Posted on July 7, 2013 under Storytelling with one comment

When was the last time that you couldn’t sleep because of anxiety?  Was it the night before your wedding? Or, how about a final exam or a job interview?  In most cases, a person tosses from side to side but it can be much worse than just restlessness.  The worry factor can be so high that you may break out in a sweat, or worse, your unsettled innards compel you to make several trips to the loo. Welcome to the start line of a race and in particular, your first race.  I’m talking about running, lest you think I am about to don a helmet at Riverside Speedway.

It matters not if you are running your first 5K race or stepping up to run your first marathon.  Firsts are firsts, no matter how you cut it.  It’s hard to describe what it’s like at the start line of a race unless you’ve been there.  A first timer will experience a range of emotions from pure excitement to utter panic, and everything in between.  Fear of failure is probably high on the list but, as I’ve told my children ad nauseum, there is only one thing worse than trying and failing.  And that is not trying.

What you sense most when you stand in line with hundreds and, in some cases, thousands of others, is this incredible pent up energy.  With ten minutes to race time, the runners are pawing the ground like caged animals.  It`s little wonder that they call this holding area “the corral`.  As the minutes creep by, you wonder if the starter will ever fire his gun.  I have often thought that some inventor should come up with a device that could be attached to runners in the starting area.  The energy could be transmitted to a nearby generator that could power the lights of a small hamlet.

Just when you think you will explode from anticipation, some perky young thing is up on a platform exhorting you to stretch and get pumped up. Really?  You think that this particular group needs pumping up?  And then they always… always … play Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger”.  If I hear that one more time at a race, I will single-handedly go man to man with that tiger and strangle the son of a bitch.

You will see a dazzling array of spandex at the start line.  For many, it seems to be a fashion show about to be marred by sweat.  Like an ostentation of peacocks prior to the courtship display … apologies to the peahens.

And you will also see a lot of port-o-potties.  Please review paragraph one.  Easily the most important piece of equipment at a race.

Mercifully, the executioner holds up his hand and in the time honored tradition utters the words, “on your mark, get set…..”  Before you know it, you cross the start pad as a thousand timing devices go off simultaneously.  And then it is your time.  You and your thoughts.

“This is the moment! 

This is the day,

When I send all my doubts and demons

On their way!”

(from This is the Moment – Jekyll and Hyde soundtrack)

 

Posted on July 6, 2013 under Storytelling with no comments yet

I know I should be sitting in an air conditioned bar sipping on a few cool ones. But those of you who have been following my stories for several months, know that I am not normal… not even close. I am sitting at a my computer,  in a room that could pass for a sauna, drinking coffee. Writing.

I don’t know if there are any road races scheduled for this weekend. Hopefully not. This heat would be brutal for runners but I can tell you, this is exactly what it was like in 2012 when a few of us ran  the Boston Marathon. You can check out a story I wrote about this at www.week45.com. Go to the archives for April 15th. In honor of all runners, especially new runners, I wrote a story today that I will be posting on Sunday the 7th. of July. I am going to try and describe what it is like to stand at the starting line for your first race. The story is called ” It All Starts Here”.

As promised, in a video on my website ( Sea People ), I am going to tackle a tricky subject: the problems in the lobster fishery. I am doing this with a great deal of trepidation. I value the small number of friends that I have and this number could be significantly reduced after publication! The story is called “Into a Pot of Boiling Water”.

And coming up later next week, I will be posting a story about the Antigonish Landing. It is called ” A Soft Landing” and once again you can preview the video of the same name.

What a weekend to be in Canso or Cavendish for two incredible music festivals.

Hope you’re having an awesome weekend and get ready to lace ’em up tomorrow morning.

 

Posted on July 5, 2013 under Storytelling with one comment

Our youngest daughter is soon to be wed.  I have watched with a combination of admiration and astonishment as she and her fiancé have planned the modest event in the calmest, most laid back fashion humanly possible.  They have made it easy for everyone around them.  In my humble estimation, this is an exception to the rule… a complete and utter aberration.

I remember distinctly the day we got engaged.  Immediately after making the announcement and sharing a glass of champagne with my future in-laws, the wedding plans ramped into high gear.  I suggested a small, family wedding.  There would have been a better response from a conference of deaf people.  I found out very quickly that my outlook, well, didn’t count.  So guys, here is tip number one: your opinion simply does not matter when it comes to planning the wedding.  Do not offer any brilliant ideas because you will quickly find out that they hold no merit.  Get used to shutting your mouth, nodding your head and keeping a silly perma-grin on your face.  Your fate is in someone else’s hands.

My daughter’s wedding is going to be a small, intimate family affair.  If most men had their druthers, they would opt for one of those classy wedding chapels in Vegas where you can rent just about everything, including the wedding attendants and guests, including cheerleaders if you want them.

Many weddings these days can take months, and in some cases, years to plan.  By the time the couple says “I Do”, everyone is suffering mental fatigue, emotional hangover and insolvency.

Here is tip number two: if you are a man, your impending nuptials have nothing to do with you.  You are an afterthought.  Quite frankly, if you don’t show up at the ceremony you will hardly be missed.  Nobody cares what you wear.  Absolutely nobody is going to be looking at you.  If you have a plate of spaghetti and meat balls before the service and slobber some of it on your crisply ironed, white shirt, not a single living human being will notice the orange hue as you stand sheepishly at the altar waiting for your betrothed.

Tip number three: on your wedding day, stay out of the way.  Grab a few of your buddies and go for a game of golf.  I did.  Or grab the fishing rod and head out to some remote river where the only sound you will hear is birds and gurgling water.  Now if you are a masochist, you may not take my advice and may want to participate in some of the last minute wedding details.  You are one sick puppy so don’t ever come to me for advice again.

During the summer we often drive by the Cathedral as a wedding is about to take place.  I watch as the dazzling bride exits the limo followed by her entourage.  I start to roll down the window to scream at the top of my lungs “Don’t do it!”, but I am stopped by a stern rebuke from my wife.  She is on to me.