly morphed into chants of "BIRD!!"  The most recognized white baller at the time.

I remained silent.  It was more fun to smile and soak it in.

Soon my buddy joined me and he quickly earned the tag of Paxson and other names.  Ehlo. Stockton. The list goes on and I bet he remembers better than I do.  We made a good team though.  I was happy to have some one to share that with from my "neighborhood."

Later, I would have similar stories. Staff vs student basketball games that were way more competitive than one would think.  Middle school kids are bigger and better than you'd assume them to be these days.  At least they were at the school I taught in which was coincidentally in the same neighborhood where I rained threes in high school.

Nobody gave me the ball.  Grown adults.  Still, I couldn't get a look, still heckled by my students in the stands.

Then I hit that one three.  My only shot.  Crowd erupted.

All I did was smile.

When I returned to Columbus, I played in a league with my school among teachers from other schools. Again, super competitive for a bunch of out of shape, gym class heroes.

This time, I got the ball.  And still, it rained.  It poured.

I told the stories of my youth and a fellow teacher donned the name, "The Silent Storm."

"Mr. Huey don't say a lot.  But when he shoots....he makes it rain."

I love it.  How You Like Me Now?

Angry Meditation, Track Record and The Kid

I question if there are more than two maybe three people that read this blog regularly and one of them is my mother.  Not that she doesn't count, but c'mon.  Mom's are supposed to be your biggest fan.  Good ones anyway and since mine is one of the good ones, there ya go.

But among those two or three readers, you'll notice that this post will mirror my blog as a whole.  It really isn't one "thing" or subject, but more of a series of random thoughts or subjects taking up space in my head.

It truly is a public "diary of lost in between."  

I have three thoughts or reflections to share with you and I hope the three of you find it interesting.  Please show me some attention and respond with your thoughts or feelings or personal takes on them even if you disagree.

Angry Mediation

This summer, I was a mental headcase.  If I wasn't moving on form it, I would still be searching for reasons why.  I struggled to find peace and I felt miserable.  Without a particular reason or event to point to and say, "That.  That is why I feel like crap," I fell deeper in a confused, angry state and even felt hopeless and helpless.

Very dramatic, I know.  I'm trying to paint a picture here so go with me.

One strategy I tried to help was meditation.  I would find time to be alone and work on separating myself from everything.  I was trying t release the anger.

There was success.  But it was temporary.

It was very difficult though to keep the anger out.  From what I understand, when it comes to meditation, it isn't something you work at.  It just happens.  

I could be wrong.  

I know it didn't feel right most of the time.  The anger consumed me.  I was immersed in it,

The success came once I found music.  I came across a song I would listen to in college.  No words.  It was a long 8 minutes or so but it was an effective tool to take me to a positive place.  The sound, rhythm, beat and so on was soothing,

So I used this song intentionally.  I focused on positive visions like swings at a park. 

I may have shared this already, but I love swings.  Always have.  My kids love swings.  The steady back and forth provide a rhythm and peace.  I then go to the top of a roller coaster at Cedar Point.  Another place that holds plenty of positive memories and vibes for me.

The whole time this song plays.

I share this because I think I may have left that angry place I was this summer.  Again, no known reason why.  I'm working on it.  But I haven't figured out the origin of any of this.  I may not figure it out.

But the song returned tonight.  As I ran, the playlist shuffle came across the song.  Running has served as a stress relief, spiritual experience and more so it was a perfect time to get back on the swing and the top of the first hill on the Millennium or Magnum at Cedar Point.

But this time I didn't need to force out feelings.  This time I could let the feelings be.

Track Record

As mentioned above, I was not in a great place this summer in the head.  When this happens, I slip into a pathetic pattern of self-pity.  My wife is good at setting me straight, often to my dismay (sometimes you need to vent and cleanse the pity, I swear you do).

Again, a behavior I am working on.  But the work I have decided to do, since I keep claiming to be a "realist" and one who doesn't ignore the negative if it is there, is look back on my life and find true instances where I have proven my worth.

In this case, I was reflecting on my track record of improvement.  So in an exercise to focus on these positive, anti-pity thoughts, I'll share with my three readers and maybe hear some of your examples.

This is my second time around as a husband.  I wasn't a good one the first time.  Obviously.  I have proven that I can be a better husband.  Trust me.  We've had a bunch thrown at us and here we stand.

I'm a better Dad.  Full disclosure.  I have some issues that still need major improvement.  My patience is embarrassing.  I need to give more attention.  I'm not the strictest disciplinarian and I don't instill a nutritious enough value in their diets. I'm often lazy.

Wait.  This was supposed to be positive.  That quickly spiraled into another pity party. 

I have plenty of things to work on which excites me.  Another post for the future! "How I became a better Dad...Again."

I'm better than I once was at parenting.

When I played baseball back in high school, I couldn't make contact with the ball let alone get a hit. I went to the batting cages in Euclid every night.  EVERY.  NIGHT.

The second half of the year I hit .600.  Of course, the first half was so bad, my season ending average was only .291 if I remember right, which sucks in city league baseball.

Improvement.

Back in college my roommate and I played a good bit of tennis.  He destroyed me every time.  To this day I have yet to beat him.  In fact I am not sure I have even won a game let alone a set. Or a match.  

Side Note:  Same roommate beat me in racquetball AS I TAUGHT HIM HOW TO PLAY with a class under my belt!!!!!!

Improvement? Later my brother and his roommate, a friend from back home, played doubles with us and my serve was killer.  I was clearly way better than the days I played with my brother growing up.

Improvement.

I was always an average to below average straight ball bowler. Maybe a 120 pin average.  Maybe. After several years of league bowling?  160 average and a number of 200+ games.

Improvement.  In fact, measurable improvement: 40 pins. 30% increase.

Soccer All Star after years of playing.

Improvement.

When I entered teaching, I could barely keep a class of middle schoolers in their seats.  Now I can hush a lunchroom full of students to silence with a tap of the microphone.

Improvement.

My students' test scores when I entered teacher were sub 20%. When I left that school they were in the 60%s.

Improvement.

Now 70%-80% are passing and most of them barely speak English.

Improvement.

Just last spring I huffed and puffed through my first 5k.  Jumped for joy that I just finished without stopping.  This year every race was under 30 minutes and one was 27:05.

Improvement.

I'm currently improving as we speak as I grow closer and closer to that half-marathon.

Improvement.

I went years, maybe a decade without reading a book.  Several years ago, I made a New Year's resolution to read and write more. This blog was born and I have lost count of the books I read since. I even started a Facebook group for fellow readers to share my reading.

Improvement.

Proof there is no reason I can't improve that mental black hole that was this summer.  Or improve anything for that matter.

The Kid

I mentioned not long ago that I set a goal to increase the positive experiences with my daughter.  I felt there were too many negative moments.  Negative in that I had to discipline or respond to negative behavior.  Not anything major or scary, but a run of normal parenting moments that aren't fun for either parent or child.  It was just a long stretch and it was bothering me.

Success.  What a great week.  The positive has snowballed and I see her responding and legitimately altering her behavior independently from what she wants to do to what she should do.  I'm proud of her.

Now I am trying to do the same with my other child who I also feel has received too much negative Daddy interaction and not enough happy Daddy experience.  Again, nothing scary or major.  Normal toddler stuff.  But too much intervention.  I hope to repeat the success I found with my oldest.

Good night, readers.  Would love to hear from you, particularly regarding your meditation or prayer practices.