We Begin

If you are lucky, you have a few returning athletes and they know the drill. You've recruited a few young adult volunteers to mentor the newbies. They are close enough in age to pass for school kids and with them along, it looks like you have more kids than you really do. The mentors are nostalgic. They want to relive this experience and they want to regain that fitness that they had when they were here with you a year or two ago. They talk to you like adults now.

You take inventory of what you have to build on. Few exude a confident posture. Mostly they are suited in what they think a runner might wear: cheer or soccer shorts, baggy tee shirts (for the studious and plus sized), wife beaters (for the tougher types who never really pan out) high, frilly, or no socks, any variety of cute rubber shoe. Their hair is done, as if they are going somewhere. Almost to a "man" they pull up and fold over the waistbands of their shorts followed by the pulling down at the hem of their tops. They fiddle with their shoelaces. They ask you if they can go to the bathroom. They hang onto their phones, They text while you are talking to them. They tuck their earbuds in deeper because you said they could bring their iPods. Every few years one might stick their hand out to shake yours or ask you how your day was. When this happens, you know their folks have military backgrounds or are conservative Christians.

You ask them to form a circle, in which you are a part of the arc and not in the center. "Raise your arms up high and throw them gently back down by your sides" You lead them through a series of static stretches, swinging arms and neck rolls, and toe touches and you are cracking funnies all the while, taking note of who has a sense of humor and who thinks you are an ass.

You pick your best shot to stand up erect and, as if the thought just occurred to you, point up the little path and say "join me in a little shuffle" (pointing again) "this way".

They are ready. They came here to run, after all, and they never let you down as they strike out like the stars of a textbook 1955 high school documentary film titled "How To Run" . They always run way too fast for the 1st hundred yards, too.

I stop them at the 220 mark and show them the blue mark I have painted on the curb. "STOP", I say. "This is the 220 mark, which is an 1/8th of a mile, sometimes I'll ask you to run to this point and I'll time you".... "Ok, let's trot (notice I didn't say shuffle this time) a little further. I act the fool, running in an exaggerated primal form, making comment on the form of those I think could take a joke and before you know it "STOP!" and I point out the 1/4 mile mark on the curb and go through the same speech. We begin again, the lactate threshold is nearly met on the less gifted. Some fall back. The stronger ones want to "race" already. I take note of everything. "STOP!". I go into a spiel about agility drills which have minimal value in the big picture of what we are trying to achieve this year. . .but it gives them a rest and they feel like they are doing something once we begin skipping sideways, left toe over right toe, then right tow over left toe, then backwards, (which always makes them laugh). I call a halt to it and tell them to "run easy to the truck and get a drink".

At this point every year, a few will walk to the truck instead. They have quit cross country after covering less than 3/8's of a mile.

But some will race to the truck. They are your team.

Back at the truck you address the group. "You just ran 1/2 a mile!", you say, beaming and feigning surprise.. "great job. it doesn't get any harder than what you just did! Every one of you can do this!"

You know right away who believes this. You lead them to a shelter where you instruct them on proper stretching that some might do as runners for the balance of their lives and some may never do again.

You follow this with another round of drinks and a few form drills and a "cool down" before parting ways. You want to rap it up quickly without overdoing it on the first night. And God forgive you, you're trying to allow the duds of the bunch get away from you as fast as they want to.

You go around and ask each kid if you will see them tomorrow night. They are taken aback by your directness. None of them say that you won't.