`The young runner. Circa 1972
We all have memories, and they’re memorable, just because they’re special, just because they are ours, yours and mine. Remembrances about running often sparkle brightly, perhaps because the act itself is so energizing, so invigorating. Running makes us different – better, I think, and the thoughts one conjures about this activity must reflect the joy, the enlightenment that results. We thank running for what we become, and we remember.
I joined the YMCA to play basketball. One noonhour, I paused to watch a short, stocky man in his forties circle the gymnasium floor. Without a conscious decision, I began to follow him. Around and around we went, faster and faster it seemed. He was toying with me, I think; he’d look to his side at each corner, and carefully maintain the distance between us.
Forty minutes, five miles and some one hundred and twenty laps later, we stopped. I don’t know if I quit, or if he just had to go back to work. His name was Joe.
I do know I could hardly walk the next day, and I wanted to do it again. But maybe not indoors.
I’ve been a runner ever since.
When I think about running, which is often, certain words inevitably appear. Clear… clean… pure… fresh… honest… free….
I remember the crunch of the snow underfoot that Christmas morning when I was the first one up. Twenty-three degrees, and not a human mark on the blanket of white which covered the road’s surface. A lean coyote raced across my path looking behind as if someone was chasing him. I ran on, as did he.
I think about the cold showers after a ten-miler in the noonday heat of Connecticut. Joe, Wayne, and Walt, all late getting back to work, all joyous about it. We’d talk about who was tough that day, and who lagged behind. Some days, we’d even let Joe go on ahead, even though he was the oldest and slowest.
Poor Joe, he was so competitive, he eventually had to quit racing. Couldn’t stand all that losing, took it personally.
Does anybody ever forget their first race? I certainly won’t. Took the day off running the day before because I wanted to be fresh. After all, I had started running fifty-three days earlier.
Monday, May 29. Joined the AAU this date. We were forced to. #6019. Eighth Annual Greenwich Memorial Day Five-Miler. 9:30 a.m. and hot. The course can be described as mildly hilly, yet I wasn’t worried, because I had never run up a hill before. How much tougher could it be? Most amazing was the idea of Amby Burfoot and John Vitale running ten miles BEFORE the race, just to warm up.
I looked pretty sharp in my clean white t-shirt, with the arms cut away to simulate a singlet. I was ready. Peed probably nineteen times, and if the damn race hadn’t finally started, I’d probably dehydrated myself. After a word from the mayor, some two hundred of us raced downhill, around cars, over cars, and into cars.
Nervous but felt okay when we finally got going. I was racing!
Not all that fast perhaps, judging by the crowd ahead of me. But there were people behind me, too.
Way to go, Joe.
At the starting line with Joe