“My goal is an expensive training watch,” Kari heard Dutch announce over dinner last Spring.
All year I taught a physical education (P.E.) class on Mondays for middle and high school students. It was lots of fun, and especially a learning lesson for this coach. During the year Dutch gained strength, endurance, confidence, coordination, and became a friend of exertion. Attitude is essential to this course, and weekly I extolled to all in public, and to Dutch in private, the value of a good effort, exertion, proper form, and enjoyment of sport and games. Most of what we did was get moving through warmup, games, introduced the fundamental aspects of a few sports, learning the necessary skills, rules, and working on those in an environment of grace. For many of these kids this was the first foray into organized sports of sorts, having not participated on teams in the usual leagues. Seeing their enjoyment of exercise, being kids at play, was fulfilling as a tutor and coach. This brief introduction to playing catch, not only enjoying a few sports (many of their choosing), but also to gain confidence in playing them.
The most frequently played game was one I invented on a whim to make use of the painted lines in the parking lot, with a triangle at one end. Tri-Ball was born and this fast-paced game of catch and goal-scoring on teams (think ultimate frisbee with the disk traded for a small rubber ball) got them moving rain or shine. After a warmup, a hilly walk-then-run course, self-checking heart rates and a short lesson/lecture outlining the rules or effect of exercises, we played games, learned the day’s new skill — how to hold a basketball, aim, shoot, and follow-through; the “windows” for catching a soft football; ways to place that kickball were the defense cannot catch it; making contact with a level swing in wiffle ball — or added on to their expanding skill set (a bounce pass after dribbling a basketball, how to stand and move fluidly when throwing a ball). Rather quickly our hour was almost up.
The last request of every P.E. class? “Can we play tag?!” Ultimate tag is a favorite (everyone’s “it”), sometimes borg tag, until class was complete.
After a few months, I gave instruction in how to set a fitness goal and the related emphases of exertion, sustained effort, then rest, and recovery. We talked about “polarity,” such as a hard effort followed by an easy or restful day, rather than going all-out over-and-over. Teens need rest, plenty of it. Changing paces, or “shifting gears” is a rare ability for people of all ages, so we worked on that in the by and by. Their fitness goals ranged from a custom training plan for pushups for a few who chose that path, consistency on wake-up times to do chores, a short workout, and eating a healthy breakfast. Others focused on walking hills 3x/week for others, to keeping a log of sleep and nutrition. Each student set their sights on an end goal, a timeline, and how to go about keeping track of progress. Let the training begin.
Dutch’s first goal? “To tag four people in one game.”
What?! And then he seriously described the effort, coordination, strategy, and tactics that go into this feat. He’s an ultimate tagger, and I see him not only playing as a kid with joy, but also with a sincere competitive drive. Tag is not just a game, friends. It’s a sport. With friends. You compete with them during the game, then laugh and retell the previous game’s highlights and turning points.
Son, I’m sold. But I want you to set another goal after you reach that one. As Dutch kept a training log of all the cross-training that went into getting better at tag, his fitness formed. Strength through pushups and weights. Endurance through running uphill and a regular mile with his old man. Racing hard on his bike up and down hills, leading the way when sister and younger brother (towed in a Weehoo) ride a few miles together. Circling back to encourage and wait when he gets far ahead. Arm wrestling challenges with friends. Tactical training with sticks and swords. Did I mention games of tag? Logging hydration, eating greens and protein. All of it noted mentally and personally.
An aside: I know many men my age who have all the gear, who look athletic with their fresh running shoes or fancy new bike, but won’t wake up to put in the hidden work. Fitness eludes, not because it’s expensive but because it’s costly. It takes time, effort, intention, coaching. It takes turning off the screens late at night to get the needed rest for the coming day. It takes one more rep when you want to quit, or skipping the day’s workout when injured. It takes having a goal bigger than one’s apathy. These men have the time but not devotion, the tips and tricks but not the drive. Many get that expensive training watch yet use few of its many features. What if these men turned on that GPS and enjoyed an all-out game of tag?
In my thirties I tried to recapture the fitness of my former years. In some ways I did, being able to run faster and farther, endure more uphill suffering on the bike, lift more, and all the rest. After twenty-one years of chronic pain my lower spine healed (praise God), marked by a moment six years ago last week. Then a whole bunch of life-related injuries and stressful setbacks marched along to slowed this aging man down. Still training, yet more adaptive and functional. Seems like every week I’m notified that a Strava segment has been captured by a friend or stranger, all over the Original City. Doubt I’ll be atop any of those leaderboards again.
Now I am not chasing a younger self, but rather an older son. And I am humble enough to admit Dutch beat me arm wrestling for the first time a few weeks ago. He’s humble enough to admit his old man surely won the best-of-three challenge. He chuckled and said, “Dad, it will be another decade before another son beats you for the first time arm wrestling.” I quipped, “Justice will be only thirteen then.” Dutch didn’t miss a beat: “And you’ll be fifty-three.” Ha.
Dutch enjoys all of these modes of exercise, the sameness and the variety, which is the point of having a fitness goal to begin with. You gain confidence as you train for it. by direct effort you train today for what we could not do, even tomorrow. This steadfast patience and learning process is an analogy for all of life. Yes there is “the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat,” yet more often it is overcoming the enemy of apathy and angst to trust the process and put in the work of happily suffering for good. You grasp humility as you see your own limitations and how your health makes it so you can effective serve others, and teach them as well.
“My brothers and sisters, I myself am convinced about you that you also are full of goodness, filled with all knowledge, and able to instruct one another.”
—Romans 15:14
To measure some of these efforts I strap a Garmin GPS watch on Dutch’s wrist. He reaches the distance or the prescribed time, then hits stop, and writes it down. All without a show or praise. External motivation is a vapor, internal motivation endures.
Then Dutch announced his new goal over dinner of been and cheese burritos. Kari heard it as “an expansive training watch.”
In reality our man-child had said, “an extensive training log.”
Yes, indeed, son. It is what we do in the hidden moments of our lives, the training behind-the-scenes, the efforts when no one else knows, or is awake, or would join us if they were. Priorities, and devotion. I love Dutch, and how he sees sport and fitness as fun, enjoyable, an expansive field for making progress. He makes learning a priority, he devotes himself to it. He’s also a great classmate and teammate to others, a consummate encourager, putting in his best effort even in new sports he doesn’t have lots of practice in. (This Dad laments not teaching him how to shoot a basketball earlier.) He’s growing in wisdom and stature, before God and man, in real-time.
One day he may have an expensive training watch. But that’s not necessary right now. He doesn’t try to look athletic. The young man is.
We often laugh in our home about this misunderstanding of the “expensive training watch” versus the extensive training log. One looks impressive, the other is impressive.
Tonight we will run a mile together before dinner. Tomorrow I’ll run 5K as fast as possible before sunrise. Dutch says he’s doing 100 pushups on Saturday. He’s been training regularly so he can enjoy it. We’ll put in the effort, together, with proper form. He’ll critique me and say I skimped on a few. We’ll do chores, haul firewood, fix a few things. We’ll get good and tired having fun as we age together.
Some people in our church and city ask me what I’m training for these days. Life. I’m training for life. As a father, husband, pastor, servant, neighbor, friend. Each of those roles deserves my best effort, and requires training. For a year and a half I’ve been patiently recovering from a set of neuromuscular and neuroskeleton injuries. The lack of running for a long time discouraged me deeply, but then I set new goals — and training regimens — to be able to lift our toddler without pain, handle the pressures and pains and joys of pastoring, and keep up with these four kids for years to come. No official races on the horizon or calendar; might have retired since turning forty, at least for a while.
Officially I’m just a Dad training to remain healthy in these kids’ lives. The other day I chased down Dutch on a mile run before dinner. It was so fun.
Tag, son, you’re it.
“Our lives amount to what we become within; and it is from within, from our heart-flow, that we live out our lives.”
—Dr. Adam Poole
