Nugget #30

The following is a story I wrote for the Checkers newsletter in July of 2004, and then was later expanded and appeared under the same heading in the Jan/feb, 2008 edition of Marathon & beyond.

Straight Eye for the Running Guy

By Bill Donnelly

            As I may have mentioned before, I started training for my first road race in April of 1973, and I ran that race at the end of September of that year.  That’s about six months training for my first race, which should be plenty, unless that first race is a marathon, which mine happened to be.  I was inspired to run this distance after watching Frank Shorter win the Olympic Gold in Munich the year before.  I waited till April to train since who would be crazy enough to train in the winter.  As you can already see, I was not very knowledgeable about long distance running.

            I had run cross country and track in high school, and just a bit in college, but I had never raced anything over three miles.  But I did know running, and those high school days taught me how to prepare for a race (if it’s three miles or less.)  I knew nothing about training for a marathon, or running it for that matter.  I would quickly learn some valuable but painful lessons.

                        I remember my first pair of running shoes for my training.  I went into a sporting goods store and grabbed a pair of promising looking shoes.  I hadn’t run a step for about four years, and back when last I ran all shoes had leather uppers, and were always Adidas or Pumas.  I do not remember which brand I bought, but I do remember they were Joe Namath Specials, so they came in that lovely light green and white of the New York Jets.  Yuck.

            Now the thing about leather uppers was that they were great at giving your feet blisters until the shoes were broken in.  That usually finally happened about two days before the darn shoes wore out and you had to get a new pair of feet-eating shoes.  Wouldn’t you know it, that is what happened to me, so after going through about 17 roles of medical tape, and the shoes, I scraped together a few dollars in order to go shoe hunting.

            This time I took my time to look around, and low and behold, I found a new type of shoe on the market, with the brand names of Nike and Tiger.  Wow, were they something!  Nothing like the shoes of today, for they had little support, and all were a deep blue with white swooshes or stripes.  But they had nylon uppers!  I picked out the Tiger Bostons (Tiger is now Asics) which cost all of $17, and after running for a week blister free, I was sold on them.  Tiger Bostons would carry me through many a marathon, including my first race, which was in New York, so my shoes were no problem there, but everything else I did and wore became a real learning experience.

            I picked the New York City Marathon to run because my sister Maureen lives in Manhattan, so I had a place to stay.  I trained hard, always running Delaware Park by myself, because I knew none of the other runners, nor did I often see many runners in those early days.  I always ran hard, timing myself against the kitchen clock at home, not a real accurate method, but we didn’t wear timing devices in those days.  Other then for stop watches you could carry in your hand, they didn’t exist.  I built up to running ten or twelve miles a day, and I do remember my longest run was sixteen miles, which I did only once.  Oh Boy!  They say ignorance is bliss, and I guess that’s true if by bliss we mean: “I sure as hell did not know what I was getting myself into and if I had I never would have done it ever, never in a million years because who would put themselves through such torture just because some dude won the gold in Munich the year before why did I even watch those darned Olympics I’ll never do this again, ouch, Ouch, OUCH!”

            So the morning of the race arrived (after a pre-race dinner the night before of STEAK because that was what we used to think we should eat the night before a race) and I had my can of Nutriment for breakfast, a dietary supplement that my high school coach had us drink as our lunch before any cross country meet.  Needless to say, it wouldn’t provide a lot of what one needed for a marathon.  I also stayed away from any other fluids, such as water or vodka gimlets, because we had been taught liquids might cause a runner to get a stitch, or better yet, make him completely cramp up in terrible agony.  Luckily, as I ran the race, I saw other runners taking water at the two water stops provided in Central Park, and as I was getting thirsty, I thought they might be on to something.

            But I get ahead of myself.  First, what to wear for my first race.  I had never been told not to wear anything brand new for a marathon, but that was ok.  I was dirt poor, so it didn’t cross my mind to buy anything new as I couldn’t afford it.  So the first thing I put on was a piece of equipment that I had worn while running since I first tried to put one foot in front of the other in rapid succession.  I’m not saying this was the same one I wore from years ago, but it was well worn I’m sure.  This is the piece of sports apparel that all boys were taught to wear while engaging in any athletic endeavor, so as to keep their manhood safe and sound.

            Now, I want to keep this article serious, as always, while not offending any delicate souls out there.  Therefore, I will use code words for the piece of sports equipment I’m talking about.  So for this article only, if I write the word dribble, I mean jock, and if I write kabibble, I mean strap.  Is that clear?  So anyway, the first thing I put on was my dribble kabibble.  Oh yeah, if I write wibble, I mean cup, and if I write jibble, it means size.  So anyway – wait- if I write zibble, it means big.  So I put on my dribble kabibble whose wibble jibble was of course quite zibble. 

I’m here to tell you that a dribble kabibble, while perhaps fine for most sports, was never meant for long distance running.  The material it is made of is some sort of indestructible elastic stuff that, and I have this on good authority, was originally created as a covering for the heat shield for the Project Mercury Space Capsules, sort of an extra protection for our astronauts.  Unfortunately, the material proved too abrasive and was destroying the heat shields, so the makers of this evil stuff had too find a new use for it.  You guessed it, dribble kabibbles.  And, just for good measure, they added ribs, which I’ll code name nibbles, to the wibble. 

            So now I’m wearing a dribble kabibble whose nibbles on the wibble will rub my inner thighs raw, especially because my wibble jibble is so zibble, there are more nibbles on my dribble kabibble than there are nibbles on the wibble of the average guy’s dribble kabibble.  Needless to say, but I’ll say it anyway, this marathon was the last time I wore a dribble kabibble, since my thighs were rubbed raw practically down to my knees, thanks to my zibble wibble jibble.  There, I hope I was able to handle this delicate topic without offending anyone, yet still being able to keep to the serious nature of the article, as I always try to do.

            Next to go on were my shorts.  Let me tell you, these were not the amazing light shorts of today, no; they were regular cotton gym shorts.  You know, those five pound shorts we used to have to wear in gym class, the ones that slid down to your ankles so easily as the football players liked to “pants” the cross country fellows in front of the girls.  And there I would be, in nothing but my dribble kabibble.  How humiliating!

            I could have worn the new nylon shorts of the day, but I couldn’t afford them, and they were nothing like the nylon shorts of today.  They were very stiff, so much so, in fact, that when you took them off, they would stand quietly in whatever corner you threw them in.  When you ran in them, they made an annoying whistling sound, similar to the sound corduroy pants made when walking, only at a higher, more constant pitch.  And they weren’t very kind to your skin, only aggravating the rawness created by the nibbles on the wibble of my dribble kabibble.

            Of course, the problem with cotton shorts is that they wear out quite quickly in the area where the wibble is, due to all the rubbing that goes on there.  That, mixed with the sweat, and that part of cotton shorts usually lasted about two days. To save money, I learned to patch my own shorts, and I learned that the material that would last the longest without having to be repatched, was denim.  I had some old blue jeans that were worn out, so I cut out pieces to use as patches.  I wanted something that would last since I hated sewing so much.  By the time of the marathon, that heavy, abrasive denim patch was about the size of Rhode Island. 

            Next I put on my blue cotton tank top, which I always wore tucked in because it was so long it reached down below the bottom of my shorts if left hanging out.  It was obviously not made for running, rather, for a very tall tank operator working for Field Marshal Rommel in North Africa during World War II, thus the name tank top.  It also had the ability to hold about twenty pounds worth of sweat, which would stretch it out so that, if left untucked, and I’m not making this up, it would reach down to my knees.

            Next on went my pair of old, worn socks, hopefully washed, and my trusty Tiger Bostons.  Then it was on to the West Side YMCA, located at

63^rd St.

and Central Park West.  There we picked up our numbers, and I do mean numbers.  Just recently I discovered my mom, who used the race as an excuse to visit my sister, actually filmed bits of the race with our home-movie camera.  What a find!  I discovered from watching it a detail I had totally forgotten.  All runners had to wear their race numbers on the front AND back of their shirts.  I think that was the only race I ever ran that had that requirement, other than in the next year’s NYC Marathon, and it wouldn’t have been so bad, except for the numbers we were given.

            You see, and I still have one of my numbers to prove this, they were on big square pieces of thick, indestructible plastic, probably a close cousin to the material used to make dribble kabibbles.  We all know how plastic close to your skin can make you sweat, while at the same time irritating your skin.  Well, we had this problem on the front and the back of our shirts.  By the way, the numbers were painted on using some sort of house paint, at least that’s my guess as to what they used.

            But now I was ready for my first marathon, and I made my way to the starting line near the Tavern on the Green.  Little did I know how poorly I was prepared for what was to follow, both training-wise and with the outfit I had on.  I managed a 3:01 race that day, which was good enough to qualify me for Boston, and that was my goal.  But you can bet your dribble kabibble that I never made those mistakes again.  No, new mistakes awaited me in the future, and I guess those mistakes can make running such an adventure.  At least they provide a few laughs all these years later, even if I wasn’t laughing at the time.                            

Nugget #29

As today is the running of the 2011 Boaston Marathon, I thought I would reprint the following, which I put into the Checkers Chatter in May of 2005.  I submitted it right before I ran the 2005 Boston, which was my 8th and last one.  In this one, I am introducing an article I wrote back in 1978 about running the 1978 Boston, and my comments in the intro about Barry Bonds and Mark McGwire were of course sarcastic, as even back then we suspected dopping.  Ah, the modern sports hero.

Boston Revisited

By Bill Donnelly

            As I write this introduction, it is exactly one week until I will be running in the 2005 Boston Marathon, which will be my eighth time doing it.  I recently rediscovered an article I wrote that appeared in the May 3, 1978 edition of The Buffalo Rocket, that fine North Buffalo paper that is probably perused by ones of readers.  It is my take on the running of the Boston Marathon just a few days before, and I wrote it as soon as I returned, so the memories were fresh.  

            I am going to share this with you even though it does not contain much of the humor I usually try to write with.  I think it gives a pretty good look at what it was like to run this race back in the Day.  More importantly, it shows how much things have stayed the same, at least as far as why so many want to put themselves through this tough experience.

            Among the changes, we used to finish at the Prudential Center, there are way more runners now, but better crowd control so runners never have to run single file.  Also, now we have to endure hours before the race in the Athletes Village, and many more bathrooms are provided in the way of port-a-potties, but still every tree and bush in Hopkinton becomes a potential bathroom.  I also mention passing some wheelchair participants.  Remember, this was when they first had wheelchair racers, and the picture from the April 18, 1978 Boston Harold American shows the winner of the wheelchair participants crossing the finish line.  A guy named George Murray won that year in a record time of 2:26, and he is in a regular old fashioned wheelchair like you have to use when they wheel you out of the hospital after having an ingrown fingernail fixed.  No souped up racers like they now use that gets them to the finish line over an hour faster than in those days.

            A couple disclaimers are in order also.  In my article I make a point by using O.J. Simpson as an example of a star athlete, and I did so because he was a big hero in Buffalo at the time.  Of course, times have changed, and events happened that might make him less the hero if I were writing this today.  If I were putting pen to paper now, I would undoubtedly pick a sports hero who has an untarnished record, perhaps a Barry Bonds or Mark McGwire.

            Also in my article, I mentioned I finished in 316^th place with a 2:35:45.  This is how I was listed in the Boston papers the next day.  Months later when I got my results book, I had been moved back to 320^th with a time of 2:36 even.  I do not know how I lost places or time, but they didn’t have the technology of today.  We finished going through regular finish chutes like you see in small races, and of course there were no computer chips.  

            The main thing about the article that has not changed in Boston is the thrill of the crowds cheering us on.  That brought us back again and again, and now it lures even more runners.  So read on, and if you have ever done Boston, see how your experience compares, and if you haven’t run Boston, dream on.  Maybe one April day you will, and I guarantee you, it will be the thrill of a lifetime.

            Boston Crowds turn grueling marathon into exciting event for runners

By Bill Donnelly

                            

I sat, with back leaning against the wall, and my aching legs stretched out before me.  I was in the glass enclosed lobby that separates the Prudential Center from the Sheraton Hotel in downtown Boston, Mass.  My whole body was sore and tired, but my legs were in especially bad shape.  My throat was dry and I was shaking from exhaustion.  People who passed by stared and one man even took my picture.  I had just finished running the Boston Marathon and I felt great!

            I watched as many of the other 4,000 men and women who had run in the marathon walked, limped and staggered past.  I was in a good spot to see the runners from Buffalo, because we had all agreed to meet at a certain bar in the hotel in order to quaff a few beers after the race.  I was eager to see how others had done in the race.

            Finally, some Buffalo runners appeared.  Fred Gordon was delighted by his best time ever of 2:25:29, but seemed just as pleased by the effort of his fellow teammate, Ralph Zimmerman.  Ralph had accomplished what many runners dream of but very few do.  He broke 2 hours and 20 minutes (2:18:55 to be exact) and so now is designated as a world-class runner.

            This simply means that Ralph no longer needs a car, because he can get around faster by running.

            Ralph’s place of 28^th out of 4,212 runners was the best of any Buffalonian.  He had set a US record for his age group, which is 35 to 39 years old.  Pat Janiga actually danced a jig that made my legs hurt.  Bob and Jim Herzog limped in together and Jim simply collapsed next to me.  Tom Donnelly staggered in as did Dave Bogdan, Mike Miesczak, and Paul Schwandt.  All my friends had one thing in common.  They were all very pleased with their races.

            There is an excitement and thrill in running the Boston Marathon that can be equaled by no other sporting event.  Why else would so many people come from all over the world to put themselves through such agony?  Just to go to Boston, one must qualify by running another grueling marathon, and many of us have run Boston more than once.  What is it that makes it so exciting?

            I believe for all runners, much of the lure of Boston is the people there.  From the minute we arrive there, we are treated as stars, not just a group of crazy runners.  The media plays up the event bigger than any professional sporting event going on there, including the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

            The race is run on the third Monday in April, which is Patriots Day in Boston.  The Red Sox and the Bruins are playing, but the event of the day is the marathon.  Over one million people turn out and line the whole 26 miles.  OJ Simpson may have had the thrill of hearing 80,000 fans cheer him after scoring a touchdown, but in Boston I literally had one million people cheering me on.

            From the very start when we arrive at Hopkinton, where the race begins, electricity fills the air.  A town of 6,500 residents, Hopkinton does not have enough bathrooms to service over 4,000 very nervous individuals who anticipate the agony they are about to endure.  Thus, every available bush or tree in town becomes a potential bathroom.

            Balloons, doughnuts and t-shirts are being sold everywhere.  A hot-air balloon rises near the starting line, and I count five helicopters directly over the start at one time.

            We line up, and I am fortunate to be near the front.  Over 4,000 runners on a two lane road form a line several blocks long, and once the gun goes off, the last runner will not cross the starting line until five minutes later.

            The announcer shouts “Ten minutes till we start.  Everyone please line up.  Joe Stump’s mother is looking for him to get his sweats.  Will number 2507 please come to the official start because you’ve lost your number.”  On it goes.  We make small talk, but I wonder what the heck I am doing there.  I’ve run 13 marathons and I know only too well what pain I will be in.  Why should I be so happy and excited about being here?

            The gun finally goes off and we slowly surge forward.  A couple runners fall in the start and one can only hope that they get up before being trampled.  It’s downhill at first, and we are flying, feeling loose and good.  There are people lining the whole course, but in the first towns they are thickest, sometimes 10 people deep.

            I have long contended that the Boston Marathon is the greatest of all spectator sports because the spectators actually take part.  Many people come with water or ice to hand to the runners.  Thousands spend the night before slicing oranges to hand out.  Some have hoses to spray us, and some simply hold out their hands hoping a runner will slap it.  The rest will cheer loudly and help carry us through the race.  Is it because we are amateurs that the spectators become so enthused and involved?

            Over the next 14 miles, whenever I feel let down in my strength, I wave my arms “Rocky style.”  The crowds love this and cheer all the more.  By the half-way point my legs are already very tight and hurt, probably from going too fast on this cool day.

            But at 13 miles we hit Wellesley, an all girls’ school with the enthusiasm and spirit of a Buffalo stampede.  These women get me moving.

            Then came the Newton Hills, which includes the famous Heart-break Hill.  These hills would be impossible but for the fact that the spectators are thickest and most encouraging here.  The crowds become so thick that we have to run single file through them.

            At the top, a police officer with a bullhorn congratulates us for climbing Heartbreak Hill, and informs us that we have only a bit over four miles to go, all downhill.  The crowds grow larger, and police and national guardsmen have to hold back the spectators to give us room.  I pass a few of the wheelchair racers, who started before us, and they give me added inspiration.  I could hardly make it up those hills using my legs, and 17 are doing it using their arms.

            The last four miles through Boston are long and hard.  I want to quit, but the crowd urges me on.  Two miles from the finish I pass a runner bent over losing his breakfast.  I see the Prudential Center but it looks miles away while the crowd tells me I have only a mile to go.  A runner from Boston University passes me and is getting very loud cheers; I wave my arms in appreciation as if the cheers are for me.  The crowd loves it and cheers me all the more.

            I turn onto

Hereford Street

, three blocks to go, but my heart sinks simply because there is a slight incline to climb.  I get over it, turn towards the finish, one last block, and all downhill.  I can only struggle in, there is no sprint left in my aching legs.  Each step feels like someone is hitting the bottom of my foot with a sledgehammer, and the pain shoots through my legs.

            I finish 316^th in a time of 2 hours and 35 minutes and 45 seconds.  Later I will be pleased with that, but in the finish chute I don’t give a damn.  I was so tired, and so glad it was over.  I slowly staggered through the huge crowd, getting congratulations and a cold beer from someone.  I meet my girlfriend, Eleanor, and am glad to see her. 

            It is over.  We partied that night.  I won’t be able to walk without pain for a week, and going down stairs will be near impossible.  But I am happy and have had one of the most memorable, thrilling experiences of my life.  Next year I will be back in Boston to live it again.            

   

Nugget #28

The following is a sample of one of my earliest writings about running here in Buffalo Back in the Day.  The intro that follows explains it all.

The Seeds of the First Running Boom

by Bill Donnelly

            The year 1969 was a year chock full of momentous events in our nation’s history.   Richard Nixon was sworn in as President, and the Viet Nam War was continuing on its nightmarish course.  In the world of sports, the Joe Namath Jets and the Miracle Mets both won championships.  We put a man on the moon, and Ted Kennedy put his car in the drink at Chappaquiddick.  While Liberals went to see “Alice’s Restaurant”, “Easy Rider”, “Midnight Cowboy”, and “Bambi meets Godzilla”, Tricky Dick’s newly named Silent Majority watched “True Grit” starring John Wayne.  The Chicago Seven were found not guilty, and Charles Manson and his cult went on a killing spree.  Woodstock showed the world that Flower Power could work, but then Altamont showed the world that it didn’t work. 

            Lost in all this was a little noted event that took place in Buffalo, New York, and was perhaps the most momentous event of the whole year.  I am of course talking about the founding of one of the early running clubs in Buffalo, the Belle Watlings.  Yes, 1969 was the year “The Founder”, Richard Sullivan, his brother Ted, and one Norm Wagner, were sitting at the bar at The Place, which is still located across from the Food Co-op on

Lexington Ave.

, and they decided to run a race, since they had recently started running to get in shape.  Even after sobering up, they still decided to go through with it.  And so they went to Delaware Park and, starting at the fire hydrant next to the expressway, they had a race that went twice around the meadow.  Dick Sullivan won, and back they went to the Place for the Sports Drink of the day, Boilermakers (not named after the race in Utica – that wasn’t around yet).

            While discussing the idea of starting an actual running club, they decided they needed a name for it.  Sitting nearby was one Charlie Lesselles, a non-runner, who suggested the name Belle Watling.  Seeing the quizzical looks on Sully and his pal’s faces, he explained that Belle was the red haired madam with the heart of gold who was Rhett Butler’s confidant in the book “Gone With the Wind.”  The name was perfect, and thus the Place may be the place where the first seeds of the Running Boom were born in Buffalo.

            I think of these roots of the Belle Watlings at this time because I recently ran in the 28^th annual running of the Founders Day Race, held in honor of that fateful day in 1969 when Sully and friends ran twice around the park.  The race still starts and ends at the Belle Watling Fire Hydrant, and some people consider it the top race of the year in the Eastern United States.  Some people feel Buffalo should have gotten the Long Distance Running Hall of Fame because of this race, instead of Utica.  Some people consider this the only true Runner of the Year race.  Of course by some people, I mean Dick Sullivan and his brother Ted.

            The highlight of The Founders Day Race is the awarding of The Founders Day Trophy, which has been won by the likes of Jack Meegan, Dave Bogdan, Fran Emerling, Jack O’Sullivan, Diane McGuire, and Yours Truly.  It is a much sought after honor, and it was rumored that even the Buffalo Bills thought of entering the Founders Day Race in 1995 in order to win this trophy, since they couldn’t win the Super Bowl. 

            Part of the purpose for writing a monthly column for the Checkers Chatter is to give the reader a taste of what running was like back in the seventies.  Therefore I am going to reprint a story I wrote about the running of the third annual Founders Day Race, which was held on Thursday, June 15, 1978.  During the late seventies, one of my good running buddies was Jim Caher, who was Deputy Corporation Council for the city of Buffalo, and a member in good standing of Checkers.  His wife, Sharon, was Editor of The North Buffalo Rocket, a fine neighborhood weekly paper, with a circulation of 18,000, and probably actually read by three of those people who got the paper thrown on their doorsteps for free.  Being that Sharon and Jim both ran, the Rocket became a place that running related articles could appear.  Bob Atanasio, a local runner who practically lived at Delaware Park, wrote a weekly column called “Delaware Park Beat” in which he would write of what was going on with the running community, or express his opinions about the world, from morality to hedonism.  It was quite a column. 

            I also wrote articles now and again, which were usually along the lines of a runners society column about races and events, and believe it or not, written with a humorous bent.  The following was one such story, and should give the reader an idea of some of the runners from 1978, and what they were capable of.  You will note that Joe Jordan is mentioned, and for those who do not know, he is the owner of Checkers Bar on

Hertel Ave.

, and the founder of the Checkers AC.  The story was under the headline “Prestigious and well known ‘Bounders Day Race’ was a huge Success”, and can be found on page six of the June 21, 1978 issue of the North Buffalo Rocket.  Jim Caher, being a lawyer, would read my articles first, just to be certain no one could be sued for libel.  So read on, and hopefully enjoy.

            The third annual Belle Watling Founders Day Race was held Thursday at the Delaware Park Meadow.  Starting at the famous Belle Watling fire hydrant, the race wound twice around the golf course for 3.6 miles

The official starter of the race was Dick Sullivan.  Dick is the Founder of the Belle Watling A.C., the premier running club of Western New York and Canada.  The club, named after Belle Watling of “Gone With the Wind” fame, holds the race each year in honor of Mr. Sullivan’s first race in 1969.

Well over 100 runners participated and somewhere under 100,000 spectators lined the route to cheer on the athletes.  Mike “Rabbit” Donnelly took the lead early in the race before fading after a quarter mile.  Lonny Doan then took over the lead and held on to win in 18 minutes.  Lanny, better known to his friends as Larry, surprised everyone by coming off a rather delicate operation a short time ago to win the race.

Because of his victory in this all important race, Lanny is said to be in negotiations with General Mills to replace Bruce Jenner on the Wheaties box.

Placing close behind Loony was Roger Hauck, once again snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.  Roger’s time was 18:15.  In third place, with a time of 18:27, was Fred Gordon, who probably took time out from a 30 mile run to partake in this event. 

Next came the ever dynamic and anemic Kim Wettlaufer, who set the course record a year ago when he won in 17:30.  Not bad.  This year he was only able to do a 18:30.  Quite a come down.  Right behind Kim was Dave Bogdan in 18:37.

Within the Founders Day Race was the contest among members of the Belle Watlings to win the Founders Day Trophy (named after the Polish bowling great, Bronslaws Trophy.)  All Belle Watlings were handicapped, and the lovely trophy was won by Tom Donnelly, who for some reason was given a two minute handicap.  Tom’s real time was 19:55, well behind the 19:19 run by his brother, Bill.

Jim “Jim” Herzog also ran an excellent race, placing seventh just ahead of Randy Halm, and totally humiliating his brother Bob.  Dick “Roller Skates” Kendall proved to all, especially John Richardson, that he is well on the comeback trail.  Dick ran a splendid 20:16.

The main feature of the race, a grudge match between Orky Brown and Dick Sullivan (the two grand old men of running), never took place.  This was because, as Sullivan said, “I do not believe in humiliating the old boy again, and so soon after the last time.”

Linda Rodgers was the first woman finisher, running in a time of 21:40.  Not far behind her was Sharon Caher, editor of the Buffalo Rocket.  Sharon’s time of 16:30 would have been a course record, unfortunately, she still had a lap to run.

Pat Janiga, who also ran, asked me to mention his name in this article.  He wants to cut it out and put it in his running scrapbook he’s been keeping for ten years.  With this article, Pat can finish filling in the first page.

Notable runners made conspicuous by their absence from the race were Ralph Zimmerman, Dick Berkle, Frank Shorter, Bill Rodgers and Bob Atanasio.  All sent their apologies to the Founder.  It was even rumored that the former great Olympian Paavo Nurmi would have liked to run the race, but the fact that he died 20 years ago prevented him from doing so.

After the race there was beer and watermelon for all.  Joe Jordan’s performance in delivering the beer was excellent, which is more than can be said of his race performance.  Bottles of fine wine were given out as prizes to many of the runners.

Most runners remained at the park an hour or two after the race, just getting back to nature, and getting slightly zonkered.  The beer finally ran out, so we helped the Founder to his feet and dusted him off.  Most people meandered home.

The Belle Watlings headed for their official club house, which the Founder saw fit to name after his chief rival running club, Checkers.  And so the park was once again empty, except for Dave Bogdan, finishing his workout.