Activation – noun: making active and effective
Growing up in St. Louis, I spent as much time as possible playing outside. My schoolmates, kids from the neighborhood, and I would entertain ourselves with variations on traditional sports, Big Wheeling, and biking.
I say “variations” because we rarely had the proper equipment, playing field, time, or number of participants to play a “regulation” game. But we always seemed to stay semi-organized, work up a sweat, and have fun as the daylight hours slipped away. Inevitably, Mom’s dinner call signaled the game-ending buzzer, regardless of the score.
We once organized a full baseball game with catcher’s equipment and all. Can you imagine scheduling 18 people to do anything these days?
But we usually resorted to playing corkball. The required equipment was only a thin bat and a tennis ball. Two strikes was an out, as was a foul tip. A squib was a “neutral” — didn’t count for or against. A hit past the pitcher was a single. To the fence on one bounce — double. To the fence on the fly — triple. And if you muscled one over the fence, well that was just the bomb — a home run, of course. Nothing felt more manly. Catch a ball on one bounce — you’re out. If the catcher caught a swinging second strike — double play. Where did we come up with this stuff?
My backyard had a cement patio with a brick barbecue pit. I discovered that if I threw a racquetball off the barbecue pit at the perfect angle, I could get the ball to pop up. If I was lucky it would fly just high and far enough to where I could jump up and rob my imaginary batter of a home run. I’d keep score with chalk.
I had a basketball hoop in my backyard. It wasn’t sturdy but it accommodated some shooting around and an occasional game. One day I discovered that if I took a log from Dad’s woodpile and set it in the perfect spot, I could build enough momentum, leap off the stump, and throw down a vicious dunk. Thanks to the perfect log, we soon were cradling Nerf balls and bending the rim with every attempt. The net got so tattered that it would shed fabric with a rim-rattling dunk on the 8-foot goal. The shedding fabric was soon dubbed “slam material” and if you didn’t cause any to come down, your stuff was weak. Over in the alley at a friend’s house we could even do a reverse jam by stepping off his garage door with just the right timing.
Our football games were either full-on games at the park or smaller versions in the street or backyard. We would “forget” to invite the guys who hit puberty before the rest of us, knowing they knocked the wind out of anything they ran into. Heaven forbid we’d be playing “kill the man with the ball” when one of them showed up. Suddenly everyone was fumbling.
Sometimes a guy would declare “all-time quarterback” (for both teams) and we’d all immediately see the logic. Good thing we had no play clock in those days, as some of our trick plays took five minute to draw up. “Run a few steps, bend down like you’re going to tie your shoe, and when he relaxes, sprint to the second tree after the station wagon and I’ll hit you there. Got it?”
We’d play hockey on the blacktop and make our own goalie masks and pads — out of cardboard! It didn’t matter if we couldn’t bend our knees because the stiff cardboard was duct-taped across our corduroy pant knees or that we really couldn’t see through the cut-out eye holes in the mask. With our baseball gloves and cardboard pads with logos drawn on with magic markers, we believed we were like real NHL goalies.
We even invented a game called “Hockey-Soccer-Football” with rules so obscure they’ve slipped my adult mind. We made up the rules as we went along during our regular recess games.
Sure, we had to deal with bad weather. That’s when we brought the hockey games indoors. All we needed was a good tapeball and a fireplace as the goal. A couple of Nerf balls bouncing off the wood paneling made for some wicked indoor soccer games. And don’t think we didn’t do some Nerf dunking on the rim that hangs from the door. No traveling violations, no fouls, no problem.
One Christmas I got a set of boxing gloves. Instead of working the speed bag, which was falling out of the basement wall, my friends and I would go toe to toe in some super-featherweight battles. I only had one set of gloves, though, and we were all right-handed, so the advantage was clear. To balance things out we’d use oven mitts for the other hand. Golden Rule: Absolutely no hitting to the head with the oven mitt!
Let’s not forget the Big Wheels and Green Machines and our steel tank bicycles with banana seats, thick tires, reflectors, chain guards, and fenders. Classic. I’m still not sure what made me think I could jump off ramps.
What amazes me about all these games and activities is that we played them, for the most part, without arguments. When conflicts arose, we’d quickly come up with a fair solution and just keep playing. If you didn’t like the decision, then you just had to crush the next pitch, drain the next shot, or crank the pedals harder to prove your point. An old fashioned, “I’ll show you what I’m made of” was the ultimate rebuttal.
If you’re “serious” about fitness or triathlons, then odds are you’re following a plan, tracking mileage, and measuring your results. You’re eating and drinking special foods. You’re monitoring your life in beats per minute, miles per hour, foot strikes per minute, strokes per length, calories per hour and per day, watts, cadence, breaths, and sweat rates. And all of this is measured with expensive gizmos and tracked with precision and neatly charted to tell you that you still are not fast enough to win your age group and, by the way, you better get some sleep to be effective at work tomorrow.
My trip back to my youth, which hopefully stirred some of your own memories, was a reminder to get out and do it. Do it because it’s fun. Don’t make it too complicated or confuse yourself with information overload.
I didn’t realize that my Big Wheel actually had a disc wheel and that a Green Machine had aerobars. I thought strawberry Kool-Aid was the ultimate thirst quencher. I didn’t think about recovery drinks or which zone my heart was in when I was playing. Cross-training happened naturally. Calories were burned as a byproduct of the great outdoors, the pursuit of laughter, and the imagination of a young heart and uncomplicated vigor to play and have fun.
We all know it’s important to have a plan to achieve goals. Technology, nutrition, and performance monitoring are components of success. But you’ll only make good use of those components if your enjoyment of training and racing can carry you to your dreams. Sacrifice and hard work — yes, absolutely. The willingness and desire to get out there — required. Finding pleasure and enjoyment in the activities that support your goals — that’s when your dreams have a chance of coming true.
Respect,
JPDLabels: Activations
