Bob Hodge’s Serial Running Novella
Just Watch Me
In early May of 1979, I was basking in the afterglow of my recent third-place finish in the Boston Marathon. Yet I didn’t consider myself a marathoner. I was a runner and I still had many other goals, whether it was track racing at all distances or cross country or road racing. After all, I had only run two marathons: one good and one bad. I was planning to run 10,000 meters on the track in the Tom Black Classic Track Meet in Knoxville, Tennessee, and hoped to qualify for the outdoor Track Nationals to be held in California. Then I received a call from Ron Wayne in California.
Ron, a Massachusetts native from Brockton, won the New England Cross Country crown in high school and the College New England crown while at the University of Massachusetts Amherst. Ron also finished fourth in the 1977 Boston Marathon. As I recall, Ron was doing some work with the Bay to Breakers Road Race in San Francisco and called to see if I had any interest in running there. It would be run the same weekend as the Tom Black meet, and so initially I thought, no.
Then he mentioned a $1,000 appearance fee. Up until this time I had never changed my plans or goals to run just for money, but a grand? It was a difficult decision, but I could not afford to turn it down. That was two and one-half months of pay or four months of rent! If I had gone to Tom Black, my shoe company sponsor New Balance or the GBTC would pay my airfare and hotel and I would pay any other related expenses. This was a problem with trying to compete on the track. There were too few opportunities and virtually no money except for those who were the cream of the crop.
So I went to this crazy event known as the Bay to Breakers. Ron Wayne hosted me at his home and carted me around to some different appearances I made on behalf of promoting the race. One sponsor was the makers of this newfangled watch called a Casio. I appeared at a department store while wearing a Casio, and I actually signed an autograph or two. Later I went for a run on the race course, with some media in tow snapping photos as we went. The next day there was a photograph in the San Francisco Chronicle of me on the Hayes Street hill stopping to stretch against a telephone pole. The caption made a joke of me against the pole—funny.
Ron was a great host. He would run the same ten-to-twelve-mile loop every morning from his apartment in Alameda with me tagging along. Then we would come back and eat toast. Epic amounts of toast. One morning a small earthquake tremor occurred while we were having our toast. It was my first earthquake, and I felt nauseous for a bit afterward.
On race day I headed to the start and warmed up. It was chaotic and there were many “characters” dressed in costumes and some people running naked. I had no idea who the top competitors would be, I just hoped they’d be wearing clothes.
After the gun sent us off, people in front of the start were cutting into the race from side streets in droves. I was pushing my way through this mob for much of the first mile. When I finally broke free of this pack, I spotted a centipede with the Reebok Aggies in it! There were some good runners in that thing, and they were still ahead of me. As I ran by them, to my surprise they cheered me on by name: “Go get ’em Hodgie!”
I asked, “Is there anyone else up ahead?” They replied, but I could not really hear them, and so I kept my foot on the gas. I passed someone on the Hayes Street hill, possibly John Moreno, and then I found my comfort zone and cruised home for the win.
It is always nice to win, but I was not enamored with this race. I thought, “Geezus, what a carnival; I am part of a circus act here.” My first-place award was a Casio watch, and so now I had two. I figured I could ditch the old Timex I had for many years. Len Wallach, the race director whose invitation brought me to San Francisco, wrote the history of the race from 1906 to 1978 (called The Human Race), and in a copy he inscribed a nice note to me, marking the occasion of my victory.
I heard later through Ron that Len was not entirely happy with me as I wasn’t “dynamic” enough and never sent him a thank-you note. Oh well, boo hoo. I did return the next year to less fanfare, which was fine with me. Len invited Craig Virgin, who won the race. I finished third.
On returning to Boston, I saw some friends, there to pick me up at the airport, holding signs that said, “Welcome Home Bay to Breakers Champion.” Very embarrassing and highly appreciated. Next stop was the Eliot Lounge, where “the guru” Tommy Leonard so admired the Casio on my wrist I gave it to him, telling him about the second one I had in my bag.
I was rewarded with a “Holy cow, Bobby, really? Thank you!” The next day back at home in Hanover, I unpacked my bag – no Casio, not even a Timex. I had checked my bag and been ripped off!
I went out and bought another cheap Timex. Good enough.