Sparky’s Yard
From 2007-2010, I taught high school math and physics out in Buckeye, Arizona, a far western suburb of Phoenix. One morning the science department head at my high school forwarded us an e-mail about a summer masters degree program at Arizona State University. The program was specifically designed for teachers and could be completed over the course of three summers. This all sounded well and good to me so I started navigating my way through the application process and trying to figure out how I would pay for these classes on my meager first-year teacher salary.
As the summer of 2008 approached, I began thinking of how long and miserable the commute would be from where I lived in Goodyear to ASU’s main campus in Tempe. I really didn’t want to make that drive all summer long. Fortunately, for those of us entering the program, this saintly woman from ASU named Jane Jackson had arranged a block of cheap apartments for us to rent just for the summer months. I think I paid $800 for the eight weeks I lived in Tempe, and it was worth every penny. The apartments that first summer were right on University Avenue, about a mile from the physical science building where I would be spending my days.
Obviously one of my top concerns for the summer was where I was going to train, but it all worked out better than I could have ever hoped. These summers at ASU ended up being an incredible time for my training. ASU had a massive student gym complex with everything I needed to lift, run, and play racquetball, my primary fitness activities back then. The inside of the gym was well-kept and always had the air conditioning cranked, but it was this other section of the gym that I really fell in love with. I have no idea if it’s still there anymore, but there was this fenced-in outdoor section that they called, “Sparky’s Yard.” Sparky is the sun-devil mascot of ASU and yard is, I guess, the prison term for an outdoor recreation area. There was a translucent green tarp roof in the very unlikely event that it rained. The gym opened at 6:00 AM and class started at 8:00 AM, so I had plenty of time to get to the gym when they opened and get after it in the morning. Sparky’s Yard had a big heavy squat rack with plate storage and a pull-up bar, a deadlift platform, benches, dumbbells, a leg press, and a cable jungle gym tower station. I basically had Sparky’s Yard to myself every morning. It was heaven. Imagine getting to start your day surrounded by a pile of weights outside in the 95 F dry desert heat with the sun making its way up high in the sky.
I really wish I had some pictures of Sparky’s Yard, but I didn’t even have a smartphone in 2008. I had some flip phone that took really crappy pictures. In retrospect, I trained way too much back then, but I was 24 years old and had boundless energy. Some days I would start and end my morning lifting session with a 5k, so I would run a 10k and lift before going to class at 8:00 AM. Other days I would just lift in the morning and then go for a run during our class lunch break. Memories of the heat during these lunchtime runs are still with me. It was often 110+ F as I made laps around the red clay multipurpose field track that sat right outside the student gym. Yes, it’s a dry heat, but 110 is 110. I loved putting my headphones in, getting into that zone, and just feeling that incredible heat. One time I was running across the street and almost got hit by a car because I was listening to “Gold Digger” by Kanye West and I was just so in the moment I had quit paying attention to my surroundings.
I remember coming out of my apartment early one morning and thinking that it felt cool outside because it was only 90 F at 5:45 AM. Funny how your perspective changes. On that particular morning, I ran over to and up A Mountain by the football stadium. I still remember what a beautiful moment it was when I got to the top, looking down to the football stadium and out on the Salt River. That evening I went out for some beers with my roommate Al and his dad who was in town visiting from Chicago. I mentioned my morning run and his dad said, “That’s some Walter Payton shit.” While I’m certainly not Walter Payton, it was still a cool way of describing how I felt when I got to the top. I still feel that excitement, elation, and hunger for life when I’m at the end of a hard training session. The day may come when I’m too old and broken down to get into that zone. I will yearn for this hard training, for a time when my mind and soul could push my body to tackle a challenge and give all I had on that day. This life is going by way too fast, but I’m still in the fight. Still pushing hard. Onward and upward.
ASU’s Sun Devil Stadium with A Mountain in the background.