TERRE HAUTE, Ind. – The last two days we have said goodbye and celebrated the illustrious and incredible life of Coach John McNichols, first with a visitation on Thursday evening at Memorial United Methodist Church, and then with a soul-wrenching celebration of life ceremony this morning at the Hulman Center.
 
The turnout was mind-boggling. An hours-long line wound through the halls of the church for the visitation on Thursday night, with current and former student-athletes, current and former Indiana State coaches, as well as coaches and other track luminaries from all around the world making the trek to Terre Haute to pay respects to a man who has changed lives across the globe. The mood was light, with The Beatles and The Beach Boys playing as hundreds of photos flipped by on a slideshow as mourners came to pay their last respects.
 
The emotional ceremony this morning featured speeches from his family and friends, including Air Force head coach and close friend Ralph Lindeman and longtime fellow ISU coaches Angie and Jeff Martin. Afterward there was a small reception, where a microphone was setup for others to share their own stories. From the time the speeches started there was never a lull in the number of people coming forward.
 
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I only worked with Coach McNichols for a little more than one season, so the impact of my thoughts and remembrances of him mean little in the grand scheme of the outpouring of tributes from the track world and Terre Haute community since the announcement of his untimely passing on Dec. 21. But, I wanted to share nonetheless to highlight the John McNichols that I knew:
 
Death makes you think about a lot of weird things that you never would have thought otherwise. When was the last time we talked? When was the last time we saw each other? What did we say?
 
The question that immediately sprang to my mind was: when was the last time Coach McNichols and I ate together?
 
Meals on the road are a mixed bag – especially with a track team. Finding an easy place to find somewhere to stop with two buses of about 100 people total is about as easy as nuclear physics. Is there enough variety? Is there room for the buses? Do we need to drop off and have the buses come back later to pick us up?
 
(If you know a track coach, give them a hug; most of them coordinate all this in addition to coaching.)
 
Meals are also a peculiar time for the new, awkward sports information director who doesn't know anyone yet. A lot of time is spent meekly sitting in the corner, wolfing down something to hurry back to the bus or hotel room.
 
This happened on my first trip with the Sycamore track team to Northern Iowa this past January, a meet ISU normally goes to so the team can get a feel for what the MVC Indoor Championships will be like.
 
Breakfast the first day comes. I grab my normal English muffin so I can hurry back off to my room, when I heard something from behind me that changed the rest of the year:
 
"So, whaddya think?"
 
Anybody that's been around Coach long enough has heard this. I'm not sure if it's a greeting up in his home state of Iowa, but it turned into a greeting for us and many others I noticed him interact with as well. That simple greeting invited me into his world that morning, and we sat and had small talk over breakfast on a brisk day in Cedar Falls.
 
And small talk there was over the next five months that I traveled with the team. History. Politics. Books. Sports. And of course, track. The history and knowledge of track contained within that man's brain was second to none. John McNichols (and, by extension, his coaching partner of nearly 30 years, John Gartland) possess probably one of the best tandem mindsets in the history of the sport collegiately.
 
Just one look around his office on my job interview told the story. 1984 Summer Olympics in Los Angeles. 1996 Summer Olympics in Atlanta. More MVC Coach of the Year awards than seemed physically possible. A literal wall of All-American awards. Photos from all over the world. If it happened during his time in the coaching world, he had a story and most likely a personal experience to go with it.
 
It's easy to get greedy with our time on this planet, and I certainly did with Coach. The sheer amount of knowledge he dropped on me on a daily basis was staggering, and it's a shame, because thinking back now it's all such a blur.
 
Meals with Coach became a regular occurrence after that first trip, and I was always grateful for the conversation. My favorite occurred in Raleigh this past spring following the first day of action at NC State for the Raleigh Relays (the same day that current Director of Athletics Sherard Clinkscales, then at NC State, met with John and the rest of his staff and team). It was a long, 14-hour bus ride out to the East Coast the day before, and after a long day of competition we were all in search of a good meal.
 
The first part of this story is the technical marvel of stopping two charter buses filled to the brim with hungry athletes and coaches and athletic trainers in the middle of the busiest street right off the campus of NC State. Traffic behind us was not happy, but we all hopped off as fast as we could; such is life on the road with a track team.
 
A sea of blue spilled onto the street with several different options for dinner. The main attraction, of course, was a Chipotle right on the street corner. John, as always, stood around to make sure that most of the group had started off in the direction of finding food before looking himself. He took one look at the line inside Chipotle, looked across the street at a small Mexican restaurant and looked at me and said, "This looks like a good fit."
 
I can't for the life of me tell you what we talked about in there. What I can tell you is that those were some of the best steak tacos I've ever had, and I won't ever be able to eat them again without thinking of Coach and all the time we spent over breakfast in hotel lobbies talking about the Second World War, or sitting at a restaurant listening about the history of Terre Haute or at a large gathering or banquet talking about the state of cross country and track & field worldwide.
 
So, when was the last time we ate together? Right after the NCAA Division I Cross Country Championships right here in Terre Haute on Nov. 19. After each championship meet there is a thank you meal served to all volunteers and workers inside the Wabash Valley Family Sports Center. After I had gotten done with my story and going through our social interactions I walked into the gym there to see Coach and the rest of his staff with a half dozen volunteers, warming up and chatting over chili.
 
How fitting that this was the final time, at the culmination of the 12th iteration of his crowning achievement: bringing the national championships to Terre Haute. Few of us stick to our guns long enough to see our dreams and aspirations become reality; Coach McNichols did so with stunning clarity, and the LaVern Gibson Championship Cross Country Course will forever stand as a testament to his vision for what the sport of cross country could be: fan friendly and accessible.
 
I wasn't special. There are hundreds, probably thousands more who can recount similar tales of the generosity of his time and company.
 
But, if I have to sum up Coach McNichols into a neat and tidy thesis statement for you, it's that he was the living embodiment of being the change he wanted to see in the world – a lesson that seems quite apt today, as well as for generations to come down the line.
 
As we say goodbye to 2016, there has been quite a bit made of the change and loss that occurred in our world this past year. We have lost iconic figures – including our own here with Coach McNichols – but complacency to sit in the past does us no favors. This is our world to shape, just as it was John McNichols' world to shape – and he certainly carved his mark into it.
 
To that, I can literally hear Coach roll up his sleeves and say "So, whaddya think?"