A Comeback Story, Part 2
by Steve McGill
Since last month’s issue of The Hurdle Magazine, where I wrote about my “comeback” to hurdling, I’ve continued to put in some work and get some reps in over 27-inch hurdles prior to my sessions with my athletes. I missed some time over holiday break, as I fell ill with a sinus infection a day after break began. I’d never had a sinus infection before, so I didn’t know what the heck was going on. I just knew that I felt like my head was exploding, I couldn’t breathe through mode, and I was using up an entire tissue box per day for the first three or four days. As a result, I was canceling training sessions with my athletes and basically lying in bed all day.
As a result, my once-a-week hurdling sessions ( if you want to call them that) were put on hold for two weeks, so I’ve only gotten in two sessions since the last issue of the magazine was published. A session will generally last about 30 minutes: I’ll stretch thoroughly before I leave the house, and then when I arrive at the track I’ll warm up for twenty minutes and then start going over the hurdles. I’ll start with one hurdle and build up to five. I usually get in two reps over five, at the very end of the session. By that time, one of my athletes has arrived so they can film my last (and best) rep.
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In this article I want to get into how these mini hurdling sessions have been benefiting me, and how they have incidentally (accidentally) helped others.
For me, hurdling has always been a spiritual thing. It’s a way to feel joy, to express joy, to walk a path of discovery, to open my mind to new possibilities, to reconnect with myself and to re-establish my identity. Yes, I’m a teacher and a coach, a husband and a father, a brother, a colleague, a friend, a mentor, a writer. But at my deepest core, I’m a hurdler. That’s the identity I most identify with. So coming back to hurdling has been a precious experience for me in that regard.
In my most recent session, I arrived at the track a little before 10:30, and I had three athletes coming at 11 — two hurdlers and one distance runner, all on my school team. Two of the athletes arrived about ten minutes early, right when I was about to transition into the heater of the workout — the two reps over five. When the distance runner walked into the track, she smiled and waved and said “Hi Coach McGill!” Walking back toward the starting line after a rep over three, I waved without smiling and mumbled some instructions to myself regarding what to focus on the next rep. My athlete looked at me funny, perhaps feeling slightly offended, and then took off on her warmup lap. Not until later did I realize that I was so locked in my next rep that I had barely acknowledged her existence.
And I also realized that that’s the me I miss. The athlete. The hurdler. Coaching is cool, don’t get me wrong, but there’s nothing like doing it yourself. There’s nothing like getting lost in my own hurdle world — a world of my own creation. I live a life in which I am always in the service of others. My life revolves around helping other people to find their way, helping them to find and bring out the best in themselves, encouraging them, mentoring them, pushing them beyond their comfort levels. My 30-minute sessions provide a window of time when I can be the focal point, when I can focus on myself without feeling guilty about it. (The guilt is largely internal, not from other people; that’s just how I am).
Love is a great motivating factor. When my students convinced me to take them outside for some hurdling lessons back in early November, and then had me go over a hurdle to demonstrate how it’s done, that one rep over that one hurdle on the damp, mushy soccer field brought back the thrill of running over hurdles that I thought I had long ago moved on from. When someone has a deep love for something, there’s nothing rational about it. It’s a feeling deep inside that always finds its way to the surface, and it has nothing to do with goals, dreams, or ambitions in regards to competition.
Sophie, the distance runner who came out to practice that day, loves to run. She’s a senior and will be running at a DI college next year. When I first started with her in her sophomore year, she was a runner, a swimmer, and also a rock climber, who took all three very seriously. She would leave track practice and go straight to rock climbing practice. But as she grew older, her love of running overwhelmed those other sports. On race day, she’s always locked in and ready to go regardless of the size of the meet. Last week we were scheduled to go to a polar bear meet (an indoor meet with indoor distances but held on an outdoor track — they’re common here in North Carolina, where there is only one indoor track in the whole state), but it got canceled due to severe weather. I texted Sophie that morning letting her know of the cancellation, and she texted me back like five minutes later explaining there was another polar bear meet the following day that she had found on Milesplit. Could we go to that one?
That’s love. That’s inspiring. We went to the meet the next day, and she ran personal bests in both the 1600 and the 3200 in 45-degree weather.
One day not too long ago at school, before the first class began, I saw a sophomore named Izzy walking down the hall with a lacrosse stick over her shoulder. Izzy is a standout lacrosse player anywho has played on national teams and will undoubtedly play in college. Seeing her walk down the hall with her lacrosse stick in tow reminded me of Sophie’s love of running and my own love of hurdling. I stopped Izzy when she passed my classroom door and said, “Hey Izzy, come here.” She approached me and I said, “Your love of lacrosse inspires me. Don’t ever change.” She thanked me with surprise and gratitude in her eyes. “I think you just made my day, Mr. McGill,” she said.
An unexpected consequence of my recent hurdling exploits is that I too have inspired people. On YouTube and Instagram, I’ve received nothing but positive and encouraging comments from viewers. On those platforms as well as in one-on-one conversations, I’ve been told that I’m an inspiration. I honestly didn’t think that seeing a 57-year-old man boppity-bop over 27-inch hurdles would inspire anyone, but it has. I guess part of the reason is that people had never seen me hurdle. So it’s like wow, this fool actually has pretty good form. And for my students, former students, athletes, and former athletes, it’s just a fun thing to see. For people my age, it serves as a reminder that as long as there is still tread on the tires, we’ve gotta keep on driving.
At the end of the day, asking a hurdler why he hurdles is like asking a robin why it sings, or asking a dog why it wants to go for a walk. Even old robins keep on singing, though maybe not as loudly nor for as long. Even old dogs enjoy a good walk, though not at as fast a pace nor for as long.
If I do have one concrete goal I would like to accomplish in all of this, it would be to be able to execute and demonstrate the cycle-arms style of hurdling that I came up with about ten years ago and that I discuss in the last section of my book, The Art of Hurdling. I also did a YouTube video about eight years ago explaining the style, and I have had a few hurdlers able to execute the style, though never in races. This style, in which the arms cycle instead of pumping up and down, is a style that I feel will enable hurdlers at all levels to run faster races. If I can demonstrate the style so that others can copy it based on my blueprint, that would be very gratifying. That’s the legacy I want to leave behind.
So, next time I hit the track for a 30-minute session, I’ll begin to incorporate the cycle arms. Talking about it doesn’t explain it as well as doing it does.
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