Part Two of the Tribute to Norm Series
A life-changing bet
We hadn't worked long together before we became pretty good friends. His job necessarily intersected mine in a regular way - my class size was large, and the demographics of the area ensured I had many students in need of his services. Our personalities, or rather, his personality was such that forging a friendship was easy. Not only that, it was a necessity; we, along with Tom Kirkman and Mike Fields, were the only men in the building (excluding Mr. Bohling, but as principal, we didn't travel in the same circles).
Fall passed to winter passed to spring, and as the weather warmed the other guys gathered to run one day. They asked me to join them. I was a power lifter at that time, at the height of my strength (my nickname back then was "Big Bill"), and I'd always been able to run. "Sure, why not?", I said.
Tom was definitely the leader of the group, being an ex-running coach. The regular path was to start at the 16th and Highway #37 intersection and run to the Oolitic light, a distance of about three miles. Tom's methodology was direct as it was simple - we staggered the run so we all finished together. Specifically, the slowest guy went first, then the next fastest, then the next, then the fastest. The sub-idea was to beat your expected finish, meaning you individually finished ahead of everyone else.
Being the studly man I was (or thought I was), it fell to me to take the last slot. It made sense, as I was the youngest and (apparently) most fit. Common sense would suggest I should be the fastest. Norm, ever the instigator, tossed out what I thought was an insane bet. "I bet I beat you for three miles!"
In my head, my inner-Deckard shouted, "NO FRICKEN' WAY!". Outwardly, I scoffed, and promised it would not, no, could not happen.
Once at the starting line, Mike started out. Tom followed at the preset time interval, then Norm. I went last. Being the novice road runner, I of course tried to make up all the distance at once. As I recall, there were several minutes between us (such was their confidence in me). I was great for a mile. Then I wasn't great. Then I wasn't good. Then I wasn't even bad - I was horrible! I drug myself in, quite sure my suffering would be rewarded with the gloating I would heap upon Norm.
Oh, there was gloating. And it was heaped. On me.
Norm had bested me by maybe 20 seconds. Now I could try to make excuses. I could suggest that side-by-side it wouldn't have happened. I could suggest my pacing could have changed things. But you know what? When you lose, own it, and congratulate the one who beat you. Norm won, fair and square, so I did the honorable thing. I walked right up to him, stuck my finger in his chest, and said, and I quote,
"That will never happen again!"
Our lives take twists and turns, it's part of the adventure, and often we can't see around the next bend. Sometimes we can't even look back to discern how we arrived at our current destination, but in the rare case, there is absolute, crystal-clear clarity about when our lives changed forever. For me, this instant marked one of the most dramatic course alterations in my life.
You see, I kept that promise. I immediately started training - a lot. Norm and I were so competitive on every level, I couldn't allow him to win anything. From that moment on, I stopped being a weight lifter. I became, overnight, an endurance athlete. My first week post-loss was 40 miles, and it only went up from there. Within months, I ran my first 5k and 10k. It turned out I had some talent (broke 18:00 on my first 5k!), and my life became running for many years to come.
But that's only a fraction of it. Running soon brought me into a whole new circle of friends, people whom I could easily describe as the best friends I've ever had, indeed they are my family, and they are also the highest caliber of human beings anyone could ever know. They are diverse, talented, funny, warm, and caring, just as Norm was, and it's because of him and his silly bet I'm a part of their lives.
I've thought often of that bet over the years, chuckled at it, marveled at how easily Norm could play me, like a maestro on his violin. I'll always remember that moment, only now that chuckle will be followed by a tear...
Tomorrow: Norm hates heat
A life-changing bet
We hadn't worked long together before we became pretty good friends. His job necessarily intersected mine in a regular way - my class size was large, and the demographics of the area ensured I had many students in need of his services. Our personalities, or rather, his personality was such that forging a friendship was easy. Not only that, it was a necessity; we, along with Tom Kirkman and Mike Fields, were the only men in the building (excluding Mr. Bohling, but as principal, we didn't travel in the same circles).
Fall passed to winter passed to spring, and as the weather warmed the other guys gathered to run one day. They asked me to join them. I was a power lifter at that time, at the height of my strength (my nickname back then was "Big Bill"), and I'd always been able to run. "Sure, why not?", I said.
Tom was definitely the leader of the group, being an ex-running coach. The regular path was to start at the 16th and Highway #37 intersection and run to the Oolitic light, a distance of about three miles. Tom's methodology was direct as it was simple - we staggered the run so we all finished together. Specifically, the slowest guy went first, then the next fastest, then the next, then the fastest. The sub-idea was to beat your expected finish, meaning you individually finished ahead of everyone else.
Being the studly man I was (or thought I was), it fell to me to take the last slot. It made sense, as I was the youngest and (apparently) most fit. Common sense would suggest I should be the fastest. Norm, ever the instigator, tossed out what I thought was an insane bet. "I bet I beat you for three miles!"
In my head, my inner-Deckard shouted, "NO FRICKEN' WAY!". Outwardly, I scoffed, and promised it would not, no, could not happen.
Once at the starting line, Mike started out. Tom followed at the preset time interval, then Norm. I went last. Being the novice road runner, I of course tried to make up all the distance at once. As I recall, there were several minutes between us (such was their confidence in me). I was great for a mile. Then I wasn't great. Then I wasn't good. Then I wasn't even bad - I was horrible! I drug myself in, quite sure my suffering would be rewarded with the gloating I would heap upon Norm.
Oh, there was gloating. And it was heaped. On me.
Norm had bested me by maybe 20 seconds. Now I could try to make excuses. I could suggest that side-by-side it wouldn't have happened. I could suggest my pacing could have changed things. But you know what? When you lose, own it, and congratulate the one who beat you. Norm won, fair and square, so I did the honorable thing. I walked right up to him, stuck my finger in his chest, and said, and I quote,
"That will never happen again!"
Our lives take twists and turns, it's part of the adventure, and often we can't see around the next bend. Sometimes we can't even look back to discern how we arrived at our current destination, but in the rare case, there is absolute, crystal-clear clarity about when our lives changed forever. For me, this instant marked one of the most dramatic course alterations in my life.
You see, I kept that promise. I immediately started training - a lot. Norm and I were so competitive on every level, I couldn't allow him to win anything. From that moment on, I stopped being a weight lifter. I became, overnight, an endurance athlete. My first week post-loss was 40 miles, and it only went up from there. Within months, I ran my first 5k and 10k. It turned out I had some talent (broke 18:00 on my first 5k!), and my life became running for many years to come.
But that's only a fraction of it. Running soon brought me into a whole new circle of friends, people whom I could easily describe as the best friends I've ever had, indeed they are my family, and they are also the highest caliber of human beings anyone could ever know. They are diverse, talented, funny, warm, and caring, just as Norm was, and it's because of him and his silly bet I'm a part of their lives.
I've thought often of that bet over the years, chuckled at it, marveled at how easily Norm could play me, like a maestro on his violin. I'll always remember that moment, only now that chuckle will be followed by a tear...
Tomorrow: Norm hates heat
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