Not at all a natural athlete, I was pretty awful in the beginning. Someone suggested the high jump the day the field events were introduced since the mats were in the boys gym. My very first try ever, I sent the metal bar flying to the floor, clanging so loudly that it echoed through the entire room. Everyone in the gym turned around to see who had caused the disturbance, which was embarrassing as hell. I swore I'd never, ever try the event again.
But I did. I got better and eventually qualified for my first state meet the next year - and bombed miserably there. I grew to love the sport because it challenged me to put my best into it each and every time.
The summer before my junior year, my mom and some of the other track parents somehow found the Empire Track and Field Camp for Girls (this was the early 1980s and way before Google). For an entire week near Lake Champlain, NY, four of my teammates and I learned about our individual event specifics, nutrition, lifting weights and more. It was also where I met George Horne, a collegiate All-American high jumper who was a coach at Temple University in Philadelphia. Knowledgeable about the event to a fault, he was extremely witty and personable, too. He gave us the notes he'd taken on all of the high jumpers that outlined the things we did well and the things we needed to work on. He helped me understand the event better by encouraging me to train smarter and with specificity. He also suggested I run cross country to get stronger.
And I did. I did well with it and did get stronger to boot. My junior track year went so well that when we met again the next summer, he let me know that Temple U. was watching my performances on the track with interest. I went into my senior year with a plan to narrow in on what I wanted to major in, learn more about the school and apply there. When the decision letter arrived just before Thanksgiving, I was too scared to open it. I had applied to other schools and gotten into them, but this was really where I wanted to go. My mom sat with me as I opened it. We saw the "Congratulations!" at the same time but the full athletic grant-in-aid details came a little later.
Academically and athletically, things went extremely well at Temple. I fell in love with photojournalism and magazine writing/editing and eventually, made a career using both disciplines. I also became a six-time NCAA Division I All-America athlete, moving to #10 in the US at one point and qualifying for an Olympic Trials (I finished sixth). None of that would have been possible without George. He literally became a guiding force in helping me move safely through that space between adolescence and adulthood and a pivotal part of the village that helped raise me.
Last July, I went to a screening for "Sisters on Track," a movie about three runners and their growth in the sport and life. During the post-movie chat with the filmmakers, we were given the following assignment: Recognize someone who has had an impact on/made a difference in your life. It took me two seconds to figure out that my homage belonged to George and the chance meeting with him that most certainly changed my trajectory. He made me appreciate the value of fine-tuning details and the necessity of hard work to get where you want to be. We did regularly chat via phone/text, but I took the picture above about a decade ago when we met at Penn Relays. Last year, when he was dealing with some health challenges, I posted the photo and the "recognize the impactful people" tribute online but, being mindful of how important it is to give folks their flowers while they are here to enjoy them, I shared it with him, too. I'm sure he understood what he meant to me before, but I'm really, really glad I got a chance to tell him.
This past February, my track sister/former Temple U teammate and I went to see him. He and his wife had moved to Myrtle Beach from their home in New Jersey and we just wanted to see how he was really doing. His chemo regiment had made his feet and hands blister, which made walking difficult, as well as playing golf - one of his most favorite pastimes. The gleam in his eye and his incredible sense of humor were still there, but it was plain to see that some things were more difficult for him to do than they use to be. While sitting in the dining room munching on the pastries we'd brought over, he told us about the new table they'd ordered and how he hoped to be here still when it arrived - a reminder to us that not only was time short, but he knew it was and maybe wanted us to know, too.
He passed on July 16 - almost a year to the day of the movie screening assignment. When I tell you it hit me like a sledgehammer, I'm not exaggerating a bit. My track sister said it felt like losing a parent and I agree. I've been so out of sorts for almost a week now, too, like I don't quite know what to do with the fact that he's just not here.
I'm far from the only athlete whose life George heavily influenced. There is a literal sea of women whom he helped parent. He coached for over 30 years, "raising" more high school state champions and both high school and collegiate All-America athletes than you can shake a stick at. He was the proverbial "You can do this!" guy who taught us all how to believe in ourselves both on and off the track. For each of us, he was there exactly when we needed him. Many, many of us coach now as a result. His legacy will live on in more ways than one.
So many similarities between track and karate. Both paths can veer off on tangents and even be a bit weedy at times - but the mind/body connection are definitely kindred spirits. I know without a doubt that without my track journey, I wouldn't have had the courage or focus to begin my karate one.
For me, there are always living signs left behind when someone close to me passes away. When I lost my mom, a beautiful, red cardinal accompanied us out of the cemetery the day of her funeral. For my dad, it's always been roses - as he sent me a dozen the day I landed my first staff magazine editing gig. Still feeling off-kilter at yesterday's summer team practice, butterflies kept fluttering by. There were at least a half a dozen within minutes of stepping onto the track. Knowing I wanted to finally sit down and write this today, I saw another flutter by while walking the dog.
I hear you, George - and thank you. For everything.
