This is not my usual blog post. If you’re looking for something to inspire your running, you won’t get it from me this time. It’s not the smoothest, most beautiful piece of writing, but it’s something I had to write.

My grandfather moved on from this life early Sunday morning.

As I lay in bed, beginning to process the news, I did what most people would do in this situation – I went to the memories. What I began to realize as I searched my memory is that he taught me much more than I ever realized or appreciated while he was alive.

Among the many accomplishments in his life, Kenneth Potter opened and ran a successful produce market in downtown Holland for nearly 30 years. That entrepreneurial spirit was enstilled in his children and grandchildren, many of whom have gone on to start their own businesses. That spirit is alive in me, though I haven’t found the best way to express it.

He and my grandmother had 5 children, 24 grandchildren, and 35 great-grandchildren with many more on the way. They have attended everything from piano recitals to choir concerts to band concerts, football games to soccer matches to track meets. Track and Cross Country are not the most glamorous sports, but they always made sure to make it to a couple meets per season. I didn’t realize it at the time, but between all the grandchildren (and we were a busy bunch) they must have spent every single night during the school year at some kind of event, and never begrudgingly. They loved to see their family be successful.

Beyond all that, the greatest gift he ever gave me was the one lesson I don’t think he meant to teach. Over the years I have seen my grandpa grow as a man. I always assumed that once you hit a certain age, you just stayed the same; and maybe some people do. But Grandpa Potter was open to continuous growth. As we grandchildren grew up in a new and very different era than he was familiar with, we often challenged his worldview and flew in the face of what he perceived to be the norm. By no means was he a perfect person; he was most certainly a product of the era during which he grew up. As an example, he was none too pleased one year at Christmas when I showed him a picture of my new girlfriend (now my wife). It was impossible for him to conceive of one of his grandchildren being with someone of a different race, and it elicited a (highly inappropriate) viceral response. It wasn’t his fault (at least not totally), it was something he’d never had to think about before. The great thing about my grandpa was that I could say right to his face that I did not appreciate his comments, and it never changed the way he felt about me. It took time, and the first time they met was very awkward, but by our wedding day he had accepted Mindy as a member of his family, and loved her as his own. I respect him so much for that. It would have been easy to hold a grudge and reluctantly accept what he could not change. But that is not the path he chose. He chose to examine himself (with Grandma’s help, I’m sure) and adapt to a new time in order to love better.

There are many more examples that I could go in to, but there is one in particular that strikes my passions. At what most would consider late in life to do so, Grandpa decided to quit smoking. Most New Year’s resolutions fail fairly quickly, but this one lasted nearly 30 years, never waivering. It’s never too late to change.

I think sometimes people take my lack of transparency as a lack of caring. I don’t post every thought and emotion on facebook or make grand entrances to family events – it’s not my style. It wasn’t Grandpa’s style, either. He didn’t want to burden anyone with his problems. If he was having a bad day, no one but Grandma knew about it. That’s what made it so hard to see him at the end. He didn’t want us to see him like that; he didn’t want us to hurt.

If you’re still reading, you’re probably related to me. I could not stop shaking while I typed this. I left and came back to the computer numerous times, just so I could try to compose myself. We all loved Grandpa, and he will be missed. I don’t want this to become a 1500 word essay, so I will end with this: let the lessons you’ve learned be his legacy. Thank you, Gramps, for everything.

“Vacation used to be a luxury, but in today’s world it has become a necessity” -Author Unknown

I love taking vacation.

It’s great to visit an old stand-by (for us, it’s Chicago), but it’s even better to visit someplace new. Someplace with new experiences, new challenges, and new landscapes. From the Smokey Mountains in Tennessee to the ocean front of Wilmington, North Carolina to the hilly terrain of San Francisco, this country is riddled with natural beauty and wonder. Every time I visit somewhere like this, I get out of the car and take a deep breath, as if to take it in and let it marinate in my brain. Then, once we’re unpacked and settled in to wherever we’re staying, I go for a run as a way to further check out my surroundings. But how often do I do this at home?

Over the past year or so, it has become evident to me that I live in one of those places of natural beauty and wonder. Being in a region that is very attractive to tourists, I often get comments from customers about what an amazing area this is. First time visitors are always blown away by the fact that you cannot see across Lake Michigan. Whether it’s the way the Grand River carves its way through the palm of the state or the way the sandy dunes of the shoreline rise up to provide breathtaking views, West Michigan is abundant with beauty.

When I was a child, I thought Michigan was boring. I longed for adventure in other places, but we were rarely able to vacation far from home. When I became financially independent, I decided to start looking for those other places. Yes, I have enjoyed my vacations, and I have many pictures of the mountains and other places we have visited. But, in traveling, I have learned to appreciate where I grew up and where I continue to live.

In the past 10 days, I’ve been on the beach, had a picnic, run a local trail, gone apple picking, run the eastern end of Lake Macatawa, and eaten dinner overlooking the lake. Never was I in the same place twice, and never was I more than 15 miles from my home.

A common sentiment I’ve heard either on vacation or around vacationers is that if they lived in <insert vacation spot>, they would do “this” (whatever cool, vacationey thing they’re doing at the time) every day. I think it’s fairly obvious to most of us that this is not true. After merely a couple weeks, the excitement and newness would wear off, and they would continue living just as they did in whichever place they lived before, and that cool, vacationey thing would be old hat. Well, it’s time to rediscover the cool things about where you live; whether that’s West Michigan or somewhere else, it’s time to take a vacation in your own back yard.

“If the only tool you have is a hammer, you tend to see every problem as a nail.” -Abraham Maslow

I’ve never enjoyed running in a hat.

Nothing against hats. In fact, i own many of them and wear them frequently – just not for running. And again, I have nothing against those who do run in hats (I’m quite certain that “Big Daddy” runs in a hat most times, and I’ve also witnessed “Trail Guy” in a hat once or twice out on the trail), it’s just not for me. With that said, I thought I’d throw on a hat to enhance my visibility the other morning.

I could not have anticipated the impact such an innocuous decision would have on my running.

I’ve been in a bit of a funk lately with my running. Over the past couple of weeks, running has been laborious and (mostly) unenjoyable. The many parts of my body never seemed to be in sync with each other; the right side of my body and the left side of my body have not been getting along, and the bottom half of my body has been sick and tired of carrying the top half of my body around all the time. Head, shoulders, knees, and toes (knees and toes) have all been achy before, during, and after runs. Breathing has been forced, and pace has been sluggish. In other words, running had not been going well. Until I donned the magic hat.

I do not believe the hat itself possesses any magical powers (though it’d be cool if it did, right?), but something happened when I ran with that hat upon my head. I felt like a different runner. I made one accessory change that, though small, completely changed what I felt like while running. Just having the pressure of a hat around my head gave me a whole new sensation. Because I felt differently, I ran differently. Technically, I don’t know if my body was moving in a different way, but psychologically I felt different. I felt like a new runner; like one with no memory of how dreadful the last couple weeks have been.

Although this transformation happened entirely by accident, I hope to remember this trick for the future. There will be more funks, after all.