|
Today I’ve got a story for you all that I think illustrates a point about goal setting.
As I have talked about, many times in the past, I grew up in a very small town in the Central Valley of California called Valley Home. It is a tiny, triangular shaped farming town north of Oakdale and east of Escalon. It lies right in the northern sliver of Stanislaus County where the county seat is Modesto.
Valley Home was originally named Clyde, when a tiny train stop of the Southern Pacific Railroad was created between Stockton and Oakdale in 1871. Clyde remained just a small stopping point for the railroad until about 1903 when a bunch of German immigrants moved to the area and created a settlement.
Chief among these immigrants was FD Volkman, and the house I grew up in had actually been purchased from his family by my parents in 1972. FD convinced the railroad to build a depot there, and this led to many other German’s settling the area and starting farms.
There happened to be another train stop nearby that was also called “Clyde”, and that was plenty of pre-text for the townspeople to call for a name change to the town. They renamed the settlement “Thalheim”. When you translate “Thalheim” from German to English it means “home in the valley”.
This all went along very well until about 1914 until a little conflict in Europe, that we now call World War I, broke out. As anti-German sentiment built in the United States the residents felt the pressure to not have such a German sounding name. At the same time, they loved their new country and wanted to demonstrate their patriotism. So, the decision was made to change the name of the town to its English translation, and the town was named “Valley Home”. That is the name that this small farming community still bares today.
I talk about Valley Home frequently on the Off-Farm Income Podcast as a large part of my heart remained there when I was forced to take up residence in the City Of Modesto at age 14. So much so, that we call our current farm in Kuna, Idaho “Thalheim Acres”. However, instead of raising cattle in the Central Valley Of California as I always thought I would, we now raise them in the Treasure Valley of Idaho. Never the less, we have our home in the valley, and we love it and swell with pride when we talk about it.
I’m telling you this story about Valley Home in large part because I like to tell stories about the place in which I grew up. But, to make the point I want to make about goal setting in today’s episode I want to tell you about how I first recognized how big goals help you accomplish big things. And, I want to tell you what the Southern Pacific Railroad and Valley Home had to do with that.
The Southern Pacific railroad operated that spur between Stockton and Oakdale for well over 100 years. So, when I was growing up in Valley Home the train ran through town at least twice per day, sometimes more. My house was separated from the train tracks by Valley Home Road. My window faced the tracks, so when the train came through at night while I was laying in bed I would listen to it and listen to it blow its horn.
Through the miracle of modern technology and an incredible hunting app called OnX, I can tell you the precise distance from my bedroom window, where the head of my bed sat, to where the railroad tracks used to be – 51 yards. So, there was a mere 153 feet separating me from that rolling, steel behemoth, when it came through at night. No wonder I used to think it was possible that if it were to derail that one of the freed train cars would come rolling through through my bedroom.
Actually, the train never came through town very fast. If it had derailed, it would have been about the most boring derailment known to man. And actually, the slow speed in which it came through town really emboldened me and many of my friends to put pennies on the railroad tracks and probably to stand much too close when it came by during the day.
What I always loved so much about that train is that for some reason it always had a caboose. I was always fascinated with that. I had never seen inside of one, but my parents told me that there was a sitting area inside, and the caboose was a way to bring along some passengers when they were transporting grain, livestock feed or whatever else needed to get from Stockton to Oakdale or vice versa. I’ve got a picture of an old, Southern Pacific caboose, up on the website and social media for you to take a look at.
I looked it up, and Wikipedia says, “A caboose is a manned North American railroad car coupled at the end of a freight train. Cabooses provide shelter for crew at the end of a train, who were formerly required in switching and shunting, keeping a lookout for load shifting, damage to equipment and cargo, and overheating axles.” I never see cabooses anymore, but when I was a kid our rail line still used them, and I fantasized about taking a ride on that caboose. I never saw anyone inside of the caboose when it came through town, so I was convinced that I could stow away on there and tramp my way into Oakdale.
I was so convinced of this that my friends and I took a few stabs at hopping onto that caboose. However, we could never catch it because running down railroad tracks is not easy! It kills all of your speed!
If you have never tried this you have to understand how railroad tracks are built. Tracks run on a raised bed of dirt and rock. Not gravel sized rock, but stone sized rock, so that they never get packed into a super tight surface, and there always tends to be some loose rock on top. Wooden railroad ties are placed on top of this rock bed, perpendicular to the direction of the tracks, spaced about 19 inches apart. Then the tracks are laid down on top of the railroad ties and attached to the wood by pounding in large, heavy gauge railroad spikes. To me, it is actually quite amazing that it all stays in one place, but that is how they are built.
The loose rock on the bed creates a challenge to running very fast because your front foot can slip as it comes down on loose rock, or your back foot can slip as you push forward off of it. But, I always found the biggest challenge to getting enough speed to catch the caboose to be the spacing of the railroad ties. I doubt that the engineer who designed this system and came up with the spacing did so to keep 10 year old boys from hopping on the caboose, but whoever came up with this spacing got a two for one.
I don’t think there is a human being in this world, while running, who has a stride of 19 inches. Their stride is either too short or two long, and this means that if you are trying to run full speed on a railroad track you hit a railroad tie awkwardly every third of fourth step. In order to keep from hitting so awkwardly that you fall and face plant you are forced to look down while you run and adjust your stride to hit the railroad ties evenly. This keeps you from falling, but it robs you of a considerable amount of speed.
As I mentioned before, the train that came through Valley Home, came through very slowly. This led to even more aggravation. This problem of catching up to the train would never have plagued me so much, and kept me awake at nights if the train came through town just a bit faster. If it were fast enough that there was absolutely no chance of catching it, I would have given up on this project immediately or never even got started. However, our train was just barely fast enough to keep me from being able to reach out and grab the railing on the back of the caboose while running. You might be wondering, why not just stand there and grab it as it came by and swing on. It wasn’t a fast train, but it was too fast for that! I would have definitely dislocated a shoulder had I tried that.
Today, I consider myself to be a problem solver. I never thought of myself that way when I was a kid, but looking back I can see it. So, I thought and thought about it and I finally came up with a solution to the problem of running on the tracks at a fast enough speed to catch the train.
The answer to the problem was the crossing on Schultz Avenue. Being a kid, a roller skater, ocassional school bus rider and a bicycle rider in Valley Home meant knowing the contours, pitch, smoothness….even the co-efficient of friction of every train crossing within two miles of town. Okay, I actually learned the term coefficient of friction as a police officer, and I still don’t understand what it means.
As a kid there you knew where there was smooth asphalt for skating, that was in front of the Lutheran Church on Michigan Avenue. You also knew where the crossings had a steep enough pitch that they were a natural bicycle jump or if you rode in the back of the school bus you would be propelled upward like a carnival ride as the bus went over, that was the crossing on Dale Road. You would also know which crossing had been worn down by traffic to the point that you barely noticed when your parents drove over it in their car. That particular crossing happened to be Schultz Road, and conveniently, that was right in town.
The Schultz Road Crossing was not only smooth, but it had something that none of the other crossings had – a flat surface of packed dirt leading up to it. Almost every other portion of the railroad had rough ground next to the railroad with weeds and brush growing in it that made it impossible to run through with any speed. And, if you tried to run right next to the tracks it was sloped with large rocks spaced perfectly out to inevitably break an ankle.
The Schultz Road Crossing was different. This crossing was very near the Ben Aker Store, the only store in town which was owned by my God Father, Leroy Aker, and his mother Clara. The front of what we called “The Valley Home Store” faced the railroad tracks from the west side of Valley Home Road. Directly across from the store was also property belonging to the store, where a truck scale had been installed. So, trucks could get weighed there for a fee.
This whole area was kept weed free by vehicles driving on the dirt and parking on that side. So, it created an unobstructed area of dirt that led right up to the very smooth Schultz Road Railroad Crossing. I deduced that if I started far enough back and the train was going towards Oakdale and I timed it well enough that I could hit the asphalt of the Schultz Road Railroad Crossing at top speed, then give it an extra burst to grab the railing of the caboose and swing myself on.
Once I had devised this plan I went to the location to scout it out and test my hypothesis. After running the course a few times I saw that I was correct. Except for a very slight up hill when I went onto the crossing, I could get up to top speed before getting directly behind the caboose.
Reality really started to hit home at that point. I had a couple of things to consider. First, how was I going to get home from Oakdale when my ride was over. Most people that lived in Valley Home worked in Oakdale, so I figured I could just find a ride back out to town. Second, I was definitely going to get into trouble for this. This was a pretty big consideration. I had been in trouble before, and my parents were no slackers in this department. And, they were a united front. This would be a big one. Probably a spanking with the belt followed by a grounding that would last a good long while.
I really needed to weigh this against the reward of finally catching the train. Ultimately, I decided that (A) I would not be able to live with myself if I did not make this happen, and (B) I would be a hero in Valley Home to all kids in our K-8th Grade school and (C) a part of me thought that this story would live on for generations as a Valley Home legend. In my mind, the pros definitely outweighed the cons, and I was committed to this course of action.
If memory serves, I was soon stifled by rain. The bulk of our precipitation came during the winter time, and frequently when it started we would get copious amounts for a while. This meant mud puddles and mud, both of which would rob me of speed. So, I had to wait for proper weather conditions. Finally, about two weeks later the ground was dry and hard again, and I was ready!
The timing of the afternoon train was kind of regular, but sporadic at the same time. It didn’t come everyday, and it wasn’t always on a consistent schedule. This meant that some days I was ready and waiting for it, but it did not appear. Other days I was distracted by hanging out with my friends, and by the time I heard the horn at the Dale Road Crossing it was too late for me to get over to Schultz Road and into position.
So, the waiting went on for another couple of weeks. During this time is when I learned that the “ear to the tracks train detection method” only really works if the train is very close. I put my ear on the tracks several times without hearing anything, only to give up and have the train come by five minutes later when I was no longer there waiting.
Finally the day came. Everything was perfect. It was sunny with no wind, the ground was dry and hard packed, I had on my Cheetah tennis shows which were proven to make you faster, and I was in position and saw the train coming.
I was also all alone. I had been so sure that I would succeed that I did not want to share the glory with anyone. If I had done this with Danny Holt, the best athlete to ever come out of Valley Home, he would have got all the credit. Worse yet, if he and I were going for the train at the same time there was a high likelihood that he would catch it and I would not. Thus, my thunder would have been robbed.
I was not a very fast runner, and this was before I got chubby, so there was a chance that anyone who I shared my newly devised plan with would get on the train at least with me if not without me. I didn’t know what envy was back then, but I knew that I wanted to be the first. I wanted the inevitable legend to be about me.
This was another risk mind you. Since I was doing this by myself, people were going to have to take my word for it that I had actually done it. This might take some serious convincing, but I knew two things. First, it would likely be verified by a newspaper article in the Oakdale Leader or talk around town once I was caught and punished. And second, even if nobody ever believed me I would know that I had done it, and I would receive enough reward from that, that I still did not want to risk having anyone else there.
So, there I stood, all alone, my heart racing and in the best starting line posture that I could conjure. I was about 25 feet from the tracks. I knew from my test runs that this would provide me with the best angle and least loss of velocity as I hit the slight incline onto the Schultz Road Crossing. The train got louder and louder, and the horn blew early because the engineer could see my posture and body language and knew what I was up to. If the horn was sounded early to scare me or warn me off, it had the oppositte effect. It only served to drop an extra dose of adrenaline on an already highly revving engine.
Soon, the mid-point of the train was passing me, and I was looking back over my left shoulder trying to get the timing correct. It was all instinct now, kind of like shooting a dove as it spurts, dodges and twists as it flies past you at a high rate of speed. You just have to trust that your instinct will help you point the gun at the right spot, giving you the perfect angle to hit the bird. An angle that would take a mathematician a full afternoon to deduce on paper but that your gut could provide you with in an instant.
I can remember a strange sense of calm coming over me. Something inside of me allowed me to just wait until I knew. Until I knew that the combination of the train’s speed, my speed and the angle I was going to take would all come together at the perfect moment for me to climb aboard. And at some point, completely unconsciously, I started running. I have no memory of telling myself “now” or any other command to start. Somehow, my mathematical mind took over the controls at the exact moment it needed to and put my feet and arms into motion, and I was off!
Everything was perfect. My body seemed to work effortlessly towards this one goal. I was disciplined enough to not look back at the approaching caboose but to have unbelievable focus on the spot on top of the Schultz Road Crossing that I needed to reach as fast as possible. I knew that when the time was right I would see the caboose coming along side me through my peripheral vision and there was no need to turn my head.
As I approached the slight incline I could feel it all coming together. I was going to hit the asphalt of the crossing in full stride, boost my speed just enough as I swung directly behind the caboose that I would be able to grab the railing and pull myself onto the step before we were back on the rock bed.
I hit the asphalt with everything going exactly as planned. There was noise – the train horn, the train engine, the steel wheels on the steel track, the wind in my ears – but I couldn’t hear anything because of a phenomena that I would later find out is called auditory exclusion. I was at my maximum physical limit, and it felt incredible.
I hit the asphalt and fell in directly behind the caboose, just as planned! I gave myself the final boost and reached out my hand, inches from the steel railing now. Looking at the rail I was about to grab, I had the focus that an eagle has as it dives straight down at terminal velocity to capture its prey. Nothing could distract me, until something did!
Through my peripheral vision, just beyond the platform at the back of the caboose, I saw motion. The back door of the caboose began to crack, and then I realized it was opening. This site caused my pace to slow for a moment, and the distance between my outstretched hand and the railing widened. This delay meant that I was going to have to grab the railing while running across the railroad ties, but I was going so fast I thought I could still do it.
To my great disappointment I saw a man step out of the back door of the caboose and onto the platform. He yelled something to me like “You don’t want to ride this train, we’re going to Mexico”, which of course they weren’t. And suddenly I was completely defeated. I slowed but continued running a few more strides before coming to a complete stop on the railroad bed, right between the tracks.
The man waved at me, and disappeared back into the caboose. I stood there feeling reality coming back to me. My hearing came back and my tunnel vision went away. I could feel my chest heaving for air and the burning in my lungs. And I watched the caboose get smaller and smaller and smaller until it disappeared.
I had watched the caboose go through Valley Home a million times with my imagination going wild, wondering if anyone was inside. My friends and I had chased that caboose together, dozens of times, never getting anywhere close to catching it and never causing anyone to step out onto the landing. Until that very moment I had always assumed that nobody rode in the caboose.
I had never come up with a reasonable explanation for why they towed it around, but I was positive that nobody was inside. I couldn’t believe my luck that the only time anyone had actually been in there, it was the time that I was about to grab hold and jump on.
I turned around and started to walk down the tracks back towards the store. I decided to treat myself to a Pepsi.
Today I know that it was probably just an endorphin rush, but for whatever reason my whole perspective on the situation started to change in an instant. I went from utterly dejected to a state of elation.
It dawned on me that there had always been a person in that caboose, but nobody had ever come so close to jumping on board that they forced the person to come out and run them off. I knew that had I not been stopped, I would have accomplished my goal.
There was actually a little sense of relief. I had proven to myself that I could do it, but I wasn’t currently riding into the unknown, away from my parents, my home and all of my friends. There would be no punishment coming for me either.
All in all, it was a pretty good outcome. I wasn’t going to be a Valley Home Legend, but I had learned a very important lesson. Looking back today I can still see my outstretched hand and just how close I was. I can also see how many other metaphorical trains I have wanted to catch over the past 37 years since I tried to catch a real one.
Some of those metaphorical trains I have caught. Some, I have barely missed. Whether or not I got on board or walked home, I have accomplished a lot by setting my goals high and coming up with a great plan. And that has made all the difference.
More Places You Can Listen to Off-Farm Income And Matt Brechwald:
      
|
.png)
More
Religion & Spirituality
Education
Arts and Design
Health
Fashion & Beauty
Government & Organizations
Kids & family
Music
News & Politics
Science & Medicine
Society & Culture
Sports & Recreation
TV & Film
Technology
Philosophy
Storytelling
Horror and Paranomal
True Crime
Leisure
Travel
Fiction
Crypto
Marketing
History
Comedy
Arts
Games & Hobbies
Business
Motivation