I really miss Steve Irwin.
I admit, his show, The Crocodile Hunter, was due south on the "sophistication scale"of Masterpiece Theatre on PBS.
But I loved the show.
And so did millions of others.
Irwin didn't just tell you the FACTS about a mean crocodile.
He would grab the beast by it's tail and tell you with a child-like exhuberance in how many seconds it could kill him---while keeping a smile!
You couldn't help but love the guy.
Like any good teacher, I think he really knew his subject.
And he was definitely a showman who knew how to please a crowd.
But I don't think it was his knowledge...
Or his ability to entertain....
That made him a great teacher.
I think Steve Irwin's greatness was in his ability to get you CARE about the subject before you LEARNED about the subject.
He once said:
"I believe that education is all about being excited about something. Seeing passion and enthusiasm helps push an educational message."
As a community college instructor and as a parent, I'm always searching for better ways to communicate.
Be it the accounting equation to my students....
Or how to catch a trout with my 7-year old daughter...
But as any teacher knows...
And any parent knows....
This aint easy.
Today's students, like today's children, have little patience for incompetence.
And simply KNOWING the subject matter isn't gonna impress them either.
The same goes for fancy PowerPoint presentations and slick videos as well.
I think Steve Irwin instinctively knew this.
He knew that a simple presentation delivered with the HEART, delivered more punch than a presentation delivered only with the BRAIN.
No matter the subject.
This is my first semester teaching students how to train for their first marathon.
As a former "bean-counter" I find myself resisting the urge to get too technical too soon....
Lactic throeshholds, VO2Max, simple carbs versus complex carbs.....
All very SMART information....
But then I contemplate what Steve Irwin would do...
He would first get them to CARE to run...
And THEN teach them HOW.
Just like he did with crocodiles.
AMJ
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Friday, January 4, 2013
Taking the Beach
My old boss and good friend, Claude Bergeron, died just before the holidays.
He was 80 years old.
His last message to me a few weeks before he died is still on my cell phone.
Claude was not the Brooks Brothers, 3-piece suit, corporate executive kind of a guy. He didn't use "MBA-Speak" to talk about "leveraging synergies" or "maximizing core competencies." He didn't own a BMW with an alarm, but drove a pick-up with a pit bull named Sharky riding shotgun.
Claude was also one of the smartest guys I have ever known--and I can absolutely tell you I learned a hell of a lot more about the principles of success and pushing through adversity from him than I did from my MBA program.
Back in 1997, Claude and his wife Barbara opened the only federally funded community health center for the uninsured population in Klamath County in Southern Oregon. Before Claude and his wife opened the clinic, if you were pregnant and on medicaid--or uninsured--you drove 60 miles over the Siskiyou Mountains to nearby Medford for prenatal care--an especially harrowing journey during a snowstorm--because very few docs in Klamath County were taking new medicaid patients.
Claude hired me as the Finance Director after their second month of operations to set up the Accounting Department. I was 28 years old and had never done a "start-up."
But Claude believed in me before I did.
And I am grateful.
That first year was terrifying as we were flooded with new patients--we could barely keep up.
To meet the demand, we kept adding docs and relocating to newer, bigger--and more expensive-- locations. As the "the numbers guy" I was terrified as we hemorrhaged cash from our exploding payroll and rent.
I fretted about everything--the payroll, the bills, our account receivable balance, the federal reports that were due...
But Claude never worried.
For this was not Claude's first rodeo for he and his wife had opened several community health centers in Northern California and Southern Oregon throughout the years--health centers that would grow to the size of small hospitals.
Serving THOUSANDS of grateful families.
In his typical Redd Fox demeanor, Claude would assuage my fears by ordering me to "stop thinking like a bean-counter" and start thinking like an ENTREPRENEUR.
He would remind me that a "start-up" required a "take the beach" mind-set. "We are the Marines, Andrew," he would say. "In a start-up, things are messy and bloody...but you can't get lost in the weeds...you have to keep your eye on the goal of victory by first TAKING THE BEACH."
I love that metaphor.
As I find it applies to many endeavors--including running.
Not getting overwhelmed with the small chores and keeping focused on the big goal.
Taking the beach.
The emails, the phone calls, the forms that need to be completed and signed in triplicate....the laundry, the bills...the hill-work, the speed work...all "necessary" chores that indeed need to be done.
But chores that can easily decimate a vision and make us miss the big picture.
Our goal.
Taking the beach.
The Spring semester starts in two weeks.
I feel some trepidation as I am piloting an experimental business course where the final exam is completing a 26.2 mile marathon (I am serious).
But I can already hear Claude's calming words as I finish typing the course syllabus...
"Stop thinking like a "bean-counter" Andrew...and focus on TAKING THE BEACH."
Thanks Claude.
AMJ
He was 80 years old.
His last message to me a few weeks before he died is still on my cell phone.
Claude was not the Brooks Brothers, 3-piece suit, corporate executive kind of a guy. He didn't use "MBA-Speak" to talk about "leveraging synergies" or "maximizing core competencies." He didn't own a BMW with an alarm, but drove a pick-up with a pit bull named Sharky riding shotgun.
Claude was also one of the smartest guys I have ever known--and I can absolutely tell you I learned a hell of a lot more about the principles of success and pushing through adversity from him than I did from my MBA program.
Back in 1997, Claude and his wife Barbara opened the only federally funded community health center for the uninsured population in Klamath County in Southern Oregon. Before Claude and his wife opened the clinic, if you were pregnant and on medicaid--or uninsured--you drove 60 miles over the Siskiyou Mountains to nearby Medford for prenatal care--an especially harrowing journey during a snowstorm--because very few docs in Klamath County were taking new medicaid patients.
Claude hired me as the Finance Director after their second month of operations to set up the Accounting Department. I was 28 years old and had never done a "start-up."
But Claude believed in me before I did.
And I am grateful.
That first year was terrifying as we were flooded with new patients--we could barely keep up.
To meet the demand, we kept adding docs and relocating to newer, bigger--and more expensive-- locations. As the "the numbers guy" I was terrified as we hemorrhaged cash from our exploding payroll and rent.
I fretted about everything--the payroll, the bills, our account receivable balance, the federal reports that were due...
But Claude never worried.
For this was not Claude's first rodeo for he and his wife had opened several community health centers in Northern California and Southern Oregon throughout the years--health centers that would grow to the size of small hospitals.
Serving THOUSANDS of grateful families.
In his typical Redd Fox demeanor, Claude would assuage my fears by ordering me to "stop thinking like a bean-counter" and start thinking like an ENTREPRENEUR.
He would remind me that a "start-up" required a "take the beach" mind-set. "We are the Marines, Andrew," he would say. "In a start-up, things are messy and bloody...but you can't get lost in the weeds...you have to keep your eye on the goal of victory by first TAKING THE BEACH."
I love that metaphor.
As I find it applies to many endeavors--including running.
Not getting overwhelmed with the small chores and keeping focused on the big goal.
Taking the beach.
The emails, the phone calls, the forms that need to be completed and signed in triplicate....the laundry, the bills...the hill-work, the speed work...all "necessary" chores that indeed need to be done.
But chores that can easily decimate a vision and make us miss the big picture.
Our goal.
Taking the beach.
The Spring semester starts in two weeks.
I feel some trepidation as I am piloting an experimental business course where the final exam is completing a 26.2 mile marathon (I am serious).
But I can already hear Claude's calming words as I finish typing the course syllabus...
"Stop thinking like a "bean-counter" Andrew...and focus on TAKING THE BEACH."
Thanks Claude.
AMJ
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
"It Had to Get Done."
We kicked off the first day of 2013 at the Rooney Trailhead at the base of Green Mountain.
Nothing like some gnarly hill-work to bring in the new year.
Start time: 6:30am--just before sunrise.
Outside temperature: 12 degrees--NOT including the wind.
I admit, we were serving up heaping portions of smack-talk and smug attitudes about our early morning dedication whilst adjusting our headlamps in the darkness.
But smack-talk and smugness is something the running gods rarely tolerate.
As we approached the trailhead to began our run up the icy trail, we noticed a frost-covered 4x4 in the parking lot.
An abandoned vehicle--left by a party goer from too many New Year's eve festivities we assumed.
We assumed wrong.
For in the distance was an approaching runner...
On his way DOWN the trail...
FINISHING his run...
As we were just STARTING ours...
In the darkness.
On New Year's Day no less.
This guy redefined the word "dedication."
As the runner approached the trailhead to get climb in his frost-covered jeep, I shouted "good work man."
After removing a face mask, SHE responded; " It had to get done."
She closed the door, and drove off.
"It had to get done."
Perhaps it was the dark and the cold, but those four simple words screamed an impressive and indeed a humbling resolve that morning.
A resolve that ran deep.
Real deep.
A resolve that said no hill, no weather, no lousy boss, no lousy economy, not even a damned disease is going to discourage me from the work I need to do to get to the place I need to be.
I don't know where resolve like that comes from.
I wish it came in a bottle so I could splash it all over myself each morning like Aqua Velva.
For imagine possessing this type of resolve in our lives OFF the trails.
Our work.
Our home.
On any day...
Even when it's 12-degrees.
AMJ
Nothing like some gnarly hill-work to bring in the new year.
Start time: 6:30am--just before sunrise.
Outside temperature: 12 degrees--NOT including the wind.
I admit, we were serving up heaping portions of smack-talk and smug attitudes about our early morning dedication whilst adjusting our headlamps in the darkness.
But smack-talk and smugness is something the running gods rarely tolerate.
As we approached the trailhead to began our run up the icy trail, we noticed a frost-covered 4x4 in the parking lot.
An abandoned vehicle--left by a party goer from too many New Year's eve festivities we assumed.
We assumed wrong.
For in the distance was an approaching runner...
On his way DOWN the trail...
FINISHING his run...
As we were just STARTING ours...
In the darkness.
On New Year's Day no less.
This guy redefined the word "dedication."
As the runner approached the trailhead to get climb in his frost-covered jeep, I shouted "good work man."
After removing a face mask, SHE responded; " It had to get done."
She closed the door, and drove off.
"It had to get done."
Perhaps it was the dark and the cold, but those four simple words screamed an impressive and indeed a humbling resolve that morning.
A resolve that ran deep.
Real deep.
A resolve that said no hill, no weather, no lousy boss, no lousy economy, not even a damned disease is going to discourage me from the work I need to do to get to the place I need to be.
I don't know where resolve like that comes from.
I wish it came in a bottle so I could splash it all over myself each morning like Aqua Velva.
For imagine possessing this type of resolve in our lives OFF the trails.
Our work.
Our home.
On any day...
Even when it's 12-degrees.
AMJ
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