"How are you guys?" My boss, Sue sneaked up on us while we were sitting at a picnic table in the Ironwood Festival.
"You goh me wiff I oufull," I was chewing my fish fry.
"That keeps him quiet," Lois said.
"Watch it!" I said after swallowing.
We exchanged some banter which I barely heard over the cacophony of people and the rock band.
It was one of those moments when I feel joy and not worry. Sue's welcoming cheer actually started that. She went back to the table with her family.
It was also one of the few optimistic moments that wash over me and open the door to try something I never did before. (It wasn't dancing.) I had been thinking about running in a local race for a few years and my negative thought processes gave a plethora of reasons why I should not run in a race, but the main thought was 'I can't do it.'
My body is fairly fit for a soon-to-be 67 man with arthritis. I have run regularly the last four years. My routes vary from 2 miles to 7 miles, depending on circumstances.Lois kicks me out of the house when I'm grumpy. "Go for a run. Go on, now. Run out that grumpiness." It works every time. I come home in a much lighter mood.
As I sat and chewed my fish I ruminated about the Saturday run. I'm in great shape, according to my doctor. He encourages my to run and to buy new shoes three times yearly. I even have worked some speed intervals into my runs. My elapsed times have decreased this year and even after a hard run I'm not out-of-gas. I ruminated.
"Whatcha thinking about," Lois asked.
"You know, I betcha I could run that 5 mile race tomorrow."
"Sure you could. You'll have to sign up tomorrow morning. The race is at eight-thirty."
God bless Lois! "You, know, this time I'm gonna do it. Too bad you have to work."
I woke up with excitement and anticipation, visions of Paavo Nurmi, visions of a marathon winner collapsing dramatically at the finish line. Then I thought of the many people from out-of-town who run at marathons all summer. I wouldn't finish in the top ten- maybe the top 40.
The start of the race was at Norrie Park and there were at least a hundred racers. Some in the two-mile and others like me in the five-miler. We were assembled at the entrance to the park and stood with our hands over our hearts as the colors were presented and a man in uniform from the American Legion sang The Star Spangled Banner. I shifted nervously. Couldn't stand still.
All of a sudden this great throng started running. I was careful not to step on someone else. I wanted to accelerate but I was part of a traffic jam. Soon, the two-mile racers separated from us five-milers as we turned to cross the bridge and continue into Wisconsin. I knew there were thirty or so runners ahead and the pack began to thin as racers adopted unique paces.
I could see the guy in the lead way ahead. Must've been in his early 20s. I passed people and some passed me. I resisted the impulse to hit the gas. Any gas I burn early will not be in reserve in the last mile.
My calves burned as they always do in the first two miles, then they feel comfortable as I 'get my legs.' Seemed that it took longer to get my legs because of the steady fast pace. I always run hard uphill then take it easy on the downside. I wasn't out of breath, but I was hoping the burn would ease up soon as I listened to feet slapping the pavement.
An Iron County Sheriff officer encouraged us. I looked at my watch thinking we must be at least fifteen minutes into the race, but it was only ten. I was about a half-mile to the turn-around and there was a guy already running the opposite way. 'What did he eat for breakfast?' He wore goggles and these tights that stop just above the knee. His shoes were phosphorescent green. He even looked fast when I saw him before the race.
About a minute later a spectacularly athletic girl with with bronzed limbs followed the leader, then three more girls. 'How far is the turnaround?' I had forgotten about making a first place finish for my age group when an elderly gentleman passed the opposite way. I was in awe of these athletes! I wonder how they train.
At last the turnaround came and I looked at my watch. Nine minutes to nine. Not too bad. I focused on making my best time, competing with myself. I can make it but it's going to take a lot of push. I realized that I had run too fast earlier and I started to feel it in my legs but I kept an even pace. I passed a few runners who were fading and hoped I wouldn't drastically fade.
Then a friendly sight on the side of the road. A guy holding up a water cup. It was Randy Clemens from Woodland Church cheering me. I slowed and took the cup and poured it on my head. God bless Randy!
"The four-mile mark is just ahead!"
I just nodded then resumed my pace. I thought I could catch the guy about ten yards ahead and worked on that and as the gap slightly closed I was surpassed by a guy pushing a baby in a stroller! 'Are you kidding me! Show-off!' I tried to pass the stroller but he kept creeping away.
The four-mile mark! I could've knelt down and kissed it. There was a police car blocking traffic at the bridge as I re-entered Michigan. "You got 'er made now. Great job," the officer shouted.
As Norrie Park came into view spectators clapped for each of us as we passed, sweaty, legs tired, but we were all determined to finish. The gates of Norrie Park were the gates of heaven to me as I pushed past the parked cars and the people clapping. A race official pointed to the center of a phalanx of people. This was the finish line.
I made it! Euphoria washed over me as I floated to the pavilion and the Gatorade. I drank and walked to cool down. Then I went back to the phalanx to cheer the other runners whom had made it. I appreciated those other runners and their efforts.
I checked the board where the results were posted and found my time to be 48:44. My best time running my own 5-mile course was 55 minutes. Elation set in, tempered by the fact that I finished fourth in the 'male 60-69 age group.'
An arm seized my shoulder, Randy and his daughter. I don't remember our exchange but it sort of put a cherry on top of the whole event. The euphoria escalated. God bless Randy! He's such an encourager. I've seen olympian runners weep as they finished and a friend wrapped them in a congratulatory hug. Now I understand that.
I stayed for the awards and a woman from our church, Gena Abramson won the two-mile female age 40-44 first-place award. She reminds me of someone that excels at anything they do. I clapped and mentally gave her a hug. The youngest participant was a five-year old girl in the two-miler. The oldest was Margaret Bull, 85 years of age!
I'm glad I didn't listen to that nagging, negative voice that says 'you can't do it.'
