It's very hard in the beginning to understand that the whole idea is not to beat the other runners. Eventually you learn that the competition is against the little voice inside you that wants you to quit. - George A. Sheehan
I started running in February 1972. Basketball ankles so bad I couldn’t move laterally. That’s my story I still tell and some dogs just ain’t springy.
Last two weeks of April, following copious Boston Marathon coverage – some older mother won and I thought, if she can do that, maybe I can do that – I began to run more regularly. Five or six times a week, five miles at a time, usually forty minutes or so.
May 2nd, I set a personal record for five miles in 37:14.3. Indoors at the Kearney YMCA in Danbury, Connecticut. One-hundred-and-twenty-five-circuits-above-the-basketball-court-around-and-around. 125 laps.
May 6th, I began keeping a running journal. Already thought of the sport as a seductive passionate mistress. I was twenty-five years old.
Here’s the “Training Diary #1” entry for July 1.
Saturday 1 p.m. Ran six miles at about an 8-min. pace. Went to Bethel (site of next Tuesday’s race) to run the course. Found it okay but typical me ended up running last half first and first half second. It should be fun. Terrible (4/10th mile) hill at two-mile mark but worst part will be coming down a half mile and even steeper. So steep I don’t see how I can run down it without falling on my face. And if I try to slow up, it feels as if my knees are slamming into my hips. After that hill, the last three miles are relatively easy.
[A different young man might have noticed he wasn’t built for the sport at this point. Instead I made it my life.]
At the moment, I think I’ll just attack the course in its entirety to the best of my ability & hope for the best. I’ll finish it if I have to crawl on my elbows. Since it’s impossible to actually win the race, this looks like a good chance to see what I’m made of.
Here’s the “Training Diary #1” entry for July 4.
Independence Day. Bethel, CT, Six-Miler. Cool… pleasant. Race began at 9 a.m. About 70 runners, don’t really know. [note added later] 88 runners started (according to local paper.) Got a very bad start. My back was stiff from those hills, I could hardly tie my shoelaces. What I was doing when the gun sounded.
At about two miles (up the BIGG hill) I caught sight of the young girl (17) who looked to be moving fairly well. I set my mind to eventually catching her, at worse, maintaining the gap between us. I kept after her and finally passed her with 2/10ths of a mile to go. So, unlike Greenwich [my first race] I finished ahead of all distaff runners.
The moral of the story is I became so involved (evidently) with beating this girl, I ran faster than I ever have before. According to my official time of 38:29 for the 5.8 miles, I averaged 6:36 mins. per mile. This seems so fast I have my doubts, but if I can do it again [note added. I did. See 8/26.] I guess it’s correct – I was shooting for a seven-minute average. Perhaps I underestimated myself.
I finished 42nd & received a little circular gold medal with a runner on it, of course, for my efforts. That’s my fourth “trophy” in my life. And it’s love.
The race’s doctor drove along the course in a big green Chrysler Imperial with his straw hat & his yellow slacks seemingly disappointed not to discover every mile or so a runner having a cardiovascular seizure or perhaps a collapsed lung. Like the Angel of Death, he hovered about the crests of hills and actually appeared to have an orgasmic climax when he finally did manage to coax one limping straggler into his car. The doctor had much the same look as the witch when Hansel & Gretel crossed her doorstep. It was a big car.
The doctor seemed especially concerned with my appearance toward the end of the race. I’m sure that’s just my paranoia.
I made grotesque faces at him and continued on my journey.
According to Wikipedia, crop tops have been worn by men since the 1970s. The early Rocky films have Sylvester Stallone and Carl Weathers wearing crop tops while working out. So, there.
