For as long as I can remember, I was running to keep up with my dad.
He ran cross country at Bishop Lynch, here in Dallas, among teammates who had just won three back-to-back state championships. They set an aggressive pace for him, and he paid it forward in the example he set for me, as an athlete, as a coach, and as my dad. He showed me that you have to remain calm and steady in the hard miles, because sitting in the difficulty is exactly the stress that builds endurance. You fall back on that endurance when life gets, inevitably, harder than a foot race.
The photograph at the top of this page is my favorite of us. My medal is around my neck, the New York finish cape around him, because I wrapped him in it. It was my birthday weekend, and my whole family had come up to watch me run.
On May 20, 2026, he crossed his own finish line. His death was unexpected, but peaceful, and surrounded by family. Life isn’t a start-to-finish race, it’s a relay, and he passed the baton to me.
I’m a running coach now. I train on his old routes around White Rock Lake, in his footsteps, literally, and I carry what he taught me into every plan I write. Excellence, the kind where the job isn’t done until it’s done right. And kindness, the small, deliberate kind that can change a person’s whole day. His thoughtfulness is the best thing I bring to your training, and it’s why I keep my coaching small enough to notice when something in your week is off.
I coach the way he taught me, by example. The time has never mattered as much as how you allow the miles to change you.
If that’s the kind of coaching you’re looking for, let’s talk.
Vince.
