This past Sunday offered a slew of athletic competitions for consumption, all of which had a lot of pride on the line.
The Cowboys rode into Green Bay and won at Lambeau for the first time in history on Sunday Night Football. The Yankees played the final baseball game at Yankee Stadium, beating the Orioles and ending the ballparks life as it had begun: with a victory. And some good 'ol boys on the United States team golfed their way past some talented yet, um, stuffy Europeans for the first Ryder Cup for the Americans in nine years.
But my personal favorite event on Sunday started at 7:45 a.m., was provided only local news coverage and put serious personal pride on the podium.
The 31st annual ING Philadelphia Distance Run began at the famous "Rocky Steps," appropriate for the underdog stories in each pair sneakers. Over 16,000 enthusiastic participants entered their assigned corrals around 7:15. The various ages, sizes, shapes and experiences of the runners was apparent in the selection of running gear (my favorite was an older gentleman steadily jogging in his tan 'Older, Wiser, Sexier' oversized t-shirt, barely surpassing the kilted 'In my mind, I run like a Kenyan' guy and the guy in a chicken costume).
As race time neared, the caliber of the competition was announced by the EmCee of the event. 32 runners had run every Philly half-marathon ever put together. Kenyan Catherine Ndereba was running her first race since taking the silver medal in the women's marathon at the Beijing Olympics (she would be the second woman to finish on this day, too). Entrants in wheelchairs were sent out a few minutes before the throngs of foot-travelers to a thunderous applause, beginning the series of memories of personal triumphs.
I stood underneath the start line banner, waiting for my running all-star to come through from the 16th corral. Before he reached me, I watched thousands upon thousands of enthusiastic runners pass.
Many had hi-tech moisture-wicking, light-weight, bear-repellant running apparel on (I'm assuming it was bear repellant because it looked like it did everything else). But those who looked most comfortable were the teams with t-shirts supporting causes or people. Distance for Dan. Livestrong, the Tug McGraw team and numerous other groups were represented. These people were not just running for pride, but running for lives.
After I completed my initial cheerleading duties, I joined the other spectators spreading out on the course. I picked my spot at mile 4, underneath the carved stone statues marking the Benjiman Franklin Parkway. By that point, just beyond the 5K marker, those who were running for time separated themselves from those who were running for pride. I missed the race leaders - they were running four-and-a-half minute miles (crazy). But I did see the "weekend warriors," the cancer survivors, the gentlemen carrying a team flag and pushing a boy in a wheelchair, the woman pushing a stroller, the pre-work morning runners. All along the race course, bands were playing, pom-poms were shaking, cowbells were ringing (curing fevers for many who demand more cowbell) and people were supporting not just their friends and family but everyone who chose to wake up extra early on a Sunday to run 13.1 miles.
I made my way back to the finish line after consuming a much-needed cup of coffee (I am neither a runner nor a morning person). The EmCee was announcing as many finishers as he could, highlighting those who had traveled a long distance to compete or runners whose age categorized them as a baby boomer.
As people crossed the finish line, sighs of relief were heard. Faces expressed the strange combination of exhaustion and joy, achievement and pain, that only pushing ones self can create. Couples held hands across the line. People jumped to touch the banner. Some even crossed running backward (although the elevated timing line made this more of a challenge than one would think). It was exciting to see such outward celebration of accomplishment.
Thirteen point one miles is a long way to run. It takes mental focus, physical training and a lot of heart to push yourself that distance. It also takes a lot of pride.
Personal Aside: My runner finished in 2 hours, 5 minutes, and I could not be more proud.
September 25, 2008
Ask and Ye Shall Receive
Be persistent. Ask a lot of questions. Make sure people know you are interested.
I've heard these recommendations from everyone in the print and broadcast media that I've worked with.
If you don't ask, you won't know. Be at the right place at the right time. Stand on your head and crochet a sweater while whistling the Senegalese national anthem (OK, not really, but sometimes that's what I feel is expected of me).
Throughout life, I've always felt like asking for more meant I was greedy. I have a Barbie - why would I want more? There are girls who don't have Barbies.
Adjusting my attitude to this "ask or you'll never get what you want" system has been difficult.
Recently, I asked one of my editors, now that baseball season is coming to an end, if he had time to meet in person and if he needed anyone to cover hockey. Two separate questions, but they ended up with one result.
Last Monday, I went to my very first New York Rangers game at Madison Square Garden to meet with my editor. Sometimes I don't believe these things happen to me.
I picked up my press credential in the employee entrance and got in the elevator. We waited for a man in a very nice suit and a small boy in a Rangers jersey to accompany us.
Now, I've watched a LOT of NHL hockey over the past decade or so, especially my favorite team the Colorado Avalanche. And there are some faces you never forget, like '97-'98 Hobey Baker Award winner, '98-'99 Calder Memorial Trophy winner, 2001 Stanley Cup Champion, two-time Olympian, Trumbull, Conn. Little League World Series winning pitcher, former Avalanche/Flames/Sabre, current Ranger Chris Drury.
Chris Drury got in the elevator right in front of me. It took every ounce of my intestinal fortitude not to cry and scream and generally make a scene. Chris Drury is everything that is right with hockey. He's Mr. Clutch (the NHL's version of A.J. Graves, if you will). And he's in the elevator with me.
What a great way to start the evening.
Now, if you've ever been to a hockey game at Madison Square Garden, you realize that it's hockey the way God intended it. There are no obstructed views, and in every seat you feel like you're sitting on top of the ice. I felt privileged to be there to see that game.
I met the other writers along press row, including a wonderful man who does a monthly Rangers magazine and a radio locker room vet. They were intrigued by my odyssey from Wisconsin to Indiana to Madison Square Garden - I do sound like my story is straight out of a Journey song.
As the game goes on, my editor talk about the business and how it took him two years of writing before earning a paycheck (not what I wanted to hear, but still encouragement that I'm not doing everything wrong). He tells me he's "The Guy At the Garden" for Rangers games, and calls in scores updates to the all-powerful four-letter channel. He asks me if I could fill in for him for a few games in the next couple of weeks after his wife gives birth.
So, another semi-paid job with the worldwide leader is in my future. Another example of how it is more likely to work your way in through the back door than waltzing through the front door in this business.
My editor also asks me to write a story for the evening. I keep notes, and toss out a few ideas. We try to come up with a story on the first line playing together for the first time, but it eventually got dismissed.
The Rangers won, beating the Senators in their home pre-season opener. Ho-hum. But when the reporters RAN down to the Rangers locker room at the end of the game, I ended up talking with goalie and three time Vezina Trophy finalist Henrick Lundqvist. Lundqvist talked my ear off. I asked him three questions and we talked for 15 minutes, one on one.
I had my story.
Writing it came naturally. I didn't have to consult the score chart and line-ups the way I usually do for baseball. It just felt right, so I sent it in.
I guess it turned out alright, and I held my composure for being in a professional locker room for the first time, because I may be writing on the New Jersey Devils this season.
Covering the Devils comes with more caveats than my baseball assignment (taking the train to Newark, hauling my laptop along), but it also offers a whole new world of contacts and experience.
I had been to two NHL games as a fan before, both in Chicago at the United Center. I asked to write about hockey, and I ended up in the locker room at my third pro game, and maybe two new jobs. Ask and ye shall receive.
I've heard these recommendations from everyone in the print and broadcast media that I've worked with.
If you don't ask, you won't know. Be at the right place at the right time. Stand on your head and crochet a sweater while whistling the Senegalese national anthem (OK, not really, but sometimes that's what I feel is expected of me).
Throughout life, I've always felt like asking for more meant I was greedy. I have a Barbie - why would I want more? There are girls who don't have Barbies.
Adjusting my attitude to this "ask or you'll never get what you want" system has been difficult.
Recently, I asked one of my editors, now that baseball season is coming to an end, if he had time to meet in person and if he needed anyone to cover hockey. Two separate questions, but they ended up with one result.
Last Monday, I went to my very first New York Rangers game at Madison Square Garden to meet with my editor. Sometimes I don't believe these things happen to me.
I picked up my press credential in the employee entrance and got in the elevator. We waited for a man in a very nice suit and a small boy in a Rangers jersey to accompany us.
Now, I've watched a LOT of NHL hockey over the past decade or so, especially my favorite team the Colorado Avalanche. And there are some faces you never forget, like '97-'98 Hobey Baker Award winner, '98-'99 Calder Memorial Trophy winner, 2001 Stanley Cup Champion, two-time Olympian, Trumbull, Conn. Little League World Series winning pitcher, former Avalanche/Flames/Sabre, current Ranger Chris Drury.
Chris Drury got in the elevator right in front of me. It took every ounce of my intestinal fortitude not to cry and scream and generally make a scene. Chris Drury is everything that is right with hockey. He's Mr. Clutch (the NHL's version of A.J. Graves, if you will). And he's in the elevator with me.
What a great way to start the evening.
Now, if you've ever been to a hockey game at Madison Square Garden, you realize that it's hockey the way God intended it. There are no obstructed views, and in every seat you feel like you're sitting on top of the ice. I felt privileged to be there to see that game.
I met the other writers along press row, including a wonderful man who does a monthly Rangers magazine and a radio locker room vet. They were intrigued by my odyssey from Wisconsin to Indiana to Madison Square Garden - I do sound like my story is straight out of a Journey song.
As the game goes on, my editor talk about the business and how it took him two years of writing before earning a paycheck (not what I wanted to hear, but still encouragement that I'm not doing everything wrong). He tells me he's "The Guy At the Garden" for Rangers games, and calls in scores updates to the all-powerful four-letter channel. He asks me if I could fill in for him for a few games in the next couple of weeks after his wife gives birth.
So, another semi-paid job with the worldwide leader is in my future. Another example of how it is more likely to work your way in through the back door than waltzing through the front door in this business.
My editor also asks me to write a story for the evening. I keep notes, and toss out a few ideas. We try to come up with a story on the first line playing together for the first time, but it eventually got dismissed.
The Rangers won, beating the Senators in their home pre-season opener. Ho-hum. But when the reporters RAN down to the Rangers locker room at the end of the game, I ended up talking with goalie and three time Vezina Trophy finalist Henrick Lundqvist. Lundqvist talked my ear off. I asked him three questions and we talked for 15 minutes, one on one.
I had my story.
Writing it came naturally. I didn't have to consult the score chart and line-ups the way I usually do for baseball. It just felt right, so I sent it in.
I guess it turned out alright, and I held my composure for being in a professional locker room for the first time, because I may be writing on the New Jersey Devils this season.
Covering the Devils comes with more caveats than my baseball assignment (taking the train to Newark, hauling my laptop along), but it also offers a whole new world of contacts and experience.
I had been to two NHL games as a fan before, both in Chicago at the United Center. I asked to write about hockey, and I ended up in the locker room at my third pro game, and maybe two new jobs. Ask and ye shall receive.
Note From The Blogger
As you may have noticed, I took a hiatus from "Make Yourself"
This was not an intended hiatus, but became necessary during my travels. Trying to get an internet connection in the middle of a cornfield in Kentucky is not easy.
I have several handwritten entries that need to be posted, so those will come at you as soon as they get typed (and it may not happen in a chronological order - please be patient!)
In the meantime, if you're curious for some more Mel-style writing, please visit www.nysportscene.com. There you'll be able to find my local baseball stories, and even a New York Rangers game wrap (more on that soon)!
Thank you for your patience, and please enjoy the fall editions of "Melinda Makes Herself."
This was not an intended hiatus, but became necessary during my travels. Trying to get an internet connection in the middle of a cornfield in Kentucky is not easy.
I have several handwritten entries that need to be posted, so those will come at you as soon as they get typed (and it may not happen in a chronological order - please be patient!)
In the meantime, if you're curious for some more Mel-style writing, please visit www.nysportscene.com. There you'll be able to find my local baseball stories, and even a New York Rangers game wrap (more on that soon)!
Thank you for your patience, and please enjoy the fall editions of "Melinda Makes Herself."
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