The Woodberry Harrier 2010: Volume 4

Friendship, courage, and green, green grass  

        When I sit down to catch you up on all our doings, I feel as if I just did so.  Then I set to work and it feels as if a year has rolled by, so dense is our time here.   In a single day the wheel of emotions can spin all the way around: excitement giving way to frustration giving way to calm giving way to clarity giving way to confusion giving way to irritation giving way to exultation or contentment or, sometimes, the feeling of plain stupidity.  The feelings change but the spinning doesn't.   On the rare bad days we get slung around and sometimes fall off, but on the best days we ride the slow center of the wheel, where we watch the colors and shapes change and learn what we can.   We find that still place in the faces and voices and nods and laughs of the others there with us.   Doubt may loom like a thunderhead.  Frustration may blow and rage.  Friendship is dry and still and quiet.   This is what Matt described so well the other day in his meditation.  And ultimately the measure of the season will be the quality of these friendships.              

            But I am not talking about a journey through good times and bad with joy and laughter.   That is all well and good in its place.  Such is the friendship of mere schoolmates.  But the friendship of teammates is made of sterner stuff.  Boon companions they may be, but here there is a greater measure of devotion. The friendship of true teammates is about faith in each other and the unthinking resolve to live up to that faith, no matter what the cost.   And if that definition sounds trite, it is because the truth of such friendship is never in the saying but only in the doing and the being.   It is the not the kind of friendship which would deign to show its face in a smiling slide show with an oldies soundtrack.   Rather it showed itself on a hot afternoon in the dried spittle you were too tired to wipe off your cheek.  It was in the waves of dizziness at the top of a steep hill and in the frightened nod you gave when someone asked you to do one more and in the knees which wanted to buckle at the end.    And it will be in the greatness which blooms small or large in each boy before the end of the season.   Some may think "greatness" too heavy a word here, but I do not.   Greatness does not spring from grand endeavors only.  It is born to any exploit which inspires true faithfulness and courage.   Of course, such powerful friendship--and all that it inspires--does not come cheap,   but when it comes, it sanctifies and blesses and elevates all that we do.  

            It is also a lens through which we see and through which everything we do means something—or should.   I was reminded of this last Thursday when Joyce came to lead our Yoga session.  She began by reading a meditation she had written for the guys that morning.  She had just read the last Harrier, which told of the recent injuries and sinking spirits, and she had the guys on her mind while she ate breakfast and watched her brittle brown lawn turn green again in the long-awaited rain .  The miraculously resilient grass made her think of the resilience of our boys, and she wanted that thought to freshen them as the water had the grass.  It was a small moment in a busy day, but it was such a wonderful gift of friendship.   What better image for cross country runners than the grass they run on and sit on to stretch.  Thin it may be, but what is really tougher? What is more hardy?  Where is there more capacity for spontaneous life?   I am put in mind of Whitman:

A child said What is the grass? Fetching it to me in small hands;

How could I answer the child?  I do not know what it is any more than he

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord

A scented gift and remembrance designedly dropt

Bearing the owner's name somewhat in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say, Whose?

                                   

Whitman, who could see the universe and divinity in "a spear of summer grass," saw it also in drops of sweat and calluses and sore limbs---and in simple friendship and unseen courage and quiet faithfulness.  Whitman would have loved my job.

            Well, let me get back to last week, when the long drought was finally broken with three days of slow rain, which the ground drank so quickly that there was barely any mud.  I was proud of the guys for suffering through boring workouts on the indoor track and for getting some really good work done, too.   They felt good when Friday's sunshine came, and they enjoyed racing St. Christopher's on the "Lower Course."   Perhaps it was the sunshine and the mildness of the day.  Perhaps they were inspired by so many parents being on hand.  Whatever the reason, they ran better as a team than they have yet, and we had some excellent performances.   It was a thrill to watch Addison jockey for first place for the first time in his career.  It felt good to see Josh staying with Matt for the whole race.   It was a thrill to see Matt win his first race.   With so many family and friends on hand on the first afternoon which felt like fall, it was great day.   Here are the results:

St. Chris Dual
Woodberry Lower Course
October 1st,  2010
1st place out of 2 teams Top-five spread: 0:57 Top-seven spread: 1:18
Runner	Time	Place out of  17
Laws	17:52	1st	a 6-sec. season PR; a 1-sec. lifetime PR
Winston	17:55	3rd	a 19-sec. season and lifetime PR!!!
Trudgeon	17:59	4th	a 31-sec. season PR.
Shelton	18:18	7th	a 24-sec, season PR; a 20-sec. lifetime PR
Flynn	18:49	9th
Grantham	18:51	10th
Rafield	19:10	11th
Gimbert	DNF
Garrison	DNR
Bennert	DNR
Exum	DNR
Evans	DNR

And on Saturday morning we were over in Somerset putting in a serious workout on Liberty Mills Road--exactly the right way to end the week.   Stretching at the end, they looked as limber as tall summer grass.