iRun

This time of year marks an anniversary of sorts for me. It was about two years ago that I became a runner. It was not so much out of a yearning desire to push my body to the point that everything hurts but more a matter of not wanting to have to shop at Northern Reflections.

My progression towards XL Nate was slow and gradual as most can attest to. The weight gain creeps up on you. Sure their were spurts of consistency at the gym, but they were too often offset by greater periods of consistency on the couch. Couple that with a lack of proper rehab from surgeries to both my elbow and shoulder and the number on the scale read more like my career batting average (also bad). It was the fall of 2008 that I had booked surgery #3 for my shoulder and knew that if things progressed I was soon going to be making calls to Prince Fielder's tailor. Something had to be done.

 With surgery I've come to learn, it's not so much the procedure itself, but your dedication to the rehabilitation afterwards that dictates the effectiveness of it. I knew there would be months afterward where physical activity would be reduced to a minimum while I healed. In order to prep for this, my plan of attack became getting myself in the best shape possible whereby I could afford to eat bonbons on the couch. I had roughly 8 months to do it in. So, I signed up for the Mississauga Half Marathon. Daunting? Yes. Impossible for me in my then present shape? Somewhat.

At first it was a goal I kept to myself. However, being a reasonably self-aware person I knew that if it remained a private thing I'd return back down the mountain I'd set out to climb. So, I started telling friends and family, one by one. Accountability. It was then that this goal became that much more tangible. It's much easier to let yourself down than it is those around you.

Eight months later race day had finally come. The hours in the gym, kilometres on the road, and forgoing of Baconators had paid off. I had lost 40lbs in the process. I was ready, yet nervous. I don't remember sleeping much the night before. Maybe 2 hours at the most. If memory serves, it was around the 14km mark that the running became more mental than it did physical. Physical preparation is one thing. Mental prep is a whole different ball of wax. Without ever having done a race of this length before I didn't know how to mentally prepare for it beyond saying "I think I can, I think  can, I think can." My legs started to feel heavy and I could feel some of my toes going numb. I was buoyed by reminding myself that with each plodding step the distance I had run grew greater while the distance I had yet to go shrank. And roughly 2 hours later it was all over. I crossed the finish line in almost exactly the time I figured I would. I was happy.

  To think of myself as a runner is still weird. Being asked for advice about it even more weird. I come from a baseball backround. Baseball players run in 90 ft bursts. I try to help out others where I can with the disclaimer that I am by no means fleet afoot. In fact, there are very few things in this life that I do at a high rate of speed. Nonetheless, running will always be a part of who I am now. Certainly not to the degree that baseball is, but still a part.

come to my window

Some months ago when I started this blogging experience I wasn't totally sure what I was getting into. I saw it more as a diary of the team I coached this past summer with tidbits of my personal experiences in baseball intertwined. The stories came easily because there was so much we did together and accomplished as a team. But alas, that chapter of our lives is now complete. I knew it would be limited in scope, but didn't care - these boys had a story that deserved to be told. I wanted it to not only be readable but relatable. I wanted you, the reader, to in some way, feel like you were a part of the team.

As best I could I wanted to stay away from reporting on events within the broader game of baseball if they had no connection to me. This is your window into my life. You might be saying though, that the blinds on said window seem only half rolled up because when you look through it all you see is a room full of baseballs. There has to be more to me. I can assure you that I do have other interests. I like stuff and I do things.

Soon enough, this window will become a frosty pane of glass with the coming winter months. Other than longing for the beginning of spring training the stories of me and baseball will be largely dried up. Frozen over if you will. Where I go from here I'm not too sure (I've come full circle). Baseball will always be a part of my life, that is for certain. It has been said that there is always a story you just have to look for it. While that may be true, I'm not looking for just a story. I'm looking for a story about me to you.

The Bullpen Gospels

I'd wondered all year how the power of baseball should be wielded. And now I knew. Baseball doesn't have any intrinsic power. It only has what people give to it. For some the man who plays is a superhero, and he can do great things. For some, the man who plays is an obstacle who must get out of the way. Is baseball as important as food, knowledge, care, or a dry pair of boots? Is it as important as some of the things that pass us by in everyday life? I don't think so. Can it inspire, motivate, and call us to do something greater than ourselves? Absolutely. The burden of the player isn't to achieve greatness, but to give the feeling of it to everyone he encounters. It was wrong of me even to try to separate life and the game. They were intertwined, meant to be, one affecting the other, one teaching the other, even when the mixture occasionally blows up.

*an excerpt from the book

The Bullpen Gospels

Dirk Hayhurst

a new Motley Crue

Out with the old and in with the new. And in the case of the 2011 Ancaster Cardinals it will be lots of new. With only two returning players we will be a different team with a different identity. Wednesday night was our second workout of hopefuls for next year.

Sitting there watching the kids play in an intrasquad game, I was reminded of last year when we began this exact same process in very similar weather conditions (re: COLD). We alternated between trying to keep warm and biting our nails wondering how things would evolve for the (then) coming Canadian Championships. Needless to say that version of the Cardinals did their coaches, their parents, and their community proud with a berth in the finals.

Last week, for a brief moment, I was taken back to that week in August when one of the boys hit a homerun in practice. I've said before that nothing tops the experience of a homerun in Little League. Of course there wasn't the people on the surrounding hill applauding or the crowd of teammates waiting for him at home plate, but it was still drew "oohs," "aahs," and smiles all around. That is what separates Little League baseball from all other levels of baseball - the way every achievement is lauded by onlookers.

What 2011 holds remains to be seen, but I'm confident that next summer will be filled with its own collection of unforgettable moments just as this summer was.

if these walls could talk

Ghost stories - everyone seems to have one, be they induced by mind expanding hallucinogens or a real life encounter.  Whatever the case may be I apparently am in the minority here. I have never caused my neurotransmitters to fire at such a rate that I see a herd of angry elephants charging toward me in my sleep. Nor have I had an encounter with the unexplained. What I can tell you about, though, is the feeling I get when I see this image (inset). You might be surprised to learn that this isn't a picture of the SkyDome..errr... Rogers Centre. The atmosphere created by stepping into both parks in their current state might be somewhat similar though. Rogers Mahal is a tribute to the way were in the 80's when bigger was a better. Essentially it is a monument to excess where now parks are built with the intent of building the very atmosphere that it seems to lack.

When I see this image of this diamond I think if these outfield walls could talk, oh the stories they would tell. I've wondered the very same thing when I've visited other parks around the league. I've stood and thought about who played their before or who walked the dugout tunnels. But I rarely do that when I enter the Rogers Centre. Obviously it does have its history, I'm not trying to discredit that. It has played host to some truly memorable baseball moments. And football moments. And soccer moments. And wrestling moments. And musical moments. And car moments. I think you understand what I'm getting at. It is a venue at best and a tourist attraction, not a baseball stadium in the ilk of Wrigley Field or Fenway Park.


image courtesy of:
www.baseballpilgramages.com