Life before insanity

When I go out on my morning walks (on the mornings I don’t jog with my buddies), I listen to my iPod (hello, 2005!) and toggle between podcasts (or, as my kids would say, “your boring podcasts”) and music (or, as my kids would say, “what, Gov’t Mule again?!”). And so it was this morning in the steamy humidity of July 9. The first podcast was The Daily from the New York Times, where creepy-voiced host Michael Barbaro (it’s actually an extremely well-done podcast, one of my first go-tos) discussed how and why the idea of Covid being spread by asymptomatic carriers was initially dismissed, panned and even vilified by the World Health Organization (oh, THEM) and multiple other renowned medical minds -- way back in late February and early March. As often happens on these solo walks, I threw up my hands in disgust and frustration. How could we have missed that, and how can folks still not believe it? Especially given where we are today.

After a few more angst-ridden podcasts, it was time for music. Gov’t Mule, random mix of their vast and awesome collection. The first song that was randomly selected was “Life Before Insanity” from the long-ago album of the same name. I’ve heard this song dozens of times, but this morning the lyrics really hit home. “All I see are faces, a sea of faces. Surrounded by the memory of life before insanity.”  These lines harken me to last night’s Zoom call with the women’s XC team, and in anticipation of tonight’s Zoom call with the men’s XC team, and every other friggin Zoom or WebEx call of the past four months. Sea of faces. 

Oh. And in case you didn’t notice, yesterday was not a good day for college athletics, with the two major headlines being:

--Ivy League cancels fall sports, won’t consider resumption of athletics until Jan. 1, 2021. This was highly anticipated but still seismic in its scope. More on that after this …

--Stanford University cuts 11 sports, permanently. Whoa. Talk about seismic! Stanford? Stanford! One of the most prestigious, richest schools in the country? Cutting sports? Unheard of. Oh sure, you can say they were “fringe” or “niche” sports (except, maybe, men’s rowing), but I would dispute that: Dozens of Olympic medals were garnered by Stanford athletes in these so-called niche sports. And again: It’s Stanford, cutting sports. Doesn’t matter if it’s the chess club or pickleball, that’s big news!

But it’s the Ivy League announcement that potentially hits closer to home. If you recall four months ago (seems like four years ago), it was the Ivy League that first canceled its basketball tournament. They were vilified as being over-reactionary. But then within days, all the dominoes fell. Now in July, they are not the first domino – several D2 and D3 schools and conferences have already said no to fall sports – but they are the first in D1 and other college administrators were watching closely the Ivy decision. The sentiment is that the dominoes will not fall as quickly nor as surely as they did in March. But in case you haven’t noticed, this virus isn’t going away, and in some ways is getting worse rather than better. So this announcement carries some gravitas, for sure.

So. Could this hit close to home? Are our fall sports seasons in jeopardy? Probably more today than they were Tuesday, that’s for sure. But nothing is certain. We all know that. The MAAC, our conference, has already been out in front with a return-to-play policy, posted last week. This means we are planning, full steam ahead, for fall sports. As of now, that remains. But the stark reality is, we currently don’t have a cross country schedule. No meets, no venues are currently confirmed as of this writing. And now, some of the best schools in our Northeast and Mid-Atlantic region – the Ivy League schools – will no longer be running this fall. So where does that leave us? Longing for life before the insanity of this pandemic, that’s where. These thoughts circulated through my brain as I listened to Warren Haynes’ mournful lyrics:   

All I feel are clouds, surrounded by clouds
Yesterday's anger is the sadness of today
Our lives were filled with summer and laughter
Now are smiles are grey

Yesterday’s anger is the sadness of today. Indeed. We still don’t know what tomorrow will bring; we still might yet have a cross country season. But right now, life before insanity sure sounds pretty good to me.