I went on a bike ride this weekend, and in passing a parking lot of a trail head I saw an older man standing next to a car, laughing with a friend, and he looked just like my old high school running coach, “Coach.” Yes, we called him exactly that. He was (at least in front of us, a rowdy group of high school students, 13-18 years of age) stoic and commandeering, easily earning our respect so we would abide to his orders to run many laps around the track, or loops around a course. He led us through the cross country, winter track, and spring track seasons.
This weekend after I saw this reflection of him in someone else, I couldn’t see through my goggles. The tears flowed, and not quietly – it was the kind of aching, sobbing that emits from your soul unexpectedly when something you’ve shoved down deep forces itself out into the open. I found myself flying under a bridge, not able to breathe, and having opened up a well of sorrow that I hadn’t allowed myself to experience.
Coach died in 2013 while I was in graduate school. I received notice a few days before it happened, and even if it had been enough time to think about coming to say goodbye, I couldn’t go. I faced a lot of health issues, and combined with the stress of graduate school, it was too much. I was ashamed at the time for him to have seen me – I was thin and sickly, and a shadow of my previous self.
As I rode and allowed myself to experience the suppressed emotion, I remembered many things. I remembered how he would pull me aside before and after races, when I was anxious and stuck in my head, and give me a combination of tough love and logic to bring me back into the present. And side note - that particular class I championship I was stacked for events (800, 1600, and two relays) and although I didn’t do great for all of them, the 4x400 at the end was one of the fastest times of my (very short) 400 career - close to about one minute. I wasn’t a 400 meter running or sprinter, but I did love the relay. I remembered practices. Regardless of what happened during the day, at 3pm sharp I’d report to the track and find the comfort of routine. Coach helped to create the environment at practices that made running, albeit it was challenging, such a joy. I carry that joy with me to this day, which is almost 25 years later.
I realized this weekend how much I took him for granted, and the fact that he was a source of stability during my entire transition from adolescence into young adult – freshman to senior year. I saw him every day after school, and for many hours, for the Fall, Spring, and Winter, and often in the summer for training. He was the one that saw potential in me when I was undeniably the slowest on the team as a freshman. He was the one that pulled me aside when I grew 5-6 inches before my sophomore year, and told me how to add dried fruit and nuts to my died to put on some weight, because I needed to be strong. I saw him early on Saturdays for meets. He designed workouts that catered to my running style – middle distance. He was a source of support if I ever came to him with complaint. He told me he was proud of me.
I cried today because I never properly mourned his loss, the loss of someone that had been so important to me, and cared for us so deeply. I cried because I never got to say goodbye, and tell him that he gave me a backbone of stability during high school that I wouldn’t have had without him. To Coach, wherever you are, there are few people that touch our lives deeply, and you are one of them for me. I am so grateful for the time that I got to spend with you. It’s common to think that people value us based on financial support or gifts, or some requirement based on biological relation. But at the end of the day, the most valuable asset that someone can give us is their time. I will keep your memory with me always, and for the people that I love, I will also give them my support and time. And I will do a better job to tell them more frequently how important they are to me.
Suggested Citation:
Sochat, Vanessa. "For Coach." @vsoch (blog), 25 Nov 2024, https://vsoch.github.io/2024/for-coach/ (accessed 28 Nov 24).