We live in an era of perpetual distraction. Between Arnold’s indiscretions and Weiner-gate and Casey Anthony’s poor mothering skills and “Carmageddon,” the closure of an LA freeway for 52 hours, and sports TV and lurid cable offerings and Face Book and Twitter and, hell, even blogs like this, it’s like the whole world is a fascinating train wreck and we are all rubberneckers at the scene. Growing up in the 1950’s, we thought network TV was the premiere time waster. It still is, right, you “Bachelorette” cum “Minute to Win It” fans? It’s all entertaining, for sure, and most is about as mentally nutritious as staring at a wall.

Way back in 1985, a cultural critic named Neil Postman wrote a prescient book called “Amusing Ourselves to Death.” Sixteen years later, we now have an endless supply of weapons to get the job done.

But just when you are fed up with all of this malarkey, something pops up on your TV or computer screen that goes way beyond watching stars self-destruct or adorable puppies roll over backwards. My son, a web designer who sits in front of a computer all day, sent me a You Tube video that genuinely stunned me. It’s called “The Race.” You may have seen it – it had 471,272 hits the last time I checked – or you will probably see it soon on the NBC Nightly News or some other mass outlet. Or you can stop reading this and see it right here.

As you can see, its one continuous shot of one 600 meter championship race with four gazelle-like college women runners, with a sound track by Grammy champs Arcade Fire. At the end of the second lap, one of them falls. And gets up. And wins. There, I’ve ruined it for you, but not really. There’s a big difference in hearing an inspiring story and seeing it unfold in real time. The telling of it might reach your brain. The experiencing of it goes much deeper.

How many times has someone told you, or have told yourself, to maintain a positive attitude with your disability and never let it stop you from doing what you want in life? Speaking for myself, it’s a thought that is always in battle with feelings of depression or sadness or just plain weariness. I have a disorder called transverse myelitis and there is some solid scientific evidence that the mood center of my brain is directly affected by the same neuroimmune dynamic that caused the TM. Be that as it may, I would probably be periodically depressed or beaten down anyway. It kind of goes with the territory.

There is always a trigger for these bad feelings. Most recently for me, it’s been a recurring series of infections. A bacterial attack, like a UTI, is not that serious an illness. Take the antibiotic and stop whining. But a recurrence of such infections is demoralizing. They interrupt your rhythm of thinking, working, and living. They throw you off your game, if only for a day or so. You’re always saying, “Okay, tomorrow I am back to full strength and ready to get at it.” Then another hits. Arghh..

So while my urologist or infectious disease specialist tries to get to the bottom of this, I do what any red-blooded American would do – try to amuse myself into a nightly stupor. It’ll pass, I tell myself, so right now I’ll just watch this mediocre crime show and check Face Book and chill.

Then this young woman athletic starts to run the race of her life and falls down! And gets kicked in the head by another runner! While you’re bemoaning her sad fate, she is up and running again. Not limping off the track. Not falling to her knees in tears. And not just putting on a brave show by finishing the race and saving some face. Finishing is not her obsession. She’s running with such a burst of determination and adrenaline that you just marvel at her spirit. Fifty meters later she’s back in the pack. Fifty more meters she’s moving to the front. About then she knows she’s going to win, and you do, too. It’s almost chilling.

Never give up. The next time that timeless dictum strikes you as hollow or clichéd, the next time you feel like one of life’s losers and want to watch Seinfeld for the 144th time, remember the runner Heather Dorniden and the time she fell on her face. And got up.

© 2011 Allen Rucker |