It seems to have creeped up on me. I've been focusing all of my mental energy on the marathon that I've had little time to digest the fact that the marathon marks the end of my 5 Races in 5 Months Challenge. Five months ago, I endeavored to take on this physical challenge without any real idea that I would be able to accomplish it. I made a decision to envision myself as a person I wasn't sure I could be. And now, on the brink of 26.2 miles, I know I will achieve that. I know that whatever is worth having or worth being is worth working for and fighting for.
But my joy comes with a heavy heart. In the last month alone so many young people have taken their lives as a direct result of the bullying they have endured at school. Justin Aaberg, Billy Lucas, Seth Walsh, Asher Brown, Tyler Clementi. And, as always, my first inspiration Carl Walker Hoover. All of these young people will never have the chance to be the person they could only imagine, have the life they could only dream. I will carry their names in my heart and on my shirt through the crowd of thousands so that everyone will know their names and think of their lives.
I have wondered during these last few months if what I'm doing is enough. Will anything we do ever be enough? I am reminded of a question that was once asked. How can we continue to fight the small injustices when they come from the mother of all injustices? In this case hatred. And the answer, of course, is simply: What other choice is there?
Friday, October 1, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Misery Loves Company
I Ran the fourth race in my challenge this past weekend: the Devil's Lake Sprint Distance Triathlon. This one was a bit different, I decided to challenge my friend Dan to race it with me. I wanted to be the inspiration for someone else in the same vein that others have been an inspiration for me. For months Dan had been running, biking, and swimming to get ready for the race, his own challenge since he had not been doing those things in quite some time. The weather was awful. It was only 50 degrees, chilly and cloudy. When we started the bike, the freezing rain began. Dan struggled up the hills and I started shivering. By the time we started the run, neither of us could feel our feet. There wasn't much to do except keep each other going and laugh at our own misery. All of the silly details of a race, the gear, the water, the nutrition, the course, the timing fell away. Everything distilled down to two buddies making the most of an awful situation. Dan finished the course in record time.
I left that day with two thoughts. The first is that misery loves company. Not in the snide way that when you are feeling miserable, you feel less miserable if someone else is miserable too. Rather, when the chips are down, impossible tasks seem less impossible when you have someone who understands your burden.
The second is that often times it is not enough to achieve. In a few short weeks, I will run the marathon and this challenge will be over. I will have accomplished more physically then I ever have before. I will have raised money for a wonderful charity. But where do I go from there? I could create bigger challenges for myself, raise more money, and quite possibly those who see me do these things will be inspired. But perhaps what we need to do in this world is to give others the tools to achieve. To show them that they too can be more than themselves. Only then will a legacy continue.
This post is dedicated to the friends and allies who go out of their way to make impossible days for bullied kids feel less impossible; who weather those storms with them. It is dedicated to those friends and allies who inspire bullied kids to look outside themselves and actually remind them that they too can be more than what they think. It is dedicated to those friends and allies who light the fire for others in hopes that one by one, little by little, this world will be a brighter place.
I left that day with two thoughts. The first is that misery loves company. Not in the snide way that when you are feeling miserable, you feel less miserable if someone else is miserable too. Rather, when the chips are down, impossible tasks seem less impossible when you have someone who understands your burden.
The second is that often times it is not enough to achieve. In a few short weeks, I will run the marathon and this challenge will be over. I will have accomplished more physically then I ever have before. I will have raised money for a wonderful charity. But where do I go from there? I could create bigger challenges for myself, raise more money, and quite possibly those who see me do these things will be inspired. But perhaps what we need to do in this world is to give others the tools to achieve. To show them that they too can be more than themselves. Only then will a legacy continue.
This post is dedicated to the friends and allies who go out of their way to make impossible days for bullied kids feel less impossible; who weather those storms with them. It is dedicated to those friends and allies who inspire bullied kids to look outside themselves and actually remind them that they too can be more than what they think. It is dedicated to those friends and allies who light the fire for others in hopes that one by one, little by little, this world will be a brighter place.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Notes on a Half Ironman
It started out with rain. The kind that hangs in the trees until a wind causes more wet to drop from the sky. But despite that, in summer it is still warm. I bike the three miles to the race site, wet, apprehensive, nervous, excited, resigned to the fact that today is the day, like it or not. There are a number of housekeeping things to do before the race starts; sign in, body marking, transition area set up, eating something here and there. For me, they are the things that keep my mind off my nervousness, the things that interrupt the silent conversation in my head regarding whether or not I have trained enough or too little. This is certainly the toughest race I've attempted to date. Looking around at so many elite athletes, their bodies sculpted with dedication, it is hard not to feel intimidated. It is hard to believe that I am one of them.
Fifteen minutes before the race, everyone convenes at the water. I don't like those minutes because the swim course always appears so long and the anticipation of starting makes my nerves go into overdrive. I fight the urge to hyperventilate. My friends try to joke, to take pictures, to be supportive, whatever it takes to keep things light. Before you know it, the first waves have started and you feel swept up in a machine that only moves forward, the noise of something unknown just up ahead. And then without a fight, your face is in the water, your arms are paddling, the conversation you had with yourself about your training becomes irrelevant.
I really don't mind the swim. I stay out of the pack, try to avoid getting kicked in the head. The trip to the first buoy always feels like you're running down the hall in a horror movie and the hall just keeps getting longer and longer. It feels like it's never gonna come. But eventually, you round that first corner and things even out. You try to breathe easy, try to lengthen your stroke and concentrate on form. Since all participants were wearing the same colored caps, it is difficult to gauge my progress as one wave melts into another. That's interesting for me. 1.2 miles later, the longest distance in my swimming history, I am back on the beach heading to the transition.
On my bike now, it's time to hunker down. I'm gonna be on this thing for the next 3.5 hours. Biking for me is challenging. I'm not very fast. And so in these races, it is always a mental struggle as other racers whiz past me. My number is 369. I try to stay zen as the 400's, 500's, 600's, 700's, and 800's parad past me in succession. I want to scream, "what do they have that I don't?" I wonder if I felt worse watching them pass me, if they felt an equal amount of satisfaction knowing they were getting ahead of someone who started before they did. And yet, I am biking faster than I usually do and making strong progress. So why the comparison? Why the need to downplay my own success because someone is doing better? After 40 miles on the bike, I am getting pretty tired. I was eating power gels and drinking a ton but it wasn't giving me the boost I needed. Perhaps they were just keeping me in the game. The idea of biking another hour and then running a half marathon is now a bit daunting. It's raining and water is dripping off of my helmut and my nose. I am soaked. It's odd to think that I am in Sturgeon Bay and I still have to bike to Egg Harbor. The support from the volunteers is starting to sound empty.
And yet, oddly enough coming into transition after 56 miles of biking, I am energized for the run. I stop thinking about not being able to finish. I start to think about the beauty of this time and this moment, about the opportunity and the ability to achieve this at all. The rain has stopped and it is still cool and running just feels comfortable. I always shine on the run and this day is no different. I begin passing people and we all start encouraging each other to keep going. We run up as much of the hills as we can trying to see who will start walking first. We begin to joke with the volunteers as water stations. I can see people starting to fatigue but I am feeling great. My friends and Tony position themselves in multiple spots along the way to yell for me, push me along, tell me that I'm doing fine.
Up until this moment, I haven't thought much about why I'm doing this race. I've been caught up on alot of the technical details of just getting through; the planning, buoys, changing gears, nutrition, passing on the left, stretching. Without any of that left, my mind drifts to one person, Carl Walker Hoover. Had he not killed himself, he would be 13 now. I begin to think about what his life would be like - he would be starting high school, maybe at a new school, new friends, trying out for the freshman football team, algebra, Homecoming. Would he feel as though his past struggles would be behind him? Or would he feel as though nothing will have changed? I begin to think about what advice I would give to this young man, this teenager. How could I best tell him that races are meant to be run just like life is meant to be lived? There are bouys to round like there are milestones for us to meet. There are gears to shift, hills to climb, people who will intentionally leave us behind just like there are years in life that challenge our identity and well being. There are moments of clarity and simplicity and times to excel just like there are moments of compassion and community. There are transitions to bridge each new phase as we allow ourselves to be reinvented.
And above it all, there is the realization that there is more that connects us than divides us. For as much as we try to differentiate ourselves, to reach out from the pack, to blaze a trail that has been previously undefined, our base struggle is still the same. And for as much as we feel the need to get ahead of others, to never be last, to elevate ourselves at another's expense, our human condition is still the same and it is shared. We can create invisible lines, rules, to guide our interactions but they can be lines that either separate us from one another or lines that draw us closer.
The end of the Door County Half Ironman is a large downhill road that shoots you out into the finishing gate. You cannot help but take long fast strides to barrel down the hill. After 6 hours and 19 minutes, well under my goal of 7 hours, I cannot feel my legs, I cannot think. I have no choice but to let this last sprint propel me forward to a life past this finish line.
Fifteen minutes before the race, everyone convenes at the water. I don't like those minutes because the swim course always appears so long and the anticipation of starting makes my nerves go into overdrive. I fight the urge to hyperventilate. My friends try to joke, to take pictures, to be supportive, whatever it takes to keep things light. Before you know it, the first waves have started and you feel swept up in a machine that only moves forward, the noise of something unknown just up ahead. And then without a fight, your face is in the water, your arms are paddling, the conversation you had with yourself about your training becomes irrelevant.
I really don't mind the swim. I stay out of the pack, try to avoid getting kicked in the head. The trip to the first buoy always feels like you're running down the hall in a horror movie and the hall just keeps getting longer and longer. It feels like it's never gonna come. But eventually, you round that first corner and things even out. You try to breathe easy, try to lengthen your stroke and concentrate on form. Since all participants were wearing the same colored caps, it is difficult to gauge my progress as one wave melts into another. That's interesting for me. 1.2 miles later, the longest distance in my swimming history, I am back on the beach heading to the transition.
On my bike now, it's time to hunker down. I'm gonna be on this thing for the next 3.5 hours. Biking for me is challenging. I'm not very fast. And so in these races, it is always a mental struggle as other racers whiz past me. My number is 369. I try to stay zen as the 400's, 500's, 600's, 700's, and 800's parad past me in succession. I want to scream, "what do they have that I don't?" I wonder if I felt worse watching them pass me, if they felt an equal amount of satisfaction knowing they were getting ahead of someone who started before they did. And yet, I am biking faster than I usually do and making strong progress. So why the comparison? Why the need to downplay my own success because someone is doing better? After 40 miles on the bike, I am getting pretty tired. I was eating power gels and drinking a ton but it wasn't giving me the boost I needed. Perhaps they were just keeping me in the game. The idea of biking another hour and then running a half marathon is now a bit daunting. It's raining and water is dripping off of my helmut and my nose. I am soaked. It's odd to think that I am in Sturgeon Bay and I still have to bike to Egg Harbor. The support from the volunteers is starting to sound empty.
And yet, oddly enough coming into transition after 56 miles of biking, I am energized for the run. I stop thinking about not being able to finish. I start to think about the beauty of this time and this moment, about the opportunity and the ability to achieve this at all. The rain has stopped and it is still cool and running just feels comfortable. I always shine on the run and this day is no different. I begin passing people and we all start encouraging each other to keep going. We run up as much of the hills as we can trying to see who will start walking first. We begin to joke with the volunteers as water stations. I can see people starting to fatigue but I am feeling great. My friends and Tony position themselves in multiple spots along the way to yell for me, push me along, tell me that I'm doing fine.
Up until this moment, I haven't thought much about why I'm doing this race. I've been caught up on alot of the technical details of just getting through; the planning, buoys, changing gears, nutrition, passing on the left, stretching. Without any of that left, my mind drifts to one person, Carl Walker Hoover. Had he not killed himself, he would be 13 now. I begin to think about what his life would be like - he would be starting high school, maybe at a new school, new friends, trying out for the freshman football team, algebra, Homecoming. Would he feel as though his past struggles would be behind him? Or would he feel as though nothing will have changed? I begin to think about what advice I would give to this young man, this teenager. How could I best tell him that races are meant to be run just like life is meant to be lived? There are bouys to round like there are milestones for us to meet. There are gears to shift, hills to climb, people who will intentionally leave us behind just like there are years in life that challenge our identity and well being. There are moments of clarity and simplicity and times to excel just like there are moments of compassion and community. There are transitions to bridge each new phase as we allow ourselves to be reinvented.
And above it all, there is the realization that there is more that connects us than divides us. For as much as we try to differentiate ourselves, to reach out from the pack, to blaze a trail that has been previously undefined, our base struggle is still the same. And for as much as we feel the need to get ahead of others, to never be last, to elevate ourselves at another's expense, our human condition is still the same and it is shared. We can create invisible lines, rules, to guide our interactions but they can be lines that either separate us from one another or lines that draw us closer.
The end of the Door County Half Ironman is a large downhill road that shoots you out into the finishing gate. You cannot help but take long fast strides to barrel down the hill. After 6 hours and 19 minutes, well under my goal of 7 hours, I cannot feel my legs, I cannot think. I have no choice but to let this last sprint propel me forward to a life past this finish line.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Anticipation
The Half Ironman is next weekend. I'm a bit terrified. My training hasn't been coming together like I thought it would in the last two weeks. For the first time, I'm less worried about having a bad finishing time and more worried about becoming physically unable to finish. Perhaps I've bitten off more than I can chew?
I have a tendency to do these things; go blindly into a project or stare into the future without a full estimation of the consequences. It is equal parts stupid and endearing. And so when the deadline approaches, the anticipation of it becomes both exciting and yet crippling. It is a conscious act to decide which of the two will take over at any given time. In the end it is much easier to fall back on a construct of ourselves that we already know rather than trust the vision of the person we hope we can be. The snags in our journey outshine the possibility that things will be different this next time. It is difficult to say "I am an ironman athlete" and believe it.
In the thick of the summer, it isn't quite time yet to think about the first day back at school. But my thoughts about my upcoming race mirror what alot of kids think about that day. It is easy for bullied kids to focus on a year of more of the same as opposed to looking in the mirror and saying "things are gonna be better for me this time around" and believing it.
I'm climbing this monster of a hill, this Half Ironman, because I believe that I can be better than I ever thought I could. And I'm sending that energy to every kid who is struggling just to be themselves.
You can help me by donating to my race partner GLSEN by clicking the donation button on the right or https:/my.glsen.org/leschke
I have a tendency to do these things; go blindly into a project or stare into the future without a full estimation of the consequences. It is equal parts stupid and endearing. And so when the deadline approaches, the anticipation of it becomes both exciting and yet crippling. It is a conscious act to decide which of the two will take over at any given time. In the end it is much easier to fall back on a construct of ourselves that we already know rather than trust the vision of the person we hope we can be. The snags in our journey outshine the possibility that things will be different this next time. It is difficult to say "I am an ironman athlete" and believe it.
In the thick of the summer, it isn't quite time yet to think about the first day back at school. But my thoughts about my upcoming race mirror what alot of kids think about that day. It is easy for bullied kids to focus on a year of more of the same as opposed to looking in the mirror and saying "things are gonna be better for me this time around" and believing it.
I'm climbing this monster of a hill, this Half Ironman, because I believe that I can be better than I ever thought I could. And I'm sending that energy to every kid who is struggling just to be themselves.
You can help me by donating to my race partner GLSEN by clicking the donation button on the right or https:/my.glsen.org/leschke
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Anticipation
In a little over two weeks I slash through my second and hardest race to date, the Half Ironman. While not down to the wire yet, I have to admit that I'm getting nervous. The distances in training are getting long enough now that they take up more time and energy and I have started to have to pack nutrition and carry more water. I actually get hungry on the ride! This past weekend, 35 miles of biking followed by 9 miles of running, I had to do the race after working my night shift. The weather was overcast and rainy. Half of the bike was achieved in a torrential downpour with some scary lightning. I was soaking wet. I was also surprised to see cranes and wild turkeys sitting on the trail. That was kind of cool.
It's interesting. I had set out to do these 5 Races in 5 Months, one of which is an olympic distance triathlon. What I didn't count on is that in training for the Half Ironman, I am essentially doing more than the olympic distances on the bike and run every week. It is regular and unavoidable.
I think of the regular bullying that kids endure in school. It comes out of nowhere, there is no special circumstances that cause it to occur, no path that you can avoid. I think about waking up in the morning to get ready for classes knowing that you have to go, wondering if today will be the same as before, wondering if there will be a reprieve. I think of the additional armor that kids have to take with them or build in front of them, not unlike the additional water and nutrition that I have to take to get through the long ride. I can understand how some kids, when faced with an additional torrential downpour just decide to quit.
By clicking on the donation page on the right, you can help me help GLSEN end the downpour of bullying that kids everywhere endure on a regular basis.
It's interesting. I had set out to do these 5 Races in 5 Months, one of which is an olympic distance triathlon. What I didn't count on is that in training for the Half Ironman, I am essentially doing more than the olympic distances on the bike and run every week. It is regular and unavoidable.
I think of the regular bullying that kids endure in school. It comes out of nowhere, there is no special circumstances that cause it to occur, no path that you can avoid. I think about waking up in the morning to get ready for classes knowing that you have to go, wondering if today will be the same as before, wondering if there will be a reprieve. I think of the additional armor that kids have to take with them or build in front of them, not unlike the additional water and nutrition that I have to take to get through the long ride. I can understand how some kids, when faced with an additional torrential downpour just decide to quit.
By clicking on the donation page on the right, you can help me help GLSEN end the downpour of bullying that kids everywhere endure on a regular basis.
Monday, June 21, 2010
The Difference a Week Makes
Training for the Half Ironman, my second race of the season, continues. To boot, I'm in week 4 of Marathon training which will be my 5th and last race this year. It's the ultimate in physical multi-tasking. So the only way to do my long runs on the weekend and manage the bikes is to combine the two for a killer brick. So this weekend was a 90 minute bike followed by a 5 mile run. Essentially close to what I did poorly the week before with the Capitol tri. I finally fixed my bike shoes and inaugurated them on this set. Wow, what a difference that made. I felt good at the end which gave me hope that the weeks to come are going to sail by.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Capitol View Triathlon
It's generally good to have goals. As you know, last Sunday, I participated in the Olympic distance Capital View Triathlon. My goal was to beat my time from last year's Pleasant Prairie race.
For a moment it looked like the tri itself wouldn't get its feet wet. The DNR was reporting high levels of e.coli in the water making it too dangerous to swim. But luckily the state gave the green light and before I knew it, I was face first in the seaweed, paddling toward the first bouy. I'm not the most efficient swimmer, I'm pretty dizzy by the end. But as I emerged from the water, I was happy to note that I was right on track.
The CVT prides itself on being a tough course. The bike has alot of hills - big ones. And the downhills end in curves so you really can't enjoy them without braking. Unfortunately I still didn't have my bike shoes ready and so had to go it alone without them. I thought I was doing Ok but really petered out after the 10 mile marker. After I realized that my goal to beat last year's time was slowly running out, I just wanted to put my head down and make it to the run.
The run is my strength. Always has been. Just like the bike, the run is rife with hills and it's all on grass which was something I wasn't used to. I maintained my habit of walking through the water stations but had to walk up some of the hills. Overall, I blasted it out at 9 minute miles.
I didn't beat my time from last year. I came in at 3:11, about 20 minutes past my old time. It's easy to say that the two races were different. I would say vastly different. It's tough to compare one apple to a different orange. But in the end, it doesn't really matter. The thing about goals in races and in life is that they provide us with vision. They allow us to create a picture of ourselves that we want to be. And should we fall short of our goals, that picture still remains for the next time as we are ever changing, ever evolving, ever striving for something better for ourselves.
My next time will be the Half Ironman in Door County next month. I'll train harder and get those shoes fixed. And it will make the difference. If you want to make a difference in the lives of kids who are at risk for being bullied, donate to GLSEN by clicking on the button in the sidebar or go to https://my.glsen.org/leschke
For a moment it looked like the tri itself wouldn't get its feet wet. The DNR was reporting high levels of e.coli in the water making it too dangerous to swim. But luckily the state gave the green light and before I knew it, I was face first in the seaweed, paddling toward the first bouy. I'm not the most efficient swimmer, I'm pretty dizzy by the end. But as I emerged from the water, I was happy to note that I was right on track.
The CVT prides itself on being a tough course. The bike has alot of hills - big ones. And the downhills end in curves so you really can't enjoy them without braking. Unfortunately I still didn't have my bike shoes ready and so had to go it alone without them. I thought I was doing Ok but really petered out after the 10 mile marker. After I realized that my goal to beat last year's time was slowly running out, I just wanted to put my head down and make it to the run.
The run is my strength. Always has been. Just like the bike, the run is rife with hills and it's all on grass which was something I wasn't used to. I maintained my habit of walking through the water stations but had to walk up some of the hills. Overall, I blasted it out at 9 minute miles.
I didn't beat my time from last year. I came in at 3:11, about 20 minutes past my old time. It's easy to say that the two races were different. I would say vastly different. It's tough to compare one apple to a different orange. But in the end, it doesn't really matter. The thing about goals in races and in life is that they provide us with vision. They allow us to create a picture of ourselves that we want to be. And should we fall short of our goals, that picture still remains for the next time as we are ever changing, ever evolving, ever striving for something better for ourselves.
My next time will be the Half Ironman in Door County next month. I'll train harder and get those shoes fixed. And it will make the difference. If you want to make a difference in the lives of kids who are at risk for being bullied, donate to GLSEN by clicking on the button in the sidebar or go to https://my.glsen.org/leschke
Friday, June 11, 2010
Coming Full Circle
So this weekend is my first race: the Olympic distance triathlon. One year ago, my mission was simple - to run an Olympic distance triathlon to raise money and awareness for the fight against school bullying. At the time, the idea of doing an Oly was beyond comprehension for me. I proved to myself that I could do it, one stroke at a time, one hill at a time, one step at a time. And along the way, I remembered the kids that I was running for.
And here we are, one year later, on the verge of my planned 5 Races in 5 Months Challenge starting with the race that I thought was beyond comprehension last year. It's not an accident that I'm doing the Oly right out of the gate. I'm starting off where I ended because there is nowhere to look but forward. And now, a Half Ironman and a Marathon are the impossible feats though I'm attacking them with a different spirit.
I'm running this race this weekend for those kids like Derrick Martin and Constance McMillan who endured really hard years last year. They wouldn't deny or compromise who they were. They refused to live in any other world than what they envisioned for themselves. And they paid dearly for it. But the price of growing up is repaid when we realize that the toughest thing that we endured in the past allows us to climb even tougher hills now and in the future. And that what we thought was impossible last year now seems easy.
GLSEN wants to eradicate those impossible roads of bullying to clear the path to a happier and healthier education for all students. You can help GLSEN and kids like Derrick and Constance by helping me raise money for them. Click the donate button on the right or go to https://my.glsen.org/leschke
And here we are, one year later, on the verge of my planned 5 Races in 5 Months Challenge starting with the race that I thought was beyond comprehension last year. It's not an accident that I'm doing the Oly right out of the gate. I'm starting off where I ended because there is nowhere to look but forward. And now, a Half Ironman and a Marathon are the impossible feats though I'm attacking them with a different spirit.
I'm running this race this weekend for those kids like Derrick Martin and Constance McMillan who endured really hard years last year. They wouldn't deny or compromise who they were. They refused to live in any other world than what they envisioned for themselves. And they paid dearly for it. But the price of growing up is repaid when we realize that the toughest thing that we endured in the past allows us to climb even tougher hills now and in the future. And that what we thought was impossible last year now seems easy.
GLSEN wants to eradicate those impossible roads of bullying to clear the path to a happier and healthier education for all students. You can help GLSEN and kids like Derrick and Constance by helping me raise money for them. Click the donate button on the right or go to https://my.glsen.org/leschke
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Brick Days
Brick days are tough. A brick day, if you didn't know, was a day that you pile two disciplines of a triathlon on top of each other. Usually it is a bike followed directly by a run. Some say it comes from the idea of laying bricks on top of each other. Others say it comes from the way your legs feel when you start to run after getting off the bike. I vote the second.
I started brick days this week. And they are always disconcerting because just when you feel as though you are making a ton of progress, a brick day knocks you back a few rungs on the proverbial ladder of success. After running consecutively for 90 minutes last week, it's hard to have to stop to take a stretch after only 4 minutes this week. But eventually things even out and legs get moving. a 30 minute run might be tough but eventually you get through it.
There have been alot of people speaking out against school bullying lately. Chris Colfer from Glee was on the View talking about getting bullied. Jason Mraz (man, i love him) spoke out against it. Russ Feingold and Al Franken introduced the Student Non-Discrimination Bill in Congress. All of them are people who, despite setbacks, kept their eyes on the prize to reach success. And when stuff is piling up, that isn't always easy to do.
GLSEN wants to help kids learn and grow in an environment where being a kid is tough enough without piling on the extra burden of bullying. Please help me help them by donating to my 5 Races in 5 Months challenge by clicking on the donation link in the right margin. We'll solve it together, one brick at a time.
I started brick days this week. And they are always disconcerting because just when you feel as though you are making a ton of progress, a brick day knocks you back a few rungs on the proverbial ladder of success. After running consecutively for 90 minutes last week, it's hard to have to stop to take a stretch after only 4 minutes this week. But eventually things even out and legs get moving. a 30 minute run might be tough but eventually you get through it.
There have been alot of people speaking out against school bullying lately. Chris Colfer from Glee was on the View talking about getting bullied. Jason Mraz (man, i love him) spoke out against it. Russ Feingold and Al Franken introduced the Student Non-Discrimination Bill in Congress. All of them are people who, despite setbacks, kept their eyes on the prize to reach success. And when stuff is piling up, that isn't always easy to do.
GLSEN wants to help kids learn and grow in an environment where being a kid is tough enough without piling on the extra burden of bullying. Please help me help them by donating to my 5 Races in 5 Months challenge by clicking on the donation link in the right margin. We'll solve it together, one brick at a time.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Community
As race season gets closer and closer, I am reminded of last year's challenges and this year's new challenges. The idea of doing a half ironman this year is a bit nervewracking. Ending the season with a full marathon is going to be even tougher. I remember how nervous I was tackling the races last year in the midst of so many strange faces of people who seemed more driven, more capable, ready to blow me out of the water. In talking about my endeavor, I've been pleasantly surprised to find out that so many people I know are going to be doing the same races as me this year. It's as if every step of the way there will be friendly faces sharing the same experience.
Recently, People magazine ran a short article about the Alliance School of Milwaukee, a charter school for kids who found themselves struggling in their previous schools because of bullying and harassment. The article was full of examples of kids whose aptitude and self esteem had increased since finding this new environment. And these kids aren't perfect. Part of their curriculum includes learning how to deal with their conflicts with each other and their differences in a respectful and constructive way. And so it's shocking to think that there would be anyone who would suggest that such a school should be shut down or go unfunded. This particular man interviewed suggested that the whole need for such schools is overblown, that kids aren't really being bullied that much. Or even if they are, we aren't really doing them a favor if the only way they can succeed is by pulling them out of the "real world."
It's difficult to go it alone. It feels better to have friendly faces by your side. Without the anxiety or the anger, without the resentment or the depression, all that is left is the ability to focus on the job at hand, to be yourself and to be your best. And when we can be our best, we have the ability to help others be their best at the same time.
In a sense, the man in the People article is right. We shouldn't need charter schools to ensure that all kids are valued and respected regardless of sexual orientation, gender expression, or anything for that matter. All kids should be taught to understand the necessity of a supportive community and the benefits that supportive community brings to everyone.
Please consider helping me help GLSEN achieve their mission. I'm running these races to raise money and awareness. Donate what you can at www.my.glsen.org/leschke
Recently, People magazine ran a short article about the Alliance School of Milwaukee, a charter school for kids who found themselves struggling in their previous schools because of bullying and harassment. The article was full of examples of kids whose aptitude and self esteem had increased since finding this new environment. And these kids aren't perfect. Part of their curriculum includes learning how to deal with their conflicts with each other and their differences in a respectful and constructive way. And so it's shocking to think that there would be anyone who would suggest that such a school should be shut down or go unfunded. This particular man interviewed suggested that the whole need for such schools is overblown, that kids aren't really being bullied that much. Or even if they are, we aren't really doing them a favor if the only way they can succeed is by pulling them out of the "real world."
It's difficult to go it alone. It feels better to have friendly faces by your side. Without the anxiety or the anger, without the resentment or the depression, all that is left is the ability to focus on the job at hand, to be yourself and to be your best. And when we can be our best, we have the ability to help others be their best at the same time.
In a sense, the man in the People article is right. We shouldn't need charter schools to ensure that all kids are valued and respected regardless of sexual orientation, gender expression, or anything for that matter. All kids should be taught to understand the necessity of a supportive community and the benefits that supportive community brings to everyone.
Please consider helping me help GLSEN achieve their mission. I'm running these races to raise money and awareness. Donate what you can at www.my.glsen.org/leschke
Monday, March 22, 2010
Upping the Ante
The weather is getting warmer, the sun is shining, and that can only mean training season. In my last post over six months ago I shared my experience running my first ever Olympic distance marathon. It was a journey that many of you traveled with me as you helped me stay on track and raise money for the Gay Lesbian Straight Education Network, a national organization that works to end bullying in schools and seeks to help educators provide a safe environment for kids to learn and grow. Last year, I was inspired by the death of Carl Walker Hoover, a young boy who didn't identify as gay but was forced to listen to taunts about his sexuality every day at school until he finally took his own life at his home. You can read my thoughts about Carl in my previous posts The Mission and The Inspiration. Carl's story still stays with me.
But you don't have to look far yet again for news about the effect that bullying is having on kids. Candace McMillen just wanted to take her girlfriend to her prom this year and to wear a tuxedo. The school cancelled the prom rather than let her go and the fallout she endured from her fellow students who believe that she ruined their high school experience left Candace feeling unsafe at school. Derrick Miller wanted to take his boyfriend to his school's prom. The school let him but his fellow students protested that decision saying they shouldn't have to see two boys holding each other on the dance floor. Derrick's parents kicked him out of the house because of all the media attention. Seriously? Who are these people? And just this week, a number of students were charged with their complicity in the death of Phoebe Price, a transfer student who was incessantly bullied at school and on social networking sites until she too hung herself in her home. While she was not bullied because of her real or perceived sexuality, as a transfer student from Ireland she was an easy target because she was different and challenged the status quo.
This year I will partner with GLSEN again in their campaign. But I felt like I needed to up the ante. I thought about what sort of challenge would be meaningful to me and inspire others to help me raise money. So consider this the first post in my journey this year to accomplish what I am calling "Five Races in Five Months". Beginning in June and ending in October I will be running the following five races: a sprint distance triathlon, an Olympic distance triathlon, a half marathon, a marathon, and a Half Ironman. And I would love it if you would follow along and support GLSEN.
I've already started training and I'm well on my way. And so please return to this blog for details and my thoughts as the weeks, the months, and the races go by. Further details on how you can donate to GLSEN will be forthcoming.
But you don't have to look far yet again for news about the effect that bullying is having on kids. Candace McMillen just wanted to take her girlfriend to her prom this year and to wear a tuxedo. The school cancelled the prom rather than let her go and the fallout she endured from her fellow students who believe that she ruined their high school experience left Candace feeling unsafe at school. Derrick Miller wanted to take his boyfriend to his school's prom. The school let him but his fellow students protested that decision saying they shouldn't have to see two boys holding each other on the dance floor. Derrick's parents kicked him out of the house because of all the media attention. Seriously? Who are these people? And just this week, a number of students were charged with their complicity in the death of Phoebe Price, a transfer student who was incessantly bullied at school and on social networking sites until she too hung herself in her home. While she was not bullied because of her real or perceived sexuality, as a transfer student from Ireland she was an easy target because she was different and challenged the status quo.
This year I will partner with GLSEN again in their campaign. But I felt like I needed to up the ante. I thought about what sort of challenge would be meaningful to me and inspire others to help me raise money. So consider this the first post in my journey this year to accomplish what I am calling "Five Races in Five Months". Beginning in June and ending in October I will be running the following five races: a sprint distance triathlon, an Olympic distance triathlon, a half marathon, a marathon, and a Half Ironman. And I would love it if you would follow along and support GLSEN.
I've already started training and I'm well on my way. And so please return to this blog for details and my thoughts as the weeks, the months, and the races go by. Further details on how you can donate to GLSEN will be forthcoming.
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