We recently got back from a vacation to the beach. It was a wonderful time with the whole family. If your family is like mine, most days you can’t drag the kids out of the bed in the morning. But at the beach, the kids (grandkids in this case) were up well before the adults.
My high school football coach died this week. He was 91 and his health had been in decline for a while. If you’ve followed this column, you know my story and the influence he had on my life.
Core strength. Everybody that spends time in a fitness center has heard the term. It’s been around a long time. But maybe misunderstood.
I got a different and somewhat mean-spirited question a couple of weeks ago. “What are you trying to prove?” What do you mean? “I mean all this biking stuff and it always seems like you’re doing something … hiking, traveling. It seems like a man your age should start slowing down.”
I cleaned out my truck last week. Even ran it through one of those car wash things. I do that about once a year, whether it needs it or not. The accumulated junk is massive.
Diet and nutrition. Are there any two things in the world where there has been more conflicting information put out there than these?
I have a bit of a confession to make. I’m not a big fan of T-ball. You know the game. Baseball or softball. Kids, 6-7 years old. Or younger. For most, their first foray into team sports.
I attended a track meet recently. Actually, it was a middle school track meet. I was there to cover the high school baseball game next door but I had two granddaughters competing in the track meet so I stuck around the track meet until they ran.
I’m a big fan of the magazine Men’s Journal. Yeah, I know…still reading magazines makes me a dinosaur. I do actually read printed material. And I love the feel of a newspaper. Part of the joy of Sunday morning is getting a real newspaper in the mailbox.
I’m hard of hearing. I wear hearing aids. It isn’t just an old man thing (although I qualify in that category). I’ve had hearing aids since I was 40. It probably had to do with spending a lot of time on a tractor. Or playing in a rock band (true story).
I’m not a gifted cyclist, but I’m a good cyclist. What does that mean? It means that I don’t have a lot of talent for the sport. I don’t have a big capacity for endurance activities. Never did.
I recently attended a physical therapy meeting in Austin, Texas known as the Graham Sessions. Named after my friend and fellow physical therapist Patrick Graham, the Graham Sessions is a meeting of 100 physical therapists from around the country who come together to dissect and try to solve …
I have a bum right knee. It all started in 1968, with a football injury. My last knee surgery on that knee was 1995. It doesn’t hurt very often, but it doesn’t always work so well. Watching me run is painful by itself. I think the Maryville High football coaches have a video somewhere of me …
I want to be around people that are always trying to get better. Those people that are trying to get more informed (better educated). Those people that are trying to be better people. Those people that are trying to get better at whatever they do.
I missed John Wilson Huffman’s Eagle ceremony yesterday afternoon. I had a previous commitment. I would really like to have been there. John Wilson is one of my favorite kids.
You might know that I head into work really early. I’m not going to say how early because it would either sound like bragging or whining. Let’s just say that it is really early. I love to get to the office, set up my computer, make coffee, and get my day started early. Sleep is not one of my…
A week ago today, a local fellow was riding a bicycle along a country road in south Blount County.
When I was a teenager, we were always looking for a place to play pickup basketball. There was an outdoor court at Mr. Don P. Smith’s house. Same at the Junior High. We had “ways” to get into two gyms in town that had long been closed down.
I was inspired this week by coach Dabo Swiney’s words offered during a press conference following his football team’s national championship game. (Yes, I’m a huge Clemson fan. You might remember that my son played football there.) He talked about how his hometown of Pelham, Ala., shaped him.
Apparently that column I did a couple of weeks ago about yelling parents resonated with a lot of folks. I believe I received more mail and comments on that one than any I’ve done in 33-plus years (yeah, hard to believe that I’ve been writing this column that long).
If you know me, you know I’m not real big on New Year’s Resolutions. I pursue health with a dogged persistence. Year round. But maybe Resolutions work for you. Great. All I ask is that you don’t be one of those people that joins a gym in January, only to fail to show up in February.
I was sitting with one of my granddaughters last week, watching one of her siblings play basketball. Behind us was a dad who yelled at his son the entire game. He was mostly encouraging, but called constantly to his son to give him tips and encourage him to “take it to the rim.” This dad nev…
As I start writing this, I have no idea where it might end up. Such is the life of a writer with a lot to say but with a brain spinning around a whole bunch of ideas and can’t seem to land on just one. Here goes.
I don’t want this to seem dark and gloomy. I want it to be something else entirely. But some life experiences this week caused me to think of my dad, who died in 1997.
It is widely assumed that eating disorders affect only females. Statistics tell us otherwise. In fact, almost one in three people that struggle with an eating disorder is male. Yet, with the stigma that it is a “female” disorder, a lot of males do not seek treatment.
I have a friend who is agonizing over how to best raise her son. (Haven’t a lot of us been down that road?) In particular, she wants to make sure that he is an active youngster and, as a result of that, becomes an active adult.
I took my youngest granddaughter to a soccer game recently. It was the Maryville Lady Rebels sub-state game against Science Hill that they won 3-0, qualifying them for the state tournament.
I just found out I was one of “those people.” You might know one of them. Those people with chronic pain. People who may have fallen into opioid addiction because of that chronic pain.
With all due to respect to one of the greatest speeches ever given (Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream”), I want to offer a glimpse of my dreams.
A couple of weeks ago, I shared this space with Richard Wallace. He closed with “this doesn’t ever get any easier.” He was talking about exercise and the pursuit of good health.
It was 16 years ago this week — Oct. 3, 2002. Clemson was playing Florida State in Tallahassee. My son was playing left guard for the Tigers. It was midway through the second quarter, and Clemson was leading.
Not too long ago, I wrote a column about staying active regardless of your age. Rick Wallace of Townsend sent me a really great letter in response. I’ve never done this before but I want to offer his letter as my column this week. Here, in his words:
I happen to believe that sports are an essential component to a life well lived. A lot of that means participating in sports, but we also get a lot of pleasure in being spectators. Sometimes that’s all we can do. I’ll never ride in the Tour de France, but I like to watch it and keep up with …
This week, I watched Randall Cobb turn a routine catch into a 75-yard touchdown. I knew that Randall was a tremendous football player in high school and knew that Tennessee was making a big mistake in not signing him.
What is your purpose in life? What were you put on Earth to do? I’ve seen young folks that seem to have figured that out. I’ve seen old folks still looking for it.
The recent passing of Dr. Homer Isbell was met with great sadness in our community for a lot of reasons. Only a part of that was the medical care he rendered.
I can hear it now. After the last four columns in which I wrote about various life lessons, maybe with a sports twist, my wife will have said somewhere along the way: “Those are all nice, but you need to write about sports and injuries and that sort of thing.”
A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about getting out of your comfort zone. The gist of that one was that if you want to be a better athlete, you’ve got to get outside of your comfort zone. To do things that you don’t routinely do. To push your personal limits.
I had the opportunity to speak to a group of physical therapy professionals last week at our national association’s annual meeting. A friend and I had presented at the same meeting last year on “Finding Your Purpose in Life.” Our follow-up to that was this year’s “Impossible is Nothing.”