I awoke about 7 AM this morning and it was raining. Then a piece of Iowa folk-wisdom passed down from my wife, Babs, occurred to me. "Rain before 7. Through by eleven. I am often skeptical of such folk-wisdom, but seeing as how my sacrifices to the Bob the Sun God hadn't brought any real effect, I was willing to hope for the best on this one. Amazingly enough, the rain stopped by 9 or 9:30. Babs got to go to her tennis lesson, and I got to go outside and run in the morning sun. It's currently 80 degrees and humid under mostly cloudy skies. Light breezes off the lake keep the areas immediately next to the lake quite comfy, thank you very much. It still looks a bit hazy in yon Eastern distance o'er Lake Michigan. I definitely cannot see Indiana in the distance today. Still in all, it has turned out to be a pleasant day, and a few pleasure boats have dropped anchor in Streeterville Bay.
I was perusing Facebook today and noticed that a friend of mine is off to Washington state to attend a running clinic. I find this interesting, because my friend, whom we shall call Rob, because his name is, ummm, Rob, has never listened to any advice about his running whatsoever. Rob and I ran our first marathon together, or rather we ran it on the same day. I ran it in 4 hours 21 minutes, and Rob was waiting for me when I got to the finish line. Waiting for slower runners and having patience are not virtues one could ascribe to Rob. He lost one girlfriend because of that, despite being advised by numerous friends that, on occasion, for the sake of the relationship, perhaps he should not just run off and leave the woman he loved in the dust.
Rob has never been much for taking advice, and as regards any screwups he may have pulled, his usual retort is, "What do I know? I'm English." Doesn't seem to matter much what the screwup. It's the standard reply, because, well, he's English. At any rate, Rob doesn't listen much to advice. Like most guys, English or not, he has the idea firmly fixed in his head that he already knows everything he needs to know, so don't go advising him. This is a bit peculiar, at times, because he actually seeks out coaching for his running. One particular coach became severely annoyed with Robbo because it seems that he is a fairly gifted runner. He just quit smoking and decided to do something healthy like running one day and a short time later was running marathons in less than 4 hours. The coach in question tried to help him because he believed that Rob could actually run a marathon in less than 3 hours, but it seems that Robbo won't listen to advice on training habits, strategies, etc. He just goes out and runs, sans strategy.
On at least one occasion, Rob ignored a doctor's advice to avoid running the Chicago Marathon because, as it turns out, Rob had "walking pneumonia." Ran the marathon anyway. Not his best marathon, but still sub-4 hour effort. He has run marathons in 3 hours 15 minutes on at least one occasion and has qualified for Boston multiple times, in spite of his lack of acceptance of advice. I find it interesting, then, that Rob pays good money to fly off to Washington state to a running clinic, from which he will return, and inevitably he will return thinking about all the wonderful advice he received. Then he will proceed to do exactly as he always has. And he will produce amazingly good results. Advice? Screw it. Bunch of know-it-alls. What do they know about me? Or in Rob's case, "What do I know? I'm English."
Another friend, whom we shall call Robert, because his name is, well, Robert, not Bob, not Bobbie, not Rob, nor Robbie, but Robert, used to have a plaque in his living room that read, "When all else fails, read the directions." Robert, another outstanding example of male stubbornness, graduated from college, and when he got his first full-time professional job began spending money on any number of hobbies that he couldn't afford before. Read up on these hobbies? Nah! Accept advice from knowledgeable sorts about these hobbies? Nah! Robert would just plunge in and accept screwups as a part of the learning curve. In a two year period I saw dead tropical fish, broken model airplanes (Got that baby to fly one circle around his head before it crashed and broke into a thousand pieces.), one expensive motorcycle lost due to theft, and any number of minor tragedies, due to one thing. Robert would not listen to anyone's advice. He had a math degree. He was smart. What did he need with advice from other people. He could figure it out for himself.
I see this trend in a great many guys and I like to think that, being a self-aware type, I'm open to a little advice and constructive criticism on occasion. However, if you ask my wife, Babs, she will tell you that I'm stubborn, intransigent, and have never listened to a word she says, and I'm just determined to do it all "my way" even if the results are tragic. Hey, my way usually produces pretty good results, and who wants other people telling you what to do all the time, even if they do a better job of some things than you. It's just annoying. Frankly, Frank had a good idea there for all of us in guyland. "I did it my way." That's a mantra we all can live by. Now if I can just work through this thing and figure out why Babs always beats me at tennis. Spare me the advice. I'm thinking about this thing, and doing it my way.
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