Stuff like: How
was Spring Break? Did you train enough? Did you train well? No stupid crap on
the beach, I hope? Were you able to find a track to get workouts in? Road fartleks?
Is this snow (snowing here today in the
mid-Hudson Valley) gonna stick on the Vassar track and impact our workout
tomorrow? What event(s) you wanna do at Monmouth? Coach, am I gonna make the travel
squad for Colonial? What about Bucknell? Can I go home for Easter after the
meet? When do we register for fall classes? What time is practice gonna be in
the fall? Are we going to the track tomorrow at 11a or 12:30p? Do you need
drivers? Can we get a fourth van? Where are the starting blocks? What time does
the bus leave on Saturday? How many recruits have committed for next year? Hey,
I heard it’s supposed to snow again on Wednesday, will we have to go to the rail
trail instead of the track?
These are the
questions that should be swirling around my head. My phone should be buzzing with
texts about when and where to meet. Instead? Instead. I’m brewing another coffee.
At home. Flannel shirt is on, still untucked. Kids are sleeping. What’s the
urgency for them to wake up? Trying to avoid reading the latest blaring
headlines in the New York Times. Keeping the TV off. For now. How long are we
going to be social distancing, locked away from each other? Heck man, this is
just STARTING.
Funny, isn’t it?
How much the world has changed. What Monday, March 23, 2020, would normally be
(all those questions)? What Monday, March 23, 2020, has become (a lot more
other questions, ones we never thought we’d have to pose)? Today.
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