And sometimes we don't thank those people when we should.
When I was in high school, one of my friends talked me into joining the cross country team. I wasn't an exceptional runner by any means, and I'm honestly not sure I would have stuck with it all four years—and I definitely wouldn't have done track—if it weren't for the people on the team. Throughout those years, they became a second family to me, and I wouldn't even want to think about what high school would have been like without them. Especially my coach.
Coach Dittmar had been coaching for years before I became a part of her program, so she'd led many kids before me, but she has a way of making each person feel so significant—as if you are the only person she is coaching. It didn't take long for me to realize that I could count on her whenever I needed. When I was having a minor anxiety attack before my first time to step on the starting line, she was there to give me a pep talk to calm me down. Then she popped up in random spots along the course and started shouting numbers at me (as if I really knew what splits were). And she appeared again after I crossed the finish line, breathing harder than I had expected, where she gave me a hug and said, "See, aren't you glad you joined the team?"
Dittmar, you have no idea how glad.
Looking back, I don't know how she tolerated me sometimes. Or any of us, for that matter. After being a teacher and coach myself, I've learned just how challenging it can be to go to work every day and try to lead a bunch of teenagers on the right paths in life. It can be pretty daunting, but I think a lot of the knowledge I have comes from learning from her. She didn't just meet us at practice every morning because she enjoyed seeing the sunrise while torturing a bunch of high schoolers with hill repeats—she came because she actually cared.
One thing I've learned about working with teenagers is that things are often blown out of proportion. I know it's hard to believe, but high school students can be a bit dramatic about even the smallest things. I was guilty of it, too. Sadly, though, when we get so wrapped up in our own worlds, we often forget to thank the people who deserve it the most, because we overlook just how much they do for us. Coach Dittmar retired from coaching recently, and I want to thank her for so many things she did for me.
Dittmar, thank you for never letting me quit—even when I tried to get a schedule change out of track, you didn't let me. Thank you for standing out in the pouring rain and calling out each lap split in the 3200 at that one track meet that got canceled after my race. Thank you for locking the girls varsity team in your office when we were fighting and not letting us out until we settled our differences--it was one of the most uncomfortable times for us all, but you were teaching us valuable life lessons, and I appreciate you caring so much about that. Thank you for riding your bike alongside us during our long runs and making sure everyone from the lead runner to the back of the pack knew where to go. Thank you for being fair, even when I claimed you weren't—and thank you for not slapping me across the face when I deserved it for insisting you weren't being fair. Thank you for giving me the best pre-race pep talks and letting me know you really did believe I could accomplish even more. Thank you for letting us call you Ditty.com sometimes, even though we knew you really didn't like that name. Thank you for always listening—truly listening—to me when I came to you with worries or problems that likely weren't that big of a deal but that I acted like were the end of the world. Thank you for not stripping us our captain roles when we decided to play football at the park near the school when we were supposed to be on our easy run the week of the district meet. Thank you for attending the Top 5 Percent banquet with me and then surprising me by bringing Coach Herrema (the best Assistant Coach Water Boy) with you. Thank you for enduring multiple road trips to Regionals, State, and Texas Relays and more Dumb & Dumber and 10 Things I Hate About You quotes than I'm sure you would have preferred. Thank you for making me do 16 400s in a row and saying, "Get on the line," as I tried to open my mouth to complain—you were building my character that day. Thank you for telling me I was going to be a teacher someday (turns out you were right). Thank you for always driving the bus for us and keeping us safe on the way. Thank you for letting Sabina and me sing on the bus rides home and for not throwing us out the windows, because we weren't very good. Thank you for loving a bunch of fun-loving kids trying to find their places in this world.
I know there are a million other things for which I could thank you, but that might turn into a novel. And I'm sorry I didn't thank you more when you actually did these things. You dedicated so much of your own time and energy to us when you easily could have been doing many other things for yourself. But if you were ever tired or frustrated, it never showed. After we graduated and then you moved to coach at another school, I know you continued to impact a countless amount of other people. Selfishly, I like to think we were your favorites, but I also know that you have a way with making every single person—from the fastest to the slowest—feel like your favorite.
Because you always knew that running was really about so much more than running.
Many of us have our own Coach Dittmars in this world, and they are people who help us learn not only how to fight though tough times but also how to be better people regardless of the outcomes. These individuals are in their own special category, because they possess a unique kind of selflessness that we should all hope to attain. These are the people who often change the world but never get the recognition—though they likely wouldn't want the attention, anyway.
These are the ones about whom Bette Midler sings, and they are the ones who deserve more thanks than we could ever give.
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