I wasn’t an athlete in high school, and certainly not in college. When I graduated and started working at the newspaper in Augusta, I started running regularly. I didn’t run for conditioning, or to compete, or to associate with other runners. I just liked to run. I liked running up hills, I liked running in miserably hot weather, and I liked running in cold weather. I felt good when I ran and I felt good after I ran.
When I quit the newspaper in 1976 and moved to Lake Tahoe for about 18 months, I started running more seriously. The great thing there was that I could run on dirt trails in the woods. In early summer of 1977 I decided to run the Silver State Marathon, which took place around Labor Day near Carson City, Nevada. That was my first race. I trained all summer, gradually increasing my distance, if not my speed. I was happy to finish in under four hours, although about midway in the race I developed a blister on one heel that was about the size of a silver dollar. How appropriate.
When I started graduate school at Georgia Tech in 1980, I got even more serious about running. I had an eight-mile course that I ran every day after school. I wasn’t interested in racing. I enjoyed the time I spent on my solitary runs. I would see someone jogging along my running course and think that I wasn’t like them; I was not a jogger, I was a runner. I couldn’t imagine not running.
Eventually I decided to run a few races. I don’t remember how many I ran in my racing career, but it was less than 10.
These race numbers were in an old trunk I found while cleaning out my mother’s house.
I don’t know which races the unlabeled numbers came from. The Mountain Goat 8 Mile was run at Berry College. The course wound around a dirt road on Lavender Mountain, not too far from where we live now. I also don’t remember the times I ran in all those races, but I was fairly happy with them.
The last race of my career was a 15 km run, the Chieftains Road Race, held in 1984 at Berry College. The certificate in the upper right of the picture is from that race. The winner of the 15-km race was from Mexico City. He ran and won the 5-k race to warm up for the 15-k. His pace was about 5:50 per mile. My pace in that race was a little over 6:22 a mile, the best I ever did. I was fifth in my age group (30-34), and I actually beat the fastest woman runner by about a second.
Not long after that race my knee started hurting. It got bad enough that I had to stop running shortly after that. I swam for exercise for about a year, and then started running again. Slowly. Very slowly. And then not at all. I miss running. I even dream about running. Now I can hardly run across the street.
But once I was a runner.
Mark: You and I are similar in so many ways. I, too did not run in high school or college, but I got started in graduate school (a bit later than you). I have run in quite a few races, and while I was racing I kept a scrapbook with all my race numbers, my times, and photos (if Kali took photos of me). I even ran three marathons, including New York City in 1980 after having been very, very sick for most of the summer before. I, too, had to stop running when my right knee gave out (in 2003, 11 years ago now), but unlike you I was was not tempted to start again because (1) my knee blew up to the size of a softball when it finally gave out on me and (2) my orthopod cautioned me not to even think about it. I didn’t swim as a substitute (I’m a poor swimmer and don’t enjoy swimming), but I did (and do) bicycle (when I don’t fall off), and bicycling doesn’t bother my knee if I do it in moderation.
I often think that I’d love to run again, especially when I see other runners. But, one day a few years ago one of my employees was setting off on a run after work and I started lamenting my inability to join him. He turned to me and said, “You know, Scott, running’s not all fun! You just don’t remember the grueling, boring, tedious runs.” And, of course, he’s right. But I can’t completely shake the desire.
I really like reading your running stories (Scott’s too!) I’ve never been a runner, but I have always admired people who could push themselves to run long distances and marathons. When I was very young, I noticed that when I ran not even a long distance I would get a stitch-pain in my side. I never knew what caused it, but it definitely made me not want to run very far. I was on the track team, but that was the extent of my running fun. I do like a good bike ride though, and am looking forward to getting back on my bike when we move to the bike friendly streets of a small college town.
I was never an athlete in high school or as a young adult. In fact, I was the opposite, putting on far too much weight and dreading the climb up the stairs to go to bed each night. Then, somehow, I managed to lose a lot of weight. And I got a Border Collie who needs a lot of exercise. So i took him to the off leash park and walked the perimeter as he gamboled around. Soon I tried trotting around bits of the perimeter, one day going all the way around without dying. On the day I managed 10 laps (about 4 miles I estimate) I decided to take my act on the road. That was two years ago, and I’ve been running like an idiot ever since. (Ran my second half marathon last weekend.) Will my knee blow out? Perhaps. But if it takes twenty years, I don’t think that’s too bad since I only started running in my 50s.
I’m guessing you read the John Parker book from the title of your post.
Scott — it seems we have had parallel experiences. I only swam because biking on Atlanta streets didn’t seem safe, and a very nice and very large pool was available at school. When my knee started hurting I went to a doctor a fellow runner recommended. His advice was like the punchline to the old joke. Patient: “Doc, it hurts when I do this.” Doctor: “Don’t do that.”
Robin Andrea — I ran through many a stitch in my earlier running days. And shin splints. I for years every time I got a new pair of running shoes I got blisters. But eventually all that went away.
Pablo — Maybe your timing is better than mine. Maybe by the time your knees give up (if they ever do), you’ll be ready for some slower exercise anyway.