I was twenty years old and deeply in love with two fellas
at BYU. To one I gave my heart. To the other I gave my blood.
Fortunately, this has not been a conflict for me; loving
multiple men. One started out pretty
small, and never had to challenge Dave for my affections. That’s my Johnny, my firstborn and only
son. He owns my heart as well.
John was born when I was an undergrad student at BYU, and
Dave was attending BYU Law School. We huddled as a budding family all those
years ago in our little house in west Provo.
I have such sweetly sacred memories of that singular time in our lives.
Spring ahead a full generation and here we are. A few weeks ago, within hours of the birth of
baby Walter, Johnny’s fourth child, John returned to BYU as the keynote speaker
at a conference in the Marriott School of Business. Dave had a jury trial and could not attend.
(Dang criminals!) But Libby, Kate and I went to hear him deliver his
address. It was a blast from the past
for Libby and me to walk across the campus of BYU, back past the Harris Fine
Arts Building where we had taken most of our classes, past the statue of
Brigham Young and the angular Smoot Administration Building, across the parking
lot to the lovely new edifice for the renowned school of business. We waited on some leather couches in a
sitting area while the conference participants finished their lunch. I watched silently as my boy-turned-to-a-man
interacted with people; students greeting him with a sense of awe, others
feeling his down to earth approachability and sparring in that youthful sort of
way, kind of like flirting but without so many hormones flying around. I watched him and remembered seeing his tiny
face for the first time, all those years ago, his deep brownish black eyes staring
up at me. I remembered thinking “Who are
you? And who will you become, my tiny man?” Seeing him in the town where he was
born…I don’t know…it just sort of felt like the closing of a circle for me.
John, as National Director of Events for The Color Run, as
well as a member of the advisory board for the BYU Department of Recreation at the Marriott School of Business, was introduced with great respect.
He had spent much of the last couple days with the people in attendance,
and they knew of his experience, and expertise.
Couple his knowledge and skill with his unmatched ability to relate to
people and he had them, so to speak, in his pocket from the get go.
He began by projecting a photo of baby Walter up on a large screen
at the front of the room. One hour old.
Beautiful Walter. He talked about
his darling family, and his years at BYU (he has a degree in Philosophy from
BYU). He told about the Color Run, about
its inception as the brainchild of his friend Travis Snyder, and about the
philosophies and tenets that quickly catapulted “The Happiest 5K on the Planet”
into the stratosphere of events.
Then he talked about bagels.
Well, actually, he first asked a question:
“What will you say about this when it's over?”
About this conference, about your experience at BYU, about this
address? He asked the question, not
because he wanted an answer from them. He
wanted them to know that question. That
question, basically, was what he wanted them to take away from his
address. It is what he asks himself
before every event. “What do I want
people to say when they walk away from The Happiest 5K on the Planet?”
Take a look at what the COLOR RUN is about at the end of this post. A basic component of the event is the
throwing of colored cornstarch at various stations along the route. Of course, this is not the only component
that makes this particular event so popular.
There are many imitation runs that have popped up since Travis first shared his brilliant plan with Johnny at his kitchen island. Still the Color Run
blows the others out of the water in success. But color, for sure, is a major
component. Over 2 Million people have participated in the Color Run in the last
30 months. That’s a lot of happy
runners! John oversees all the runs in America, with event directors serving
under him.
One time they were hosting a run in Austin. It had rained for two straight days before
the event. John is not able to be at all the races, since there are often
multiple races in multiple places on any given weekend. Let me correct myself: the Color Run is not
technically a race. They do not time
runners. That, my friends, is part of
what makes it a happy run. There’s a
lesson in that about what competition does to us. Anyway, John happened to be in Austin for
this particular race. The staff begins
setting up for each event around 4 am.
They have been able to, through wisdom, creativity, experience and
teamwork, facilitate these giant parties in a relatively short period of
time. They set up, execute, and clean
up to the pleasure of participants and the satisfaction of the cities that
license them to use their parks and thoroughfares. Somehow they have been able to get anywhere
from 10,000 to 25,000 runners to pass through the start and finish lines in one
single event, have a memorable time, and return the next time the Run comes to town with more
friends.
So here it is 4 am in Austin. They arrive at the venue and find the truck
that is loaded with the colored powder, is mired in mud in the middle of the field
where they hold their after-run concert/party.
John sets out to set up the Start Line, but tells the race director to
make sure the truck gets to the color stations ASAP. He is conscious of the
fact that the stewardship for directing this race lies with the race director. After
a while John looks over at the field and notices the truck is still there. He radio’s the director to take care of the
truck. Just as the sun begins its ascent in the east John looks over again and
sees the truck is still there. At this
point it is getting late for the color stations to have their colored cornstarch
in place. John leaves his own task to
find the race director. He finally finds
him at the finish line, slicing bagels in half.
He asks what’s going on, and the director explains that a whole bagel is
probably too much for each runner, so he decided to cut them. And, noted
Johnny, they were very nicely sliced.
John takes the director to the truck, which is sunken in the
mud, and try as they might they cannot move it from the field. They end up having to hand carry boxes to the
stations, but not before time runs out.
Only two colors were thrown in that race, and there was a lovely panel
truck smack dab in the middle of the party zone.
That director no longer works for The Color Run.
John explained, in his address to event planning students at
BYU, that his objective in telling this story was to help them remember to ask
the question before they start
anything…any event…any relationship…anything that involves people: What do I
want them to say when this is over?
“If we wanted them to say…’Hey, that Color Run has the best
food of any run I’ve ever participated in!’ then we might have fulfilled our
purpose.”
“Imagine the response you want…imagine what you want people
to say when they walk away from your event.
Then work to make them say it.”
That’s basically what my boy taught me and a hall full of students that
afternoon at BYU. I call it the bagel theory.
I have used the bagel theory in my head many times since
then. I have used it in the last month planning
gatherings of songwriters at my house, helping with a wedding and baby shower, taking a friend to birthday lunch, comforting through song at a funeral, even talking on the phone
with my sister. I use it, I should say,
when I have my wits about me. Sometimes, when I am overworked, or overtired, or overstressed, or even under confident, I catch myself figuratively "cutting bagels"…keeping myself busy with less important tasks while the important ones sit stuck in a field waiting for me to address them. When I
forget to use the bagel theory I often find myself backtracking, trying to
correct my mistakes, or bemoaning my failures.
But when I remember to ask ahead of time...when I have power to direct
my actions rather than correct them…well I find it amazingly useful. I relieve myself from worry over things I cannot control, and I take control where I am supposed to. It doesn't make everything perfect, but it helps keep me in the right mindset for success.
As much as I know Johnny asks himself that question before events, I suspect he asks himself similar questions from the quiet of his bedside, or the solitude of his car. Maybe his newest question is this:
"What do I want Walter to say about this when it's over?"
And, since we are coming up on the holiest week of the year,
tomorrow being Palm Sunday, perhaps the ultimate question to ask is “What do I
want my King and Master to say when this is over?”
Click
HERE if you want to know about THE COLOR RUN.
And
HERE for a video.
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The Color Run is eco-friendly. And human mother friendly, as well. |
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John being blown away by some of his amazing Color Run team. |