Bob Hodge’s Serial Running Novella
Aftermath
Summer 1980
“Life can only be understood backwards but must be lived forwards” Kierkegaard
It is a languid summer day but I am moving well and breathing easy on this early evening run in the middle of July.
It is my second run of the day and I am several weeks into my summer personal training camp based in a cabin on the North River a tidal river in Norwell, MA.
Through the fall and winter previous to this golden summer, I had a residence in Scituate Harbor several miles away, but spent most of the winter in Florida preparing for the 1980 Olympic Trials Marathon. Unfortunately, there was the boycott and my subsequent decision not to compete in the Trials with no Olympics on the line.
Our rental in Scituate ended in May and it was my good fortune to land in this cabin.
It was located up a small hill on a dirt road off Main Street and was adjacent to a larger house and a pen for the goats.
There was one goat, a hearty type who would leap out of the pen from time to time and come visit me in my little cabin.
One of his ears was chewed off apparently, so I called him Van Goat.
After the boycott was announced, I decided to run Boston and it did not go well for me, as I did not finish. It was a warm day and I cramped badly and stopped at the 21-mile point. I was disappointed and became disillusioned and I went to the pub every night for a week to drown my pathos.
It didn’t help, but my love of running and competing slowly returned.
After all, I had a contract with a shoe company that required minimal time at the office and I had good friends nearby that I had worked retail with for a few years. I also had a girlfriend who would come down on the bus from Boston to see me some weekends, so really the future was so bright I had to wear shades.
After my run I walked to the river and dove in from the dock. I felt my entire body relax, as I lightly kicked in the water and looked out at the lowering sun and clouds in the sky.
I enjoyed the feeling of floating in the water, mesmerized in the flow like the feeling when running and clicking on all cylinders.
The chill of the water and the salty tang were invigorating, rejuvenating.
The cabin had a small kitchen, a larger living room with a wood stove, a small bedroom and tiny bathroom with a shower. Perfect. I did not have many amenities, but I had all I needed. I had a portable black and white TV, a turntable and records and a radio receiver.
Compared to summers in Lowell growing up, this was like being at a resort.
I had run a road race every weekend in June and won them all. They were all fairly low-key affairs and easily incorporated into the running load I was trying to accomplish each week. We always had good times after these events.
After my evening run and swim, I cooked swordfish on a tiny hibachi grill and boiled fresh corn. I usually had strawberries or blueberries, all from the local farm stands.
It was an idyllic life, but I did feel some pressure after performing so badly on the big stage at Boston. I did not have reduction clauses in my contract, but if I didn’t perform or the company’s gear didn’t sell well enough, I would be looking for other ways to continue with athletics.
In the days before professionalism and prize money, I did have some income also from appearance fees from race directors to guarantee my participation.
My main goal for the summer was the Falmouth Road Race. Beyond that I would need to decide about a fall marathon or a cross-country season or perhaps both?
I had been thinking I would run the New York City Marathon in October, but recently I had received a letter of invitation from Nelson Farris via Geoff Hollister to run in the NIKE OTC Marathon in Eugene, Oregon.
My only marathon race experiences so far had been Boston, which I had now run three times. So far, New York had not recruited me to compete there, so I was leaning toward running in Eugene.
It’s nice to feel wanted.
The summer proceeded, and I grew tanned and lean, rib cages prominent and perhaps frightening to behold, running with no shirt through the center of town. For a distance runner, fitness is in proportion to emaciation.
Falmouth went well. I held second place behind the great Flying Kiwi Rod Dixon, heading into the Heights at six and a half miles. I was passed in the last few hundred yards by both Herb Lindsay and Ric Rojas.
I went to the Nike OTC the first week of September, hoping for a PR and a win. I ran a personal best, finishing second to another great New Zealander, Dick Quax. It was a much different experience from Boston, being run at 8:00 A.M. with very few spectators out on the course. The finish was in historic Hayward Field, which was cool. I remember thinking – as I ran the last five miles with Quax – I was doomed when he decided to go for it. But so far, I had pulled him back after each of his surges.
In the end, he inched ahead and beat me by twelve seconds.
I spoke with a few media types at the finish. For some reason I was not happy about my race, I was pissed I lost. It is amusing to read the little rant I wrote in my running diary back then, cussing out “Quaxy” as I called him and the Nike crew. (I represented upstart in the USA Reebok at the time)
I walked back to my hotel and grabbed twenty dollars and then I walked to the liquor store and bought a case of beer and a few snacks.
Back at the hotel I filled the bathtub with water and ice and the sink. I put the beer in and then I jumped in to the tub for a while as well.
I got up and toweled off, climbed into bed and started watching the US Open Tennis. McEnroe v. Borg, one of the greatest matches ever played.
It was a very memorable summer all around. I had discovered a lot about myself, at least in my athletic abilities and that was always my quest.
Conclusion – Carry On. Back On My Horse.
In the aftermath of the boycott the shine came off the Olympic Games, but though it didn’t shine as bright, it still had appeal. At the Nike OTC, I ran 2:10:59 which made me the 7th best performer ever among Americans. till around the top thirty by an American, last I checked. It would stand as the 19th fastest time in the world in 1980 and I would be ranked 10th in the country by Track & Field News.
If there had been an Olympic Trials. I would have been in the mix – I knew that much.
At the end of October 1980, I injured my adductor/groin muscle on my left side. Although I continued to compete long after this injury until 1988, I may have never fully recovered from it physically or psychologically.
Not having easy access to good sports medicine and physical therapy hurt my career. Some modern methods of treating injury almost certainly would have speeded me to a full recovery.
Occasionally, after a big marathon race, especially Boston, I imagine myself at my best competing against today’s best and I see myself faring well. Though my best time would not crack the top 100 in the world in any given year, it does get me a top ten finish in many, if not most major marathons.
In fact, at Boston my third best time of 2:12:30 would have placed me in the top ten every one of the last ten years except 2011. A couple of those years that time would have won. Though it is unlikely I would have run as fast in the hot conditions.
What does it mean?
In today’s running world would I have chosen to be a vagabond runner professionally?
I like to believe, yes.
Definitely yes and a badass runner at that.
My Supporting Cast and Players
C. Sharpless Jones friend, employer at the RUNNERY, Inc.
Steve Calder Sharpless business partner friend and training partner on occasion.
Brad Hurst, teammate, friend, best man at my wedding.
Frannie Hodge, God Bless Her, my wife and longtime partner.
Bill Rodgers, friend, teammate, four times Boston Marathon winner.
Vinny Fleming, friend, teammate, running partner.
Earle Fucillo, friend running partner supporter who helped me become an adult.
Gerry Maher, running enthusiast, friend and my dentist.
Bob Anderson, editor of Runners World Magazine.
Bob Wischnia, writer for Runners World.
Dick Quax, champion runner from New Zealand.
Friends from Lowell: Stevie Nicolaides aka “Fish man”, Ronnie Durant aka “Jocko.
Bill Squires, world famous marathon coach and enigmatic character eccentric in a good way, like most athletes.
The Greater Boston TC.
Paul Fireman, Reebok USA founder.
Gene Morris, friend and fellow co-worker at the RUNNERY and training partner.
Jean DuVoisin, Reebok Consultant.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1980_in_marathon_running