From the Editor – JASON KARP, PHD, MBA
A Nudge, a Suggestion, and a Comment
“You should call him,” my mother suggested, knowing how interested I was in the subject.
I was a high school junior in New Jersey and just watched a TV show about athletic performance that featured Israeli biomechanist Dr. Gideon Ariel, an Olympic shot put and discus thrower and owner of Ariel Dynamics, a biomechanics software company.
It was long before the Internet and smartphones, so I got my hands on a California Yellow Pages and flipped through to find the phone number of Ariel Dynamics.
Dr. Ariel answered the phone.
“Hi, Dr. Ariel,” I said, “My name is Jason. I saw you on the TV show about athletic performance.”
I shared my fascination with the subject and asked his opinion on where I should go to college to study sports biomechanics.
“Penn State,” he replied.
As a freshman at Penn State, I got a part-time job in the sports biomechanics laboratory, assisting graduate students and faculty with their research.
A few years later, during my senior year at Penn State, still working in the biomechanics lab, I took a road trip to Columbus, Ohio with the graduate students and professors from the lab to attend the American Society of Biomechanics Conference. At the conference banquet, I overheard a conversation in Hebrew. I turned around to look. It was Dr. Gideon Ariel.
“Dr. Ariel,” I said in English, my Hebrew nearly completely lost over the years since elementary school, “you may not remember me, but when I was a junior in high school, I called you after seeing you on TV to ask you where I should go to college. I took your advice and went to Penn State. I’m applying to graduate school and I’d love your advice again.”
“Either stay at Penn State or go to University of Calgary,” he replied.
I was a brash 22-year-old when I stepped into Dr. Walter Herzog’s office at the University of Calgary, the top-ranked school for kinesiology and sports science in North America. I was both impressed and intimidated. I could tell he meant business. He revealed in a later conversation that he did not feel the same way about me and, in so many words, told me his first impression of me was not good. It would take the better portion of two years to change my academic advisor’s opinion of me. (In addition to being one of the top biomechanists in the world, Walter is a great runner, running 1:51 for 800 meters in his 20s and 2:09 at age 50 to place second at the 2005 World Masters Games.)
In addition to being incredibly knowledgeable, Walter had the unique ability to develop his own ideas. I admired that.
I admired that so much that, one day, while we were discussing my master’s thesis on the esoteric subject of muscle fiber recruitment during eccentric contractions, I asked Walter where that ability came from.
“Years of research,” he replied immediately. (Walter’s lab was the first in the world to isolate and mechanically test properties of isolated sarcomeres, the smallest contractile units of skeletal muscle. His research has shed new light on how the proteins inside muscles work together to cause muscle contraction.)
I wanted to become like Walter.
Rather than just be knowledgeable, I wanted to develop my own ideas. So, I pursued a PhD. If I wanted to develop my own ideas, I figured I had to become an expert like Walter. Expertise is the foundation of all creative and innovative work.
Inspiration can come from many places and many people. And it’s often subtler than we expect.
It’s a nudge from a caring mother to make a phone call.
It’s a suggestion from a scientist on the phone and at a banquet.
It’s a comment from a mentor.
And it’s a lesson taught by a coach.
In this first 2026 issue of Track Coach, we offer a potpourri of lessons to share with and inspire your athletes. Happy new year!
