Confessions of a Bloomsday Hypocrite

I got to run Bloomsday a couple weeks ago as part of the Spokane Symphony's corporate cup team. Here's how it works - companies enter 5 employees to form a team. Each individual times gets points based on the fastest time for someone in that age group. On our team both Ellen and I ran close to 1 hour 10 minutes, but my time counts as 633 points and for Ellen it counted as 909 points. So she's older. I don't know by how much, but she also beat me by 10 seconds!

When you enter as a corporate cup here's what you get

• Best placement for starting. We started with the elite runners, and I got to see both the elite women and elite wheel chair racers start. 
• A cool bag. You fill it with whatever you'll need after the race, they collect it shortly before and then have it waiting for you at the finish line. 
• Party Tent Admission for you and a guest - right past the finish line is a tent with a fence around it. It's full of bananas, free massages, iced coffee, donuts, and David's Pizza.

Corporate Cup costs extra, of course, and our team was sponsored by the syphony's accounting firm. Four years ago I ran my personal best time of 58:56 and reached my long-time goal of breaking an hour. This was when I first became aware of corporate cup, and I was furious. I was a purist.  I wanted justice for the huddled masses who didn't have a voice. "You mean people who are in no shape to run can start ahead of me because they paid extra money? That's totally unfair! Your starting place should be based soley on how fast you are, not how much you are willing to pay!"

Of course, my perspective on justice has much to do with where I am in the system. After getting to participate and be part of the corporate cup, I think it's a great idea letting people who want to pay more start first. And maybe Bloomsday counts on that extra money to function each year. If Corporate Cup didn't exist, would a regular entry fee be much more?

One of the reasons I love to run is how running is a metaphor for life. Here's a couple ways Bloomsday intersected with my life right now.

Ellen and I ran the first two miles together, and the pace was much to fast for both of us. Near mile 2 on a hill she told me to go ahead thinking she was holding me back. I had started way too fast and ended up walking twice near the end, something that is against my personal runing code - never walk. Ellen kept a steady pace and ended up passing me near the end.

In the race that is life I have a symphony job for the second time in my life, and since the recent strike, I'm worried about my job being here in 10 or 15 years. I have jumped into this job sprinting making videos supporting the symphony and being the musician rep at the marketing meetings. I know several of the veteran musicians served the symphony when they were new to the symphony and now wouldn't be caught dead on a committee. I wonder if I've started to fast and will burn out too.

But near the end of the race when I was walking, someone I didn't know came up behind me and tapped me on the back. "Come on, you got this." and I started running again.

It seems there is always someone there to encourage, sometimes even people we don't know. Those nudges make a difference. And to really do well in any race, you need to dig deep into the 'suitcase of courage' as my brother calls it, and put in some heart and effort that you didn't think you had. It's wonderful that we can activate that in each other sometimes.

I realized although I call myself a runner, I havne't run a race since Bloomsday of last year. I plan to fix that this year and hope to run another half marathon, maybe a 5K, and even a mile race. I'm going to need to start working out.

Nights in White Satin

Last night I got to do something I haven't done in a long time - sit in on someone else's gig. I was invited to go to a restaurant/pub in north Spokane, and sit in with Bob who provides the music there. He plays guitar and sings while a friend who dropped in plays percussion. I would define it as hip updates of anything from the 1960's and newer. Bob played some Beatles, Simon and Garfunkle, and Sting. We also did Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues, complete with the poem 'Late Lament' at the end.

Bob is a solid guitar player with a great voice, but it's the first time I've sat-in with someone since becoming a Symphony musician. Bob and I had a great time, and we were both surprised at some of the good stuff that happened. I found him to be very humble and self depreciating, deferring to me as the trained, classical musician. It's as if I grew up in the bronx, but now I'm attending Princeton and I've gone back to hang in the hood.

I have tremendous respect for musicians like Bob. He had a great sound, and the restaurant loved him.  He could sing while accompanying himself on guitar. He also had chased down the gig, which is always a huge challenge and thrill. He was playing this gig 7-10 pm after working a full day shift as a manager of a used car lot.

Bob had some amazing gig stories to tell. One of the first gigs he had was as a drummer in a rock band playing at a bar. He made $25 playing three nights a week - $75 a week when his Dad as a teamster was only making $90! Bob had to join the musicians union when he was 15, but they only allowed 18 year olds in. He remembered the conversation like this.

Musicians Union "Son, how old are you?"
Bob "15"
MU "You have to be 18 to join the union, so son, how old are you?"
Bob "15"
MU "You have to be 18 to join the union. How old are you son?"
Bob "18"

When the music stopped at 10 pm, the tip jar was near empty, but a couple on the way out the door gave Bob some cash. Then the manager came over and paid him for the night of work. I couldn't see how much it was, but it was 1 bill. $100? I hope so. $50? $20? Bob seemed to think there was a big difference between he and I as musicians. And there are differences, but they aren't as big as Bob thinks. We are both playing every gig we get a chance to play, playing for less money than we are worth, because it makes our life better. Hopefully it's better for the listeners too, because then we'll get to play another gig.

An Afternoon With Monsters

I've long had a closet desire to go see the Monster truck show Monster Jam, and this past weekend I took my boys. After experiencing it, I think it's definitely worth doing once in a lifetime, and I have some tips so you can make the most of it.

1. Buy earplugs. Totally worth $1 on the street for the foam kind.
2. Skip the pit party. I splurged so we could go early, walk on the dirt, and get pictures like this one. My boys didn't enjoy it that much. Save some money and then - 
3. Splurge for tickets on the lower lever. We were in the 200 level seating. At several points in the show the drivers got out of their trucks, ran to a ladder on the side, and climbed into the audience usually passing out a prize. Which leads me to my last piece of advice -
4. Make a sign. Doesn't matter which truck; Grave Digger, Batman, Hot Wheels - but when the drivers run into the audience, they are looking for super loyal excited fans. Having a sign will get the attention of the driver.

The thing that amazed me most about Monster Jam was how attentive the drivers were to the fans. They are so aware that their audience is 3-7 years old and they need to always be growing the audience. Each time the driver of Grave Digger won an event and was handed a trophy he said "Ya know, I have lots of these trophies at home. I think this one belongs with the fans!" and he'd run into the crowd and give it away. The drivers were available at the Pit Party for autographs, and after the show they stayed late to sign an autograph for anyone who wanted one.

One of Grave Diggers trademark moves (I found out) is going backward off a jump after doing it forward. The driver said "It's really hard on the transmission to do that, but I figured these Spokane fans are worth it!" Everyone is very aware of trying to give the fans a good time because with out them, they don't get to drive a monster truck.

Symphony musicians are like Monster Truck drivers. Without an audience, I don't get to play my trumpet as a profession - it turns into a hobby. We have opportunities to meet and greet our fans and give them a great experience. We will always be loosing our audience for different reasons, but we can be more intentional about growing it. If we are to sustain what we do, it's all about relationships. We need to build some.