Playing on the B squad...Not everyone gets sprinkles

Please refrain from sharing or posting your terrible B squad stories- no offense, but this is a positive post not meant to entice people to share the opposite experience but to enjoy that someone had a positive one, and to think about how you can help make your kid’s B squad experience (if they have one) a positive one.

Playing on the B squad of a team (in this case basketball) means you most likely won’t play much or at all. It means you will come to every practice and give it your all- and still not play much or at all. Most kids who are on a B squad know why they are on the B squad, they aren’t as good as the A squad- pretty simple. Most kids know that right after try outs and are just happy to have made the team (aka my daughter)- the problem usually lies with the parents (shocking, I know) and their perception of how good their kid is at that particular sport, but that’s not the point of this story.  This story is about what you (aka the kid, and the parent) can learn about being on the “B” team.

I work with some of the most talented business students in the country. Over the past several years, when meeting with sophomores, a common story is how when they came to Kelley as a freshman, they got a little wake up call. What? You mean I am not the only high school student who excelled at everything?  I was the bomb in high school- now I am just a bomb among many bombs? Awe…it is so cute when they get this wake up call, because the flash of reality is both fun to watch but also a moment of great maturity for them.  Guess what? You won’t always be the shining star. There will be times when you are going to be in a support role (see where I am going with this?) It does not mean you are not a leader or a star in your own right if you aren't always the one calling the shots or in the limelight.

To me, serving in a support role is a major component of humility. Some people have a hard time being in a support role and trying not to give themselves some kind of billing. The best support people just do their “job” and don’t expect or even necessarily want recognition. So that bench warmer “nomenclature” that has a negative feel for some people, is really a great opportunity to look at things differently (here is the disclaimer- I know there are kids who have been on the bench who maybe don’t deserve to be there- this is where the crappy coach stories come in, but nevertheless there are still some life lessons to be taught and learned that will benefit players years down the road.)

You know what a future employer of your child would want to hear about their B squad days? I stuck with it. I came to every practice not expecting to play in the games, but expecting to help my team get stronger. I cheered and got water bottles for the starters. During time outs I got off the bench and went to the huddle.  (And my mom only had to wash my uniform twice during the season, so that made her happy.) I am someone you can count on. I am someone who will come to work with the same positive attitude: Every. Single. Day.  Not a bad employee to have, huh?

My daughter has been a starter in one sport and a bench warmer on others. I am proud of both equally because of how she handles herself in both roles- the same.  She gets it- maybe because we have talked about it, and (another disclaimer) we have had great coaches, parents, and teammates through this experience- all the stars aligned in this scenario- that doesn't always happen. If it doesn't, then you have to fill those stars in.

As Flo (yes, "Progressive Insurance Flo") says, “Sprinkles are for winners”.  It’s important for kids to know, some days will be sprinkle-less, and that quite simply is life. You can still be a star minus the sprinkles.

What running the Indy mini meant to me...

I know there are a lot of people who accomplish a half marathon in their life time. A lot of people run many 13.1 mile races, and then go on to full marathons. So my story is not by any means special in the grand scheme of things but in my singular world, finishing this race signaled a passage of a long chapter of self-doubt while watching others achieve what I had only daydreamed about.

When a colleague at work sent me this email:

“Don’t say no right away, but I really want to start running again. Would you be interested in training for the Indy mini with me?”

I immediately said yes, and then immediately thought, “Can I really do it this time?” You see, I have signed up for several half marathons only to downgrade to the 5K the day before because I had failed to train properly (aka had given up on my training) and could not have possibly run that distance without hurting myself or with any sense of pride.

Within a day of that email, she had a spreadsheet of our training. (Eunice has run half and full marathons before, but had not run in about four years.) I trusted her knowledge and thought this was the best shot I have had in about five years of actually getting this done.  We started training in November for the mini in May.  That is a long time to train, and to think.

We started training that far in advance because a mile was a challenge at that point, and we wanted plenty of time to build up to long runs and to have some grace time (getting sick, taking care of kids, vacations, etc.) Meeting at 6:30 a.m. on a street corner, in the cold, to run just a mile seemed pretty ridiculous (it took more time to get ready than to run) but we stuck to our plan.

Over the many weeks and months to come, we had good runs and not so good runs, and we got to know each other really well. If you have ever trained with someone for a long period of time, you know that you develop a special bond. You can start reading the other person, and knowing when they need a little pep talk.  Eunice knew exactly when I was struggling and wanted to stop and she would say just the right thing to make me keep going…” I can see houses that means we are almost to the street. ”Or “Only 30 seconds until we break, you got this.”  And I in turn would offer her comic relief, often in the form of inappropriate topics we could never discuss at work or with other people around. She knew I might drop a couple of f-bombs on our long runs, and I usually got really cranky on the home stretch, but if you have the right training partner it all just clicks.

The week before the race my excitement and nervousness kept building. Am I really going to do this? I had trained for six months, I could not possibly train more. This will be my first bib with my name on it! What will it feel like when I cross the finish line? Am I going to feel like quitting at mile 5? 

Eunice and I go up to Indy the night before, we’ve booked a nice hotel and reservations at a great Italian restaurant to carb up before the race.  After picking up our race packets, we settle in our room, read a little and turn in. I start running in my dreams.  I wake up sporadically all through the night until the alarm goes off.  I try to act relaxed but my heart is pounding and I start to mentally go through the race.

As we leave the hotel, the weather could not be better. Despite the original forecast of rain, it is now overcast and cool, a little humid.  I do not run well in heat, so the absent sun is a blessing. We make our way to our corral…the amount of people is mind boggling but adds to the excitement. Once we are in our corral we take some pictures and I just try to absorb it all in. I have never been big on crowds, and with 35,000 people racing this is not where I would normally choose to be, but you can feel the collectiveness of all the people getting ready to run, and very surprisingly I feel like I am about to run with a few 1,000 close running partners. The national anthem plays and I already get emotional thinking about finishing, because at that moment, I know, without a doubt, I will.

During the next 2 plus hours, I get to experience a half marathon that goes beyond my daydreams. Not only are there countless neighborhood supporters, volunteers who cheer you on as they give you water, police and security personnel protecting you, but there are the thousands of bodies doing just what you are doing- trying to get to that finish line, and along the way soaking it all in.  Personal bests, first times, friends running with friends, mother/daughter teams, husbands and wives, race walkers, grandmas and grandpas…the list goes on.

Along the way, I have a few struggle points, but they are brief and I am surprised at how good I actually feel. Then comes mile 12. I see the sign and realize I am just 1.1 miles away from the finish line. Eunice says, “We are almost there”, and I feel the emotional breakdown (along with my legs) coming.

It is by far the longest feeling mile of the entire race.  Less than a mile from the finish line, just like during one of our long training runs, I start cussing. “Where is the freaking finish line- I can’t see it!” And just like during one of our long training runs, Eunice knows exactly what to say- “It’s there, just past this bridge. We got this.” Calm and reassuring.

I take a deep breath, settle down, and then I see it. As we get closer, I am looking for my husband and kids.  I almost pass them before I look over and see them cheering. We cross the finish line together. High fives, hugs, tears and that awesome medal come all at once.

It is not until the next day that it all sinks in. I re-run the race many times in my head- the people I saw along the course and the many people I ran beside during those 13.1 miles. I am extremely grateful that I finally realized this dream and forever thankful for all those who helped me along the way. To those dream runners out there, who say “I can barely run to my mailbox and back.” Well, that is all you have to do to get started, you then just have to keep choosing a farther mailbox to run to!  And, as for me, I am going to keep running. It took me too long to get to this point and I don’t want to give all that training up- and as my, oh so wise, training partner pointed out- “you’re half way to a marathon now!”