Reminiscing About Running

Today is unofficially Ankle Surgery Eve, and I have mixed feelings. While I am eager to get over the constant pain of a severed tendon and limping all over town in a boot, I also know the finality of my running life will come to a close tomorrow. I have been swimming every morning at 5 am, and can I just say, Why do people get up at 4:00 to drive to a place where no one talks in a YMCA pool, and the only excitement comes if someone from the night before left a diving toy on the pool bottom. The scenery never changes in lap swimming, and counting the little blue tiles that form the line on the pool bottom ranks up there with watching a car rust. But I digress . . .

In the weeks since I tore my posterior tibial tendon (PTT), I have been reminiscing a lot about how I began running, the places I have run, and the many memories associated with thousands of runs in my life. Beaches, mountains, low desert, high desert, flat lands, next to quiet streams, fast-rushing rivers, and in all kinds of neighborhoods. My mind stretched back to my childhood, where I grew up in a middle classed neighborhood in a two bedroom bungalow at the end of Virginia Street. It was next to a small forest that was eventually cleared out, but it made for a fun place to explore - and run.

We lived two miles from Potter Elementary School, and believe it or not, we did not have buses to get us to and from school, so we had to do what seems like a fantasy to many today. We walked. Rain, wind, snow, steaming hot or below zero, we hoofed it to and from school every day. Being fascinated and inquisitive, I wondered how many steps it would take to get home every day. Sometime in fourth grade I began to count my steps, walking at first, then running a little, then a lot, always trying to best my previous day's total. I used to come in and exclaim to my mother how I had come home in the fewest steps ever, and she always did the proper mom thing and showed her excitement about my major distance/step accomplishment, every time.

We had Zawol's Market, a quick five blocks away. I could run to Mike Blackburn's house in less than a minute. The Standard gas station had a cold water fountain, and I would stop in for a swig before heading down Davison Road to Averill,  dodging the occasional rabid neighborhood dog. Hitting the crosswalk on a green light was cause for celebration, because I did not have to break stride. Then I made it to the home stretch, and saw the house, picking up my speed for a dash to the kitchen, where my mother would be there, I am sure awaiting the report of my new two mile land speed record.

I ran through elementary school, loving whenever we had running days in PE. My favorite day was the running of the 600 yard dash. I was so disappointed it was only 600 yards. I do not remember the 600 much, but he did say I was the fastest one year. Mr. Hackett did let me run a mile once. I think he tired of my incessant begging to run a mile, so he sent me out to run a mile. To this day I do not know if it was one mile or four. I only know I ran that day for a long time from Averill to Dexter Avenues until every group in grades 3-6 finished the 600 yard dash.

When we moved to the country in seventh grade, we had something new - space. We had a huge yard, a huge forest, and another two mile distance to my new junior high school. We also had buses. What a treat to ride the bus to school. The only down side was that we were the first to get picked up and we drove forever to pick up everyone else, and we would get to school just before the first bell. I did not and still to this day do not like getting anywhere at the last minute. So every once in awhile I would go down the street, and if the weather was nice, I would run to school and always beat our bus - and most every other bus.

I don't know why I enjoyed running everywhere when everyone else walked. When our family of seven would go shopping or anywhere, I always got in trouble for running way ahead of the family. I reasoned that you could see so much more if you ran. Besides, walking took far too much time to get anywhere. Running was and still is a way to get from point A to point B quicker, leaving more time to enjoy something else. Even as high school principal, I have enjoyed the 300 yards between our two buildings, running most every day downhill to the K-8 building (all 220 steps, with a PR of 181). One little boy saw me one day and his mother told him I was the "running principal". No greater compliment, IMHO.

Even though I was fast in school, Tom Shepherd was faster, running a 4:20 mile. My fastest was in the 4;40-5:05 range all the time, but I was into sports like basketball, baseball, golf and girls, so running did take a mini vacation until college, where I went to a school, Saginaw Valley State, that had a wide open campus, and space to run. It was the same year, 1970, that Jim Ryun ran a 3:51 mile in HIGH SCHOOL, for goodness' sake! I was out running my feet off, trying to get my time down below 4:35, but to no avail.

I have many other memories to share another day, but today was just a chance for me to get these thoughts out on the keyboard. I think that if I had grown up in Kenya I probably would have fit right in to the culture, because I loved to run anywhere, everywhere, and if I had to run to get food for the family, I believe I could have done it, enjoying each mile along the way. One of the things I try to embed in the runners I do coach is not necessarily short-term, like a PR or a medal. I want them to take time to enjoy this thing, this gift God has given us. The ability to run, the freedom that comes with enjoying what you experience along the road, beach, trail, or street, is unmatched.

May every step you take be a memory that you savor.