Moving the Chains: Road Runners Anonymous

I only started running to lose the 30 (OK, 42) pounds I’d gained during my first year of being a newlywed.  

Only after I lost the weight, I didn’t stop.  I only kept running because my master’s thesis advisor/running mentor said I had potential.

I ran a few races of five or six miles and considering six months earlier I nearly coughed up a lung running even a single mile I did OK.

I soon decided I wanted to run a marathon.  It was because I saw Frank Shorter win one in the Olympics, and he did it right after eating more pancakes than I’d ever seen in one place.  

To prepare for it, I planned on doing a 13-mile training run.  My mentor said I wasn’t ready, and even went so far as to bet me a pitcher of beer I couldn’t do it.

Which is probably why I did.

He paid off his bet on November 28, 1978.  And the day after that would be the last day I wouldn’t run for the next 45 years.     

Three months after running 13 miles for the first time, I ran twice that far and completed my first marathon.  Dispelling the words of Roy Benson – the University of Florida running coach at the time – who advised against running marathons, I went on to run over 200 more.     

Running soon became like a second nature to me.  Like brushing my teeth.  My wife thought my running turned into an obsession. Although she may have used another word: addiction.

The truth is, she was right either way.  One thing I learned in those 45 years is that I couldn’t get on with my day if I didn’t get a run in first.  My ‘fix,’ I guess.

It explains why I was in bed no later than 10 p.m. for most of my adult life: to wake up by 2:30 in the morning to run before I went to work.  It became habit – like brushing my teeth, remember? 

But it had the added bonus of me knowing that whatever happened at work that day, the hardest thing I would have to do – which was running 10 or 11 miles in the dark while most everyone else was asleep – was already behind me.

***

In my prime, I was putting in an average of 90 miles a week for the better part of 20 years.  But that’s not the worst (best?) of it.    

Every five years, starting with my 35^th birthday, I ran my age in miles.  

On my 50^th birthday, I ran 50 miles on the track, drove to Tallahassee to run a 50K (31 miles) the next day, ran a marathon the day after that, then drove home and ran 20 miles the morning after that.  I figured why not: you only turn 50 once.  

For my 60^th birthday, I ran a 2.5-mile loop 24 times, each lap moving the two dozen rocks on the bumper of my car one at a time from one side to the other so I wouldn’t lose track. 

Only 60 miles wasn’t enough.  So before turning 61 I decided to put on my own ‘race’ and run for 60 hours.  It began at 7 a.m. on a Friday morning and finished at 7 p.m. Sunday evening.  

Sounds crazy, right?  Perhaps, but not to the three dozen other runners who joined me.  We even did it again the two years after that.  

When I turned 65, I didn’t run 65 miles.  Not even 65 kilometers.  In fact, I only ran for 65 minutes.  Either the magic was wearing off or I was getting older.  Your choice.  

Suddenly, after running enough miles to circle the globe almost seven times, the gas tank was empty.  My shock absorbers – the ones in my lower back that go by the names L4 and L5 – were screaming bloody murder.  Not that I blamed them.    

Don’t get me wrong: I was still running every day, only it was taking nearly twice as long to cover any given distance.  Also, I had to take walk breaks every now and then.   

Then I surprised myself and did something I hadn’t done since I was a newlywed: I didn’t run.  I thought it would be hard to quit, but it was actually quite a relief.   

Today I walk almost every day, although I take a day off every once in a while.  I don’t want it to become another obsession.  Or addiction, maybe.  

December 2, 2023, I finally closed the book.  After running 166,438 miles in 16,438 days, that part of my life was behind me.

***

I often think about forming a club.  I’d call it Road Runners Anonymous.  The logo would be a silhouette of me running, like the NBA did with Jerry West.

I sent my idea to the Road Runners Club of America.  

So far there’s been no response.  They must still be thinking about it.