This Sunday will be my first Father’s Day without my dad. In addition, my niece—my dad’s granddaughter—will be celebrating her bat mitzvah on Saturday. This means that the family-wide celebration on Saturday and the traditional barbecue get-together on Sunday will both have a glaring void.
But I don’t want to make this about sadness and mourning … we’ve had plenty of those the last couple months. Instead, I want to share one of my favorite stories about my dad and me (and not coincidentally, about just how naïve and sheltered I was as a kid).
My dad's old grinder he used to make 'cigarettes'
When I was a kid, my dad used to smoke. Occasionally, he would smoke “cigarettes” he made himself.
I remember my dad coming home from work on occasion and removing from his briefcase a small plastic sandwich bag filled with tiny green leaves. I would watch him run the leaves through an herb grinder, one that looks exactly like the one pictured to the right (it was even the same color and had the same logo and lettering on the front). I would watch him lay out rolling papers. He’d pour some of the now-grounded leaves onto the papers, roll them, lick the edges, and place them in a metal cigarette carrying case.
Normally, he would smoke Kools. But occasionally, he’d smoke these homemade cigarettes. Most of the time, he’d bring these out during sporting events.
(As a side note, this is how I can roughly place the time period in which this took place … because the homemade cigarettes most often came out during Flyers hockey games, and my house was the gathering place for Flyers games because home Flyers games in the early 1980s could only be seen on Prism [anyone remember Prism?]. And missing a Flyers game was a cardinal sin in my home [it still is].)
So my parents’ friends would come over, and they’d watch the game and pass around the homemade cigarettes using an alligator clip. They’d suck it in for far longer than they would a regular store-bought cigarette, and when they’d try to speak afterward, their voices sounded, gruff, deep, and strained.
I remember watching my dad filtering the leaves in the herb grinder one evening, and asking him why he made his own cigarettes.
“Sometimes I just like to make my own cigarettes. Plus they cost less to make them than they do to buy them,” he told me.
“Why do they make your voice sound funny?” I asked.
“Because they don’t have filters like regular cigarettes.”
If you've never seen History of the World Part I, please do yourself a favor and go watch it. Now.
Made sense. And even though I’d watched Mel Brooks’ History of the World Part I at least a dozen times by the time I was 11 or 12 and my dad’s cigarettes looked EXACTLY like the mega-joint rolled in the movie, I never made the connection. To me, they were just homemade cigarettes.
Fast forward to my senior year of high school. I’m spending my lunch period in the Mentally Gifted room in my high school (essentially, a computer lab and study hall for the smart and creative kids). I was sitting at a table with a friend who was well-known as a heavy partier.
“What are you doing after school? You doing anything?” he asked me. I’m not sure what my answer was, but I assume I was scheduled to work my part-time job that evening, so I had to get home.
“You sure?” he asked, as he unzipped his backpack to reveal a blue version of the herb grinder that my dad had. It even had the same leaf picture and text on the front.
“Oh!” I said probably a little too loud. “My dad has one of those.”
The moment I finally realized what my dad was doing all those years, thanks to a blue version of his herb grinder.
“He does?!” my friend asked incredulously.
“Yeah, he used to use it to make his own ciga … SONOFABITCH!!!!!”
(That last word I know was a little too loud.)
When I saw him at home that night, I confronted my dad.
“YOU LIED TO ME!” (also too loud)
He responded with a look that hovered somewhere between, “Oh crap, I’m busted,” and, “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific here.”
Kind of makes you wonder how often your parents bent the truth a little bit in order to quiet a too-inquisitive child. I mean, did McDonald's REALLY keep running out of chocolate shakes? Did a little boy down the street REALLY trip and break his neck because he didn’t tie his shoes? And most importantly, will my butt REALLY fall off if I unbutton my belly button?
I wish I could still ask him.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. Love you and miss you.
It may be difficult to picture a scientist leaving
the lab and picking up a guitar to head out to an open mic night at a local
coffeehouse.
Conversely, it may be odd to consider a performing singer/songwriter
coming home from a weekend of music and putting on her lab coat to head out to
her “day job.”
Turns out, some colleagues have trouble picturing it
as well.
But those are two of the sides to Ashley Juavinett.
A PhD neuroscientist serving her postdoctoral fellowship at Cold Spring Harbor
Laboratory, Juavinett is also a singer/songwriter who has performed at music
venues across the country, and has even released a few independent albums.
“It’s funny,
but at work, it usually takes time for me to come out to people as a musician,”
Juavinett said during a recent phone conversation. “There’ll be some sort of an
event, ‘Hey, I can play. I dabble.’ It’s just kind of happening now that people
are starting to find out. A few months ago I started playing a few more gigs, and
it was like, ‘You have this whole other side of you?’ ‘Yeah, kind of.’”
To her colleagues, Juavinett is a dedicated
scientist studying the effects of multisensory stimuli on mice and how the
brain processes that information. It’s a study she’s been working on since she
began at CSH Laboratory more than 18 months ago.
She knew she wanted to study multisensory
information, but in a more natural context than is often found in studies
involving mice.
“Typically in rodent behavioral research, we train
the rodents to do something and study the brain, but my approach, but it’s hard
and time-consuming to train rodents,” she said. “My approach has been to try to
do something that’s a little more natural to what the rodent typically does.
“The question I’m studying is, ‘How does the brain
combine visual and auditory information in order to guide behavior?’ The basic
idea being that every moment you have to deal with a lot of sensory
information, but somehow your brain has to combine it and help you navigate the
world. To do this, we’re using a mouse model, we have these recording devices
that are kind of amazing that allow you to record from hundreds of neurons in
the brain simultaneously, so we implant these in the mouse brain and the mouse
is freely moving and running around while we expose it to different types of
visual or auditory stimuli, with the basic question being, ‘What is the brain
doing when we present that stimuli?’”
Using neuropixels to map the brain activity, while
also observing the reactions of the mice to the various types of stimuli, help
Juavinett to discern how the mice are combining and processing information.
“We want to try to study the brain in as natural as
possible environment, so I’ve developed this paradigm that takes advantage of
the fact that mice run away from predators that come overhead,” she said. “So
we present visual predators where the predator is basically a dot that expands
in size so it simulates something approaching. There’s a visual version and an
auditory version and a version that has both.
“Behavior-wise, the mice respond much more
vigorously to the multisensory version. So they’re integrating information,
saying ‘There’s something overhead, and I should definitely run away.’ So now
we’re trying to understand what the circuits in the brain are actually doing
differently in that situation where the brain has to combine information.”
The question, then, becomes how can this information
be used to learn about how humans would react to such stimuli?
“The overlap between mice and humans is more in the
way of understanding how brain circuits work in general,” Juavinett said. “Where
neurology is, it’s a tough question to think about how circuits combine
information. People are trying to model circuits, model real behavior and see
how a neural circuit works, how the brain works, how it goes awry with
conditions like schizophrenia or autism.”
Perhaps the most relatable example of this would be
in the way people react to a 3D movie. When Juavinett is out presenting her
group’s findings, video/audio examples of this reaction to stimuli can often
result in viewers reacting as they would to a 3D movie.
“It’s funny, when I give a talk or my adviser gives a
talk, you will see people back away when they show it on screen,” she said.
“But obviously we’re looking for more than just that. People do studies in
infants, trying to understand, at what point do they recognize something is coming
at them. People use stimuli to understand the developmental process.”
•••
While Juavinett may have experience working with
auditory stimuli in a lab setting, she’s an expert in auditory stimuli when it
comes from her soul. She’s been playing guitar and writing original music for
many years; she released an EP, 20 Miles
to Freedom, as an undergrad at Lafayette College, and followed it up two years
later with her first full-length album, Skies
Apart.
Though she mainly performs solo, she spent time as a
member of The Dark Matter Turtles, a quartet of University of California San
Diego medical students who, according to their Facebook page, enjoyed
“moonlighting as a soulcoustapoppafunk band.”
“I never really took that leap with music,”
Juavinett said. “Science is what I know and what I love. But what’s nice is
that I still get to stretch my creative muscles a little bit in music and
writing. As long as I have an outlet, I’m a happy person.
“My music has definitely gotten more personal in the
past few years. There’s always a time in people’s lives where it’s very
vulnerable to be sharing your own personal story, and there would always be certain
topics I would leave out. For me, the past few years, my music and my lyrics
have gotten more personal, deeper, which is great for me as an individual, because
writing music is therapy.”
Juavinett also believes her interest in
psychology—which plays a huge part in neuroscience—lends itself to her approach
to writing music … finding ways to connect with others on a personal, emotional
level.
“There’s a desire to understand the human condition
in psychology as well as in music and songwriting, there’s an interest in
exploring what people go through, to see what songs move people, as opposed to
songs that maybe mean something to me but not anyone else. I never really
wanted to study the science or psychology of music. I like having them separate
so that music never feels like work.
“Pursuing music full-time had crossed my mind a few
times. My approach had always been that if I ever got an opportunity in music
that was so amazing, I would leave science and pursue music. But the truth is
those opportunities don’t just pop up, you have to work at it and work at it and
I haven’t really been working at it to make it happen. I find it very
fulfilling and I really enjoy doing what I’m doing: science and research, and
music on the side.”
Juavinett has seen her musical styles evolve and
grow as she has.
“I’ve been trying to different styles, I tried to
move into jazz a bit, more raw folk-type things,” she said. “I’m moving away
from the pure acoustic pop thing.”
While Juavinett admits she hasn’t spent too much
time in the local Long Island music scene – something she’d like to remedy
moving forward – she has performed at various open mics, played an acoustic set
at a Fall Festival in Huntington, and plays at a monthly live music yoga class.
“That’s a super-fun and challenging new project,”
she said. “It’s mostly instrumental and what I do usually includes a lot of
vocals. I try to match the mood of the class, play more instrumental pieces,
build up interesting textures. It’s a very different direction.”
“I’m very certain that I do want to keep writing and
sharing my music, but the energy for performing ebbs and flows based on what is
going on in my life. I’m actually quite an introvert, so standing up and
memorizing and preparing, the whole social experience that goes into a
performance, I always need time to decompress afterward.”
While
there may not seem to be much of an intersect in a Venn diagram that consists
of laboratory science in one set and writing and performing music in the other
set, but there’s no doubt that the confidence gained and the reaction achieved
from performing in front of a live audience has helped color Juavinett’s love
of trying to reach people with science as well.
“I don’t feel like there’s a ton of things crossing
over between science and music,” she said with a laugh. “But one way these do
inform each other is the comfort of being in front of people and performing. I
feel very comfortable giving a scientific talk, I generally feel very comfortable
on stage and in front of people, and that comes from performing music in front
of people.”
Juavinett
is passionate about sharing science with as many people as possible. She has contributed
articles to numerous science websites including Massive Science, where you’ll
find a very relatable article about trying to find an obscure item at Home
Depot without having to spend all day explaining why you need it.
“It’s
funny, I think most scientists hate to write anecdotal pieces like that,” she
said. “Coming from a songwriting background, we recognize the power of telling
a story, so why can’t we do the same thing with science and science writing as
well? Not every neuroscientist goes into Home Depot and has the experience I
had, but people can relate to that mundane part of that.
“If
you can show that you care about something and you can tell a story people can
relate to, give it a different slant than people are used to, I think that can
be way more powerful than writing an article that says, ‘Genes are made up of
this…’ It’s about making a connection to people’s lives, and about stripping
down notions people have about how you can present science or how you can present
anything.”
Juavinett
has also worked with Guerilla Science, an organization dedicated to creating
entertaining and inspiring presentations and installations for cultural events
in an effort to connect people with science.
“Guerilla Science will bring science into unusual
spaces—music festivals, art festivals … they’ll pitch a tent, run science
programs, give talks or workshops. It’s really amazing, and everybody is able to
do a fun science project. I really like them, they keep sparking curiosity and
interest with people. It’s super fun to be involved with them.”
Wherever science and music take Juavinett in the
future, she believes they will always take her in front of crowds, either to
share her music, or to help spread her love of science.
“At the end of the day, that’s what I care the most
about,”
she said. “I’ve been trying to decide, do I want to stay in pure
research or do something bridging the scientific community with the rest of the
world. I care tremendously what is science and what it’s doing that can help
people understand their own lives a little better. The public doesn’t always
have access to this information, or the info is not always good. There’s a tremendous
gap between science knowledge and public knowledge. That’s something I’d like
to see evolve. Why not make that information available, bridge the scientific
and broader community?
“I
feel like I always need to be doing some type of outreach or engagement, that’s
ultimately what gives me meaning. I love research but I think the public
engagement side of things is becoming more important to me. I enjoy teaching,
too. I really enjoy public engagement. If I have some ability to do a mix of
those things moving forward, that would be really great.”
Note: Ashley Juavinett is not affiliated with AlphaBioCom and did not receive any compensation for agreeing to be featured in this article. We simply felt she had a fascinating story to tell and we were excited to share it. You can follow Ashley on Twitter here and her Facebook music page here.
That was the last time I rode my bike. I know that
for a fact, because for nearly five years, that date stared me in the face
every morning as I made my way through the laundry room and to the garage to
get to my car.
Stored in the laundry room all those years was my
Cannondale F7, the bib with my rider number from the last American Cancer
Society Bike-a-thon still attached to the front handlebars. I never removed it,
because when I returned home from the bike-a-thon on July 14, 2013, I stood my
bike in the corner of the laundry room, and hadn’t touched it since.
That ride was, if I recall, a disaster. I was out of
shape and did not properly train. I believe I may have ridden 30 miles or so of
the 65-plus-mile route. Instead, I gave up every time I got tired, and used the
bike-a-thon’s SAG (support and gear) cars to take me to the next rest stop …
then the next … then the next.
I returned home, put my bike in the corner of the
laundry room, and left it.
And it sat there for nearly five years, just gathering
dust.
And I got lazier and lazier, heavier and heavier.
•••
Riding in the 2018 Bridge to Beach Bike-a-thon was
important to me for multiple reasons.
When I started my journey in April 2017 to lose
weight and get healthier, I had several very specific goals in mind. One of my
main goals was to get into shape to return to the ACS Bike-a-thon in 2018.
The 2018 version of The A-Team, ready to roll!
I had originally started dieting and exercising in
hopes of not embarrassing myself in the Philadelphia Half-Marathon last
November (click here to read about that). I’ve never been a runner, and never
really enjoyed running. But I always loved speeding down a big hill on my bike,
cruising around the neighborhood, or riding the Schuylkill River Trail to the
Philadelphia Museum of Art. So looking at a return to the bike-a-thon this year
was a logical target. Training for the half-marathon would give me a big
kick-start, and hopefully set me up with a routine for exercising regularly
through those dreaded winter months when it often seems too dark, or cold, or
snowy, to get outside or go to the gym.
It was a bit of a harsher winter in Philadelphia this
year, and between lingering snow and frosty weather, it was mid-April before I
was able to get out on the bike. But first, after five years of sitting
abandoned in the laundry room, I needed to bring it over to my local bike shop
to get it tuned up and inspected to make sure it was still in riding condition.
So I loaded the bike into my car to take to the shop.
My first order of business was to remove the rider number bib that adorned the
handlebars, a literal and figurative gesture that those five years were now in my
past, and this would be a new beginning and a time to move and look forward.
I trained where and when I could. I brought my bike
into work with me at least once a week, and when the working day had ended, I
would head over to the Valley Forge National Park to ride several loops around
the 5-mile path. On weekends, the Schuylkill River Trail or the local Power
Lines Trail in Horsham were my destinations. I rode whenever I could, because
while returning to the bike-a-thon was the goal, I would not be satisfied with being
able to complete only a portion of the ride. I remember how embarrassed I was
in 2013 when I could barely make it from one rest stop to the next. I wouldn’t
allow that to happen again.
If I was going to participate, I was going to ride
the full 65.9 miles.
•••
The other major reason why returning to this event
was so important to me is that the way cancer has affected me and my loved ones
over the years. When I first began riding in the bike-a-thons in 2007, it was a
way to challenge myself while also raising money for a good cause, albeit a
cause that really had not been a personal one to me.
As the years went on, more and more people were
affected. A cousin lost his battle with cancer in 2010, leaving his wife and
two young daughters. Two former colleagues at a newspaper I worked at were
taken soon after.
In 2012, we formed “The A-Team,” in honor of my
mother-in-law, Arlene, who had been diagnosed with cancer in February of that
year. My wife’s family showed up en masse for that bike-a-thon, some
participating in the ride, others volunteering at the finish area in Buena, NJ.
We had hoped someone would be able to bring my mother-in-law to see the team
cross the finish line and witness the assemblage of family and friends who
participated in the ride for her. Unfortunately, that never happened. The
bike-a-thon took place in July. She lost her battle with cancer two months earlier.
What had been planned as a ride to honor her, became a ride to remember her.
And as the years have progressed, the disease continued
to hit close to home. My mother and my cousin have both successfully overcome their
battles with cancer, and I had a small scare with a melanoma in situ that was
found early and removed. And while I would never compare my situation with what
my mother and cousin and countless others have endured, I do have a permanent
reminder of my encounter with cancer, a two-inch-long scar over my heart where
the mole and a surrounding patch of flesh was removed.
•••
A few people I want to call out to thank them for
helping make this event a success.
First and foremost, those who came out to revive The A-Team:
Rob, my perennial riding buddy, who has been with me
through two MS 150s and all my ACS Bike-a-thons.
Katie, my fellow editor at work and one of my main
accountability buddies during the last year. Despite very limited training due
to a hectic schedule, Katie did an absolutely amazing job during the bike-a-thon,
and I am utterly in awe of her willpower and determination to battle through
the exhaustion and pain, the headwinds and hills, to meet and overcome the very
daunting challenge of completing a 65.9-mile ride (I say this for two reasons:
first and foremost, because it’s absolutely true. But also because I don’t
think she’s all too happy with me right now for getting her involved in this
ordeal, so hopefully this smooths things over a bit).
Four riders on The A-Team, four riders who successfully
completed the ACS Bridge to Beach Bike-a-thon.
Holden, who somehow completed the ride on a
three-speed bike (yes, THREE-speed, you read that right) that might have been
older than I am.
Our friends and family who donated to The A-Team.
Thanks to their generosity, our humble four-member group was able to raise more
than $2,000 for the American Cancer Society.
The many, many New Jersey police officers and all the
volunteers who gave their time directing traffic, manning the rest stops and
finish line, and patrolling the route searching for bikers in need of repairs,
water, or a ride.
To the American Cancer Society, for putting together
another outstanding, challenging bike-a-thon. Next time, though, consider
putting the AC Expressway and bridge into Atlantic City closer to the midway
point of the ride. It’s brutal to put that at the end! Thanks as well for taking
care of a problem we encountered leading up to the ride (two of us did not
receive our rider packets) and doing so quickly and with thorough communication.
•••
June 10, 2018.
The rider numbers have changed in the five years
since I last rode in the ACS Bike-a-thon. Instead of a large bib attached to
the handlebars, the rider numbers are now much smaller and wrap around the top
tube or down tube of the bike. Adorning my bike now is a rider number dated
June 10, 2018, the date of this year’s ACS Bike-a-thon.
Sixteen months ago, the thought of riding my bike at
all—let alone riding 65 miles in one day—was not something I would even
consider. Now, I’m 60-plus pounds lighter. I’ve competed in two half-marathons
(I didn’t do well, mind you, but I did them), and I’ve successfully returned to
and completed the ACS Bike-a-thon.
That rider number is no longer a reminder of my
shame, the way the old one used to be. This one is a sign of pride, pride that more
people (including my mom and cousin) are triumphing over cancer … pride of how
far I’ve made it back and continue to check off goals I’ve set for myself … and
pride in knowing that if I can get back into shape to bike 65.9 miles, then I
can achieve the next goal on my list, too.
And while it will serve as a proud reminder, that
rider number is not going to stay attached to my bike for five years. At most,
it’ll be there for five or six days. Because the weekend is coming up, and I
have more dates with the local bike trails.
To
see how important Nicole Kaiser is to the Upper Dublin girls’ basketball team, there’s
no need to flip through the scorebook or examine her statistics.
To
see the effort Kaiser puts in every day, to see the unwavering work ethic, to
see how much heart and soul she leaves on the floor, look no further than her
knees and elbows.
“If
you look at Nicole’s elbows and knees, you’d know what she means to this team
and what kind of hustle she puts forth in games and practices,” said Cardinals’
coach Morgan Funsten. “There’s not a spot on her knees and elbows that are not
covered in bruises.”
Upper Dublin senior Nicole Kaiser
Kaiser
doesn’t consider those cuts and scrapes as badges of honor or battle scars.
They’re just the result of doing what needs to be done for the team to be successful.
And Kaiser is ready and willing to do whatever it takes to earn the W. There
may be no place in the scorebook to record who dove to save an errant pass from
going out of bounds, but the two or three points it leads to can have a huge
effect on the final score.
“Loose
balls are there for anyone … and it’s just who wants it more,” Kaiser said.
“Going after loose balls, doing whatever you have to do to make a play, at this
point of the season, one of the most important parts of the game is who wants
it more and hustles more. That makes a huge difference.”
That
hustle, that effort, that leadership from Kaiser – as well as from her fellow
senior co-captain Maggie Weglos – has played a huge part in leading a very
young Cardinal team to a stellar regular season and a remarkable ongoing
postseason run that has seen the squad become only the second team in program
history to reach the PIAA State Quarterfinals.
To
reach the quarters, the Cardinals rallied to down District 3 top seed Garnet
Valley in the second round, but it was the state opener that will remain one of
Kaiser’s all-time greatest memories on the floor for the red-and-white.
After
being discharged from the state tourney in the opener last year by Cardinal
O’Hara, Upper Dublin faced District 12’s top seed in this year’s opener as
well. Though the Lions boast several Division I recruits – and held a
double-digit lead in the first half – the Cardinals employed a stifling defense
as they battled their way back to pull off a stunning 42-35 upset.
“That
win felt amazing,” Kaiser said. “We had a bunch of girls step up throughout the
game, we didn’t give up, and everyone kept playing hard.”
“I can’t
say enough about the entire group from the O’Hara game,” Funsten added. “After
being embarrassed by them last year, the level of focus all the girls had, and
the leadership from Nicole and Maggie, it was remarkable.”
A
key factor in the Cardinals’ season – and in overcoming large deficits in critical
games – has been their ability to refocus and bounce back after heartbreaking
losses. Though the Cards’ record stands at 22-5, those handful of losses
include a double-overtime loss to Plymouth Whitemarsh, a triple-OT defeat at
the hands of Lancaster Catholic, and a three-point loss to Council Rock North
in the district playoffs.
Young
though the team may be, the Cardinals know how to respond to adversity. And
that ability can be traced directly back to the leadership that Kaiser and
Weglos provide.
“If
you saw the practices we had the day after each of those tough losses, you
would not be surprised with us being able to turn it around,” Funsten said. “Teams
will follow what the leaders do. Nicole and Maggie, they were embarrassed, mad,
upset after those losses. And they showed the rest of the team what needed to
be done.
“Those
day-after practices, sometimes you come in and you’re feeling horrible coming
off a loss. I can honestly say that I got chills at times watching them
practice the next day after a loss. It wasn’t sulking, it was practicing with the
purpose of improving. Nicole and Maggie were leading them, showing them how to
bounce back, how to be resilient. And the rest of the team took it to heart and
learned from it.”
Kaiser
is quick to share any such credit with her coaching staff, and especially with her
fellow captain.
“I
try to be a little bit of both a vocal leader and a leader by example,” Kaiser
said. “I think I’m more the lead-by-example type, where Maggie’s got more of an
outgoing personality, she’s always talking. But I think either of us are
willing to step up and give the hype speech or the serious talk, and we both
work really hard in practice. And you just hope that all trickles down to the
rest of the team.”
That
work ethic has been instilled in Kaiser since her earliest days on the athletic
fields.
“You’re
not handed anything,” she said. “You’ve got to work for it. And I really just
love the game, so I’ve never felt like it was a chore to go out and shoot or to
practice. I enjoy it, and I think that makes me work hard to earn my playing
time.”
It
was an incident in soccer – not basketball – that instilled that attitude in
Kaiser. She had played both sports as a youngster, but in the fall of eighth
grade, she was cut from the middle school soccer team.
“I
was upset that I got cut, but I realized that I would play soccer in the fall, and
once the season was over, I wouldn’t play again until next fall,” she said.
“That put things in perspective for me. If you want to be good at something, you
have to put your all into it and work on it all the time.
“So
I started focusing on basketball. And all through what would have been soccer
season, I played basketball all the time, and I really started falling in love
with it.”
Strong
camaraderie on her first AAU basketball team helped seal the deal for Kaiser.
And when she wasn’t practicing or working out with her AAU friends, she and her
father would spend countless hours in the driveway or at the YMCA shooting
hoops or running drills.
“My
dad has been a huge part of my success,” Kaiser said. “He worked with me a lot.
I wouldn’t be anywhere without him helping me throughout my career. It started
with what he saw in me when I was younger and believing in me throughout the
whole thing, he encouraged me to work harder and get better, and he worked with
me to help me get better.”
That
she did. That work ethic saw Kaiser go from an eighth grader with unrealized
potential, to a much-improved freshman who earned some varsity playing time, to
a sophomore with an increased role on the team. From there, Kaiser blossomed
into a two-time First-Team All-League selection.
“Nicole
has worked so hard to get to where she is,” Funsten said. “We always keep our
eye on the middle school and pay attention to the top players, and Nicole will
tell you, there were several girls on her eighth-grade team who were ahead of
her. She really caught our eye in ninth grade as a player who was improving
daily. She earned some very valuable minutes as a sophomore, and her junior
year was just a huge leap forward in her development.
“And
now, she does whatever we ask her to do, and she does it well. If the team
needs energy, she’s there to provide energy. She’s a relentless rebounder,
scorer, we’ve asked her to step up her game defensively as well this year, and
she’s turned into great defensive player.”
And
though her game has changed and improved over the years, some things never
change. Kaiser admits to being a very superstitious person when it comes to
preparing for basketball games. Without giving too many secrets away, let’s
just say there are more than a few items of clothing that Kaiser needs to wear
to every game, and that the local Wawa had better be fully stocked on soft
pretzels and Cliff bars on days where the Cardinals take to the court.
But
no matter how many more games remain in Upper Dublin’s historic season, Kaiser
knows these are not only her last high school games, but also her curtain call
for her competitive basketball career. In the fall, Kaiser will head to the
University of Central Florida with an eye on pursuing a degree in marine
biology. And if UCF Knights’ basketball is in her future, it will be as a fan
rather than as a player.
“When
I was deciding on college, what was really important to me was that I had to
love the school whether it was with or without playing basketball there,” she
said. “I wanted to make sure I didn’t choose a school just for basketball. I visited
a few schools and couldn’t see myself there if not for basketball.
“I
absolutely fell in love with UCF when I walked on campus. It was one of the toughest
decisions I’ve ever made to choose not to play basketball in college, but that
also makes this season more special for me. I want it to be our best season. I don’t
want to look back and ever regret anything, I want to finish strong with what I
started at Upper Dublin, and I’m hoping maybe I’ll be able to play club
basketball in college.”
And
when this young Upper Dublin squad returns next season, a year older and more
experienced, what lessons does she hope she’s helped to instill in the
underclassmen?
“I
hope they remember that you have to want it more than the other team, but more
than that, you also have to work harder,” she said. “I think the main thing
Maggie and I want to leave behind is staying focused, if things go wrong, you
have to stay focused, bounce back, and work even harder.”
I spent most of the first 17 years of my career—plus four years of
college—inside a newsroom.
Being a journalist can lead to a very sedentary lifestyle. It can also
lend itself to some bad decisions when it comes to food.
I can recall many all-you-can-eat pizza buffet lunches in college, as
well as late-night runs to the local convenience store for two-for-a-dollar
“Death Dogs” and Jolt Cola. I have many memories of evening shifts in the
Montgomery Newspapers sports department where we’d order a couple pizzas and
Cokes at 8:30 PM and snack on it throughout the night.
And over those 17 years, those decisions were compounded by poor choices
at home and lack of exercise. And I got heavier and heavier.
With my daughter Sydnee at her bat mitzvah in April 2016. I
weighed about 325 pounds, was unable to button my
jacket or the collar of my shirt, and my wedding ring
no longer fit on my ring finger.
I’d tried numerous times over the years to shed the weight. Sometimes,
a diet-and-exercise plan would last two weeks. Sometimes, a week. Sometimes,
until dinner. And despite all the places where I should have been able to find
the motivation to lose weight and get healthy, I kept coming up short.
When my nephew went skydiving to celebrate his 18th
birthday, I told him that I’d lose weight to get under the 250-pound weight
limit and go skydiving with him. It never happened.
As both my daughters’ bat mitzvahs approached, I knew there would be
rounds and rounds of family photos that I wouldn’t want to see myself in if I
looked the way I did. I couldn’t drop the weight.
Most importantly, I watched as my father suffered—and continues to suffer—through
diabetes, two heart attacks, renal failure, and myriad other health issues
brought on by poor eating habits and lack of exercise, and I couldn’t even find
the proper motivation knowing that I was walking down that same path.
Sometimes, the motivation comes from a place you wouldn’t expect.
In March of 2017, an all-staff email appeared in my inbox at AlphaBioCom. Our company president was inquiring if
anyone was interested in joining him in the Philadelphia Half-Marathon or Marathon in
November. A few days later, he stopped by the editorial department to follow up
on his email. After asking the rest of the department, he turned to me.
“Craig, are you in?”
“I’m sorry, have you seen me
lately?” At this point, I was tipping the scales at about 323 pounds.
“I’ve seen people twice your size do it.”
“First of all … no, you haven’t. Second of all … I could probably walk 13 miles.”
“Great! You’re in.”
Shortly thereafter, I let my wife know that in eight months, I would be
competing in the Philadelphia Half-Marathon. Up to that point in my life, the
closest I’d ever come to a marathon was watching three seasons of Game of Thrones in a week-and-a-half. I don’t recall the exact words of her understandably supportive
response, but I do remember that it included “insane” and “heart attack.”
We in the editorial department joked about it for a few days before a
thought popped into my head. “You know, I don’t want to embarrass myself. Maybe
I should at least try to get into a
little better shape.”
I’ve never been able to follow diet plans, point plans, and the like. But
I found that I was able to take tips and habits from others, and it turned into
my own plan. And I started doing a lot of things I never thought I’d do.
I started drinking protein shakes for breakfast, and spent time on Sunday nights preparing
lower-calorie and higher-protein meals to pack for lunch every day. I had a
consultation at my gym with a trainer who suggested that I add some weight
training before my cardio activities. I downloaded at-home workout videos and
began waking up early to run through a video each morning. I bought a fitness
tracker to keep me motivated to hit 10,000 steps a day and used its app to help
keep track of my calories. And perhaps most shocking of all, I purchased
compression pants.
My exercise plan was simple: Hit my 10,000 steps every day. Get to the
gym at least three times per week, and on the days I didn’t get to the gym, do
a workout video in the morning and walk around the neighborhood at night.
I learned some important things along the way:
Slow and easy is
the way to go. At 323 pounds, there was no way I could start training for the
marathon right away. For the first several months, I worked on my cardio by
walking in the neighborhood or on a treadmill, or used the elliptical at the
gym. It wasn’t until I lost 40 pounds or so that I began running.
You’ve heard this
one before, but, it’s not about dieting, it’s about changing your eating habits.
Cutting out certain foods simply doesn’t work for me. I need the occasional
pizza, burger, or handful of potato chips. I just made sure I was eating at the
right times, burning off more calories than I was consuming,
and practicing portion control. And if I cheated … which I did … I didn’t beat
myself up over it. I just tried to do better the next day.
Sometimes, you’re
going to look stupid. I always avoided the elliptical because it looked so
silly. But it gave me the relative motion of running without the pounding on my
knees and feet. I made sure to do the workout videos only when no one else was
home because I was embarrassed for anyone to see me. After a while, I stopped
caring. It became more important to get in shape than to look silly to total
strangers who didn’t care anyway, or to my family, who hopefully understood
that I was doing this for them as well as for myself.
There may be nothing more important than having an
accountability buddy. When I downloaded the same workout videos that a
colleague was using, I was greeted every morning with, “Did you do the video
last night?” When I didn’t, I heard about it. It kept me honest, and kept me
motivated.
At a doctor’s visit in early April, I weighed 320 pounds. When I went
back in late June, I was at 282. Three months later, I was down to 261.
There were, of course, setbacks along the way. On August 5, in my first
5K, I came out of the run with a fractured elbow (don’t ask). That derailed my
weight-training and workout videos for several months. And in mid-September,
some issues with cramping in my right calf forced me to cut down on the cardio for
a few weeks.
Still, I kept focused, and while my weight went down, my cardio and
endurance went up. I dropped well below “pre-diabetic” and “morbidly
obese” levels for the first time in numerous years. My blood pressure and cholesterol
went down.
And on November 18, following a week filled with a lot of self-doubt and
nerves, I lined up with eight of my coworkers and ran in the Philadelphia
Half-Marathon. We ran when we could, walked when we needed to, and three hours
later, I crossed the finish line of an event that nine months earlier, I could
never have even conceived that I could have finished.
Me at the end of the Philadelphia Half-Marathon in
November. I weigh about 255 pounds, am down two
pants sizes, and I can wear (and button) an older suit that
I hadn't been able to fit in for at least four years. My
wedding ring still doesn't fit (now, it's too big).
But while I may have crossed a finish line on that day, I did not reach
my ultimate finish line, nor will I ever. I know that I will battle my urges
for the rest of my life when it comes to making healthy choices with foods and exercise.
I do not enjoy exercising. I do not feel
energized and powered up after a workout. I do not go to the gym because I want to. I go because I know that I have to. Every time that I go to the gym
or the park, I do so against every desire telling me that it’s far easier to
sit on the sofa watching TV. And every quarter-mile I run, every step I take, I
do so through a conscious effort to continue running when every bone in my body
tells me to walk the rest of the way, or just stop completely. My fitness
tracker may give me a goal to aspire to, but getting there is a challenge,
every day, every step.
Nor do I ever foresee a day where my food preferences will change. I
will always take a pepperoni pizza over a low-calorie wrap. I will always prefer
a handful of M&Ms or Doritos to a handful of grapes. So I need to remain vigilant
that I am making the right decisions when it comes to what, when, and how
much I eat.
***
I entered 2017 weighing nearly 325 pounds. I was tired all the time,
always felt stuffed, and hated the way I looked. I enter 2018 about 70 pounds
lighter, with more muscle and energy, less joint stiffness, and I sleep better
(mostly because I no longer snore, so I’m not awoken multiple times at night by
my wife telling me to stop snoring). And as I look ahead to 2018, I’ve got a
few more firsts I’d like to accomplish. I’d like to try skiing and ziplining,
and my nephew is now 28, so I’m hoping that the next time he’s in
town, we can finally book that skydiving outing that's a decade overdue.
As for the continued motivation from my workmates, we’re eyeing another
half-marathon, a Spartan Sprint or mud run, and many will join me as I return after a
five-year hiatus to the ACS Bikeathon this summer.
***
You never know where inspiration is going to come from.
As recently as four years ago, the thought that I would no longer be
involved in journalism was incomprehensible to me. The concept that I would one
day be an editor at a medical communications company was not even in my
universe of thought.
As recently as one year ago, the thought that I could run in a
half-marathon was just as incomprehensible to me. Yet I’ve got a ringing
Liberty Bell medal that proves that I accomplished just that.
We all hope to find jobs where we can have an effect on others, and
maybe make the world a little better. If we’re really lucky, we become better
ourselves. I found a job three years ago that has helped me to become a better
editor and a better manager. I never expected that it would also help me become
a healthier—and better—person as well. And whether my colleagues helped me
directly or indirectly—whether they are aware of their influence or not—I hope
they know that I am eternally grateful for their help and inspiration.
And that I continue to curse their names with every step that I run.
If anyone is interested in more
detail on my regimen, I'm happy to share if it helps others. Please feel free to email me here or leave a comment below. I want to note,
obviously, that I am not a doctor or a fitness trainer. What worked for me
might not work for you. All I know is that if someone as lazy as me can go from
couch potato to half-marathon, you can too.
Al was certainly an odd sort of fellow. A tall, lanky gentleman sporting a huge shock of curly hair, glasses and a mustache, Al and I first crossed paths in the summer of 1984. While listening to the radio, I came across Al, touting the benefits of proper eating habits.
I got to know Al a little better that summer. A master of the accordion, Al had a great fondness (bordering on obsession) for food, television and polka music. He also had the uncanny ability to drive my parents crazy. Which meant that “Weird Al” Yankovic, and his album “In 3-D,” was in constant rotation on my record player.
Not long after, I came across his eponymous debut LP, and I snatched it up and played it often enough to learn all the songs by heart … and to drive my parents even more crazy.
In those days, it wasn’t easy to keep up with your favorite artists. With no Internet to keep me up-to-date on all things Al, my only recourse was to ride my bike to the local mall and check the “Upcoming Releases” list at the record store (anyone remember Sound Odyssey?) in hopes of finding Yankovic’s name. My patience would pay off with “Dare to be Stupid,” featuring the masterpiece parody “Yoda” (I was also a massive Star Wars fan).
Though I got older and became interested in more “mature” pursuits, I remained a fan of the goofy-looking guy. I continued buying his albums (though I switched over to cassette tape with his 1988 album “Even Worse”). And when Yankovic made his motion picture debut in the epic feature film “UHF,” I was there in the theater. In fact, I actually took a young lady to see the movie on a first date. Fortunately, she was smart enough to find a guy who had better things to do in life than sit in front of MTV waiting to record the latest “Weird Al” videos, but to this day, I can say to her “We don’t need no stinkin’ badgers!” and she knows what I’m talking about.
My love of all things Al became much more low-key during my college years. After all, it’s hard to compete with fraternity brothers and keg parties with pickup lines like “Wanna come back to my dorm room and listen to the new ‘Weird Al’?”
But once I was out into the real world, I was again free to listen to my “Weird Al” CDs and sit in front of MTV waiting to record the latest “Weird Al” videos.
When CDs eventually gave way to MP3s, Yankovic’s catalog of music was among the first that I made sure I had. And the “Weird Al” mix tape and mix CD became the ever-changing “Weird Al” playlist on my iPod.
Though the years progressed, my love for music that my parents had often called “juvenile” and “silly” never did. In fact, it helped me get through one of the toughest times in my adult life.
For about a year or so in the early 2000s, I was trapped in a job I truly despised. Not only were conditions awful, but the nighttime schedule wreaked havoc with my relationship with my wife (who I rarely saw) and my year-old daughter. Through much of my employment, I struggled with a fairly serious case of depression.
I found myself turning to my “Weird Al” playlist more and more often during my 45-minute commutes to and from work. The humor and fun of Yankovic’s songs helped me face the hell that the upcoming 8.5 hours would unleash on me, and it let me unwind and smile a little bit after many a miserable night at the office.
I worked my way through that … and as my daughter and I both got older, we shared the fun of Yankovic’s music. He was the perfect bridge into more, dare I say, “mature” music after several years of Disney/kiddie music she listened to. Her first concert, at age 7, was “Weird Al.” Three years later, she’s looking forward to her third “Weird Al” concert.
I had the chance to meet Yankovic and have my picture taken with him following a show at the Keswick Theatre in Glenside a few years ago. Though much of the 30-second-long meeting remains a blur, I do remember telling him that to me, meeting him was akin to meeting Paul McCartney or John Lennon. And prior to his performance last year at the Keswick, I had the opportunity for a 15-minute one-on-one interview with Yankovic. After he graciously answered all my questions, I did something I’ve only ever done once in my career — I broke the veneer of the unbiased journalist and turned into a drooling, 12-year-old fanboy. But it was worth it. After all, how often do you get the chance to tell someone how important they’ve been to you, how much of a positive effect they’ve had on you throughout your life, how much happiness they’ve brought you?
I’ll have a chance to see Al again on May 20, when he comes to the Keswick Theatre. I’ll throw on my White and Nerdy T-shirt, grab the wife and kids, and head down for the fourth time I’ve seen him perform live. Much like the last three times, I expect to see a thoroughly enjoyable multimedia show, complete with video clips, costume changes and maybe even a stormtrooper or two. And much like the last three times, I expect to be singing along to every word. And when his latest CD, “Alpocalypse,” is released on June 21, I will be among the first in line (or online) to purchase the new tunes.
Because I am a devoted fan. I am an Al-coholic … a Yankovite … a Close, Personal Friend of Al. I am “Fat,” and I am “White and Nerdy,” and I am proud of it.
