In fans we trust
“I took off a couple dollars. The new guy gave you smaller tenders.” It was Saturday night. The flow: cool mom. Sweatpants and chic hoodie. I had takeout vibes. The order: kid’s cheeseburger and chicken tenders with a side of unsalted fries. Intrigued, I asked the manager, “how’d you know it was for me?”
“I saw your name on the order,” he said. I have become a regular. He knew me long enough to know what I liked — someone familiar.
The barista knows me too. Maybe it’s the way I entered and removed the fog from my thick blue glasses. The traverse of the cool brisk air to the warmth of indoors made every sip deserving. “Not many people get matcha lattes here,” she explained. Yet with the sincerest intention, each time she pauses. Maybe a bit bashful and then asks my name. I am never offended. I love the small gesture and curious consideration. I love to reclaim myself again and again.
The other barista is another warm soul. A beaming smile with strong cheekbones from ancestors I will never know. Her being is both familiar and welcoming. The skin of fine wafer brown melanin. Her long, deep brown hair laid tucked away. As we exchanged pleasantries, her hands meticulously design warm moments. Perhaps, warming cold souls. The exchange reminded me of the sweetest parts of the world — beings that choose to handle moments and people with care.
My matcha latte’s origin is made from love. A little less foam and an extra dab of honey. The sweetest touch by the most delighted hands. She always remembers me, and I too remember her.
Image powered by Unsplash | @dibella
Familiar requires a different sense of knowing.
Every friendship begins with something familiar. Something proximal to know. Something right within reach.
Friendships remind me of the power of fans. The kind of people we all deserve.
The Chicago Marathon, a populous for superfans
In October, 52,000 runners swarmed downtown for one of the largest races in the world. The fastest runners returned to beat records. Runners from around the world showed up in pride. They adorned themselves with their best running gear. Branded colors of home, motivational messages, snacks, and yes, plenty of snacks.
I traveled to see my Uncle Steve run his first major marathon. It was my first time seeing such a spectacle.
We trained at least once a week. Sometimes six sometimes eight or more miles. Our runs around lakes always came with pleasant conversations and life reminders. Many eagle sightings too. Their majestic and fierce presence added necessary thrill to the running experience. The eve before the race, I told him: “Be like the eagle tomorrow and soar!...you got this.” Race day meant witnessing something familiar, remarkable and, yet, rare.
Race day morning with the backdrop of downtown Chicago.
Fans, how many of us have them?
Being a fan is about belonging and connection. The marathon showed me devotion. It’s a sense of knowing that people will show up no matter what the call or cause. These people have a deep interest in watching someone finish something. Never mind the weather, distances, and huge waiting times. This kind of fandom is like VISA, everywhere you want to be. Suddenly, I became that fan.
Spotted, two barefoot runners. Another in Jesus garb. At the third and thirteenth mile, a runner edged out towards the crowd. From what I could tell, he found his wife or special lady, and they exchanged the sweetest kiss. His hands found her cheeks, pulled close for an embrace. It was an eye-to-eye smile of joy and then he would sprint back to the path. A real journey of love.
At mile thirteen, we chanted — Mill City Steve! He looked up, waved, and kept moving. If I know anything about running with my uncle, it is that he does not play about his pace. He has taught me wisdom about hills, puddles, and injury awareness. For what it is worth, I taught him how to clap and break up the herd when geese hoard the path.
A fan spotted and photo taken with permission. The sign: “Due to inflation you will be running 28.9 miles today”
Streets packed. Clanks of cowbells. Screams and cheers sent massive shockwaves of energy. Runners matched the energy of the crowd, and the crowd matched the energy of runners. If there was a Superbowl for runners, it was here. The reverberating chants made every runner matter.
A mutual exchange of encouragement — runners keep going and fans keep cheering. If equanimity showed its angles, it would microscope the runner and fan relationship. The music, the chants, the signs all mean something. There is a message to learn beyond the agony of running the distance.
Photo of Uncle Steve after completing the Chicago Marathon
Maybe what we learn is tragic optimism…supreme resilience…self-determination…take the shot…community is everything. Well, isn’t that life, too?
There is something about fans that watch you grow to be great. They watch you overcome the highs and lows. There from the start. They do not follow you because they love seeing you suffer. They do not follow you to hate. Fans attract because something deeply in their soul recognizes and relates.
The people who watch you run 26.2 miles are the same kind of people you want at your wedding, graduation, hospital bed, and funeral. These are the people, the fans who know they have a choice. Yet, they choose you and you, if you are lucky, choose them too.
I am summoning my fans for my first marathon. The people who like and love seeing me win. The ones ready for the coolest swag. Only the fullest of fans are welcome. I need energy matchers. Strike your position and see me win from the beginning to the end.
Marathon 2025. Coming soon.
The gifts in the message
The Tragic Optimist's Guide to Surviving Capitalistic Nihilism (YouTube)
Maybe your path is harder because your calling is higher (Medium)
Two Gems from Diary of a CEO Podcast on YouTube:
(If you can get past the titles, these videos are full of gems)
Interview with Trevor Noah: ADHD and Depression, Domestic violence, Hardship, and Becoming
My song on repeat right now…Darlin’ by Jean Dawson (YouTube)
Send this to someone you crave in the most innocent way (Medium)