Author: rrunnin234

I am a long time runner and coach and I'm here to write about it. I have blogged some before (years ago), but that site is now archived. My plan is to write some personal reflections skipping around the 40+ years of my running career, probably some race reports. However, I'd like to spend a fair amount discussing current events in the world of running, and likely dishing out on some coaching and training advice. I have some opinions--okay a lot--and like to share those. rws_58@yahoo.com Here are my obligatory PRs, all set way back in the 1980s and 1990s: 3K - 8:54 5K - 15:34 8K - 25:35 10K - 32:11 15K - 49:41 1/2 marathon - 1:13 marathon - 2:34 Now I'm a senior, yes a Senior (60+)! age group runner and here are my 60 and up PBs over the past couple of years: 1 mile road race - 5:15 (former American road record) 5K - 17:28 (USATF masters champion) 8K - 28:12 (USATF masters champion) 15K - 54:43 (Gasparilla 15K) 1/2 marathon - 1:17:49 (World Masters Champion)

Young American Runners: The Mid 1970s

billrodgers

1974 and 1975: The Groundwork

Looking back a bit, 1974 or 1975 were the years that I could have, should have started running. I was in my mid-teens and while my growth into adolescence had been slow, I was growing. I’d go for a run of a few miles here and there, in the summer of 1974, but not more than once a week. Nevertheless, I did keep active by playing pick up basketball, some pretty aggressive touch football, and going out for solo bike rides around town.

School continued to get better, and I started making friends again. Kids that I hadn’t gotten along with so well in the previous year or two seemed to come around and include more in conversation and goofing around at school, as well as for weekend or evening basketball games at the gym.

I didn’t think a lot about track or running, and didn’t even bother to go out for the team my junior year. But I managed to summon the courage to do a 6 day ski trip with friends over spring break, my first trip out of state in a year and a half. I almost didn’t go because of anxiety attacks leading up to our departure and I lost a couple nights of sleep before we actually got there. But I pulled it together and ended up having a good trip.

That spring a guy named Bill Rodgers won the Boston Marathon in a blazing 2:09:55, at 4:57 per mile for 26.2 miles. That got my attention, and I read several news reports in the papers and in Sports Illustrated. I started running a little, and I still had that vaulting pole, so on evenings and weekends I’d go to the university and do a little jumping on my own. My vaulter neighbor friend was a varsity jumper by then, so I was on my own. I never really learned how to bend the pole, I didn’t have the upper body strength, nor probably the coordination to hang and let that thing fling me over the bar. Nevertheless, I hung out at the track and practiced some, plus I watched a few college meets, including one that had several future stars who would make an impact on the roads and track in future years (names like Bjorkland, Meyer, Durkin, and Byers).

A few days after school got out I entered a local all-comers meet where I did my last vaulting. I cleared 10 feet for the first time, and even got a ribbon for the effort. And I long jumped 17’3″, keeping up with my history of adding about a foot a year.

Just as my parents and I were preparing for a trip to the East Coast, where my dad had a conference and to visit relatives, I read a small article in the local paper saying that Oregon runner, US record holder at 2K 3K, 5K, 10K, Steve Prefontaine, had died in a car crash in Oregon. I knew of Pre, but up to that point had at best been a casual fan of the sport, but that news was devastating because he had been so young and so talented. I couldn’t believe it, and it was almost as if he had been someone I’d known at school. So we traveled for a couple days, and that weighed heavily in my mind.

pre

We spent our first week in Boston, at MIT. I ran almost every day along the Charles River and even counted the Smoots on the bridge. I wonder if they still measure that bridge in Smoots. And then another week or 10 days in New York, visiting my ailing grandparents. I there several times, at least every other day. It was great, and I sort of kicked around going out for cross country in the fall. But we returned to the muggy and hot Midwest, and the frequent runs sort of fell off the wayside. I dabbled in a little part time work on some farmland, did a bit of hack golfing and a fair amount of pick up basketball. Running fell off to a couple times a month.

School started and a couple friends decided to start a soccer club. It was pretty informal, we didn’t have coaches or sponsors or any school backing, but we’d scrimmage behind the school or at the university a couple times a week. I was average to below average on the team. Several of the guys ran cross country and they’d come back with tales of meets, but I didn’t think I was missing much. In the winter I played city league basketball and a lot of pick up games at the gym. I was sort of a gym rat, not much talent but I enjoyed the time with friends and of course the activity.

1976 – The Olympics and The Watershed

By my last year in high school I had finally shed most of that anxiety issues, had become a decent student, and I continued to grow slowly. I was about 5’8″ and 130 lbs by the last half of the school year. I was pretty fit for a non-athlete, and even went to the indoor track a few times over the winter to go run a few miles. I recall doing 3 miles in under 19 minutes, in a progression run and feeling pretty good about that. For about a minute. Then I recalled that just a few years earlier high school runner Craig Virgin had gone under 14 minutes for 3 miles.

About a week or two before the season started, I decided to go out for track. I went in and filled out the forms, but only had vague notion of what my goals were (that was part of the sign up). I felt that I was done with vaulting but thought I could long jump and maybe run. But I had no idea at what. I knew I wasn’t fast enough to score varsity points in the sprints (figuring you’d need to go under well 11 for the 100 yard dash, 23 for the 220, or about 52 or 53 for the 440–to even have a shot as the 4th guy on a relay), and no background or much indication of endurance needed to be a distance runner.

I went to practice that first day in late February and we did a mile for warm up, and some pretty intense drills for about 20 or 30 minutes, followed by a light session of speed work in the school’s parking lot. I went home feeling pretty discouraged and out of place. I didn’t think I’d have anything to contribute to the team, so it would it would have just been a waste of time. So I walked into the coach’s office the next day and told him that I wouldn’t be continuing. The coach, a former All-American sprinter, tried to talk me out of it. He actually looked genuinely hurt, and he showed concern that I wasn’t willing to give it a go. I didn’t get where he was coming from.  My mind was pretty made up, and just wanted to wrap up high school and get ready for college.

I felt bad. Felt guilty. But looked forward to my last quarter of high school.

I signed up for spring classes about a week later and took a light load because I had the credits. Gym was still a requirement, but I found that I could contract out of gym by choosing another activity. So I approached the same coach and asked if I could run three times a week for 20 to 30 minutes at a time, instead of taking gym. He was cool about it and was encouraging.

So off I went! I kept a little handwritten log on some blank typing paper and reported to the coach every month. I’d run after school some days, after dinner, and even at 9 or 10 at night that spring. And once in a while some friends joined up. It was the easiest, most fun gym class experience I’d had. I would do at least 25 or 30 minutes and up to about 40 minutes, and sometimes I’d run four or even five times. It felt good, and I found that I felt better for the next day.

That year the school’s track team had its best season ever. Several of my friends place high at the state meet and a bunch of school records were broken. I also started following track a little bit more. Reading Kenny Moore’s articles on the marathon in Sports Illustrated, reading about results in the NCAA and AAU circuit as the Olympics approached. And then my first geek out track experience since 5th or 6th grade, I went to a friend’s place to watch a couple nights of the Olympic Trials. I was really inspired by the intermediate hurdlers, Ralph Mann, Nolan Cromwell, Mike Shine, and this new guy just a couple years older than me, Edwin Moses.

Just after graduation they had that local all-comer’s meet that I had done the previous year, so I decide to enter. I did the 120 yard high hurdles, 100 yard dash, 220, and long jump.

Jesse Owens I was not. I didn’t crash but got last or 2nd to last in the hurdles. I don’t remember the time but probably about 19 seconds. My friend won in the 15s. Next up was the 100 yard. The fastest girl from our school and a finalist at state was in our heat. She dusted me. I ran about 11.6, she was 11.4. My friend the hurdler shook his head, as if to say, good thing you didn’t stay on the team. I did a little better in the long jump, and went 18’1″. I was pretty happy with that. And in the 220 I ran in the 2nd heat, and about 26.0 just ahead of that girl from our school. So a little bit of redemption.

After school ended kept running and going to weekly all-comer meets in town. I got my 220 down to 25.5 and maybe knocked 0.1 in the 100, and I knew I didn’t quite have that sprint speed. So inspired by my high school friends and the Olympic Trials I gave the 440 a try. OMG that was painful. I think I went out in about 26 and finished in 56. But I was hooked. My high school coach, the one I disappointed at the beginning of the season by quitting, happened by and said “wish I could have had you on the team this year, we would have you running 53 by now!” I was heading to a small college and decided that I’d give track a try the next year. I even tried a couple time trials at longer distances. These were not much, but I managed a 2:25 880, 5:30 mile, and 12:00 2 mile. I think in each case I went out too fast, but also didn’t have the endurance to hold a modest pace, so I figured that I’d still go for the 440 next year.

I ran semi-regularly through the summer, keeping up the three times a week, and onto my new college campus. By the first week the cross country coach stopped me and asked how much running I had done (not much, but I enjoyed it), and would I want to join the team this year? No, I’m not a distance guy and don’t they do like 10 miles a day and 15 on weekend long runs?

I dabbled in intramurals and pick up sports and kept running for about a month into college until I broke my toe playing barefoot touch football. Then I had the crazy idea to try out for the basketball team. They hadn’t won many games and I thought I was okay at pick up basketball. But I was among the first three or four to get cut at the end of the first week. So ego bruised but toe healed I started running again. One afternoon I jogged a mile or so and ran the campus 4 mile XC course and ran 24:50, so I was pretty happy to run 6:12 pace for 4 miles without being pushed.

About that time, Bill Rodgers beat Frank Shorter in the New York City Marathon, the first time they ran through all five boroughs, and that was all over the news for weeks. The popularity of running had grown exponentially in just a couple of years and mass marathon boom had just begun. Over break I went home and continued running and upped it a bit. Maybe going 15 miles a week and doing some hills and stair climbs once a week. I was going to run college track.

Checking Back In

One post, 4 months ago, 0 comments 0 views. Starting slow.

I started slow as a runner, and it took me a few years to get my feet and a few more to do it with any consistency. And one of the things that helped me get there was learning to start out slowly and to work into a pace, not like a rabbit.

I’m not sure where to take this blog.

Being 2016 and an Olympic year, I thought it would be fun start blogging again, and to relive some things, while also thinking about the present and future of the sport (larger scale, and small scale how I relate). Been running for a long, long time, since the 1970s, still at it and I still enjoy racing although at lesser capacity compared to 30 years ago.

Let’s Jog! The 1960s

It has been well documented by other far more articulate sources on the obscure beginnings of the running movement. In my family our dad was the first runner, he took the Dr. Kenneth Cooper aerobics recommendations seriously, and in the 1960s he started to take the dog(s) out for a couple miles about three times a week. Dad was pretty athletic, loved to move and push himself, but he wasn’t built like your classic runner. More like a high school or JV college linebacker or small lineman. He wasn’t super quick, but he kept fit throughout his life, and he was very strong. Every run for Dad was a progression or tempo run. He’d start out at mid-7 min pace and do about 2 miles at that effort, and on his return, when he got a half mile from the house, he’d pick it up, so by the end he was running close to a sprint, head back and rolling bit, sweating profusely and breathing like a choo-choo train.

I tried running with him once, when I was about 8 or 9. I had no idea about pacing and took off at a dead sprint on the downhill street near our house. Dad sped up as well, and maybe he was even surprised. He didn’t say much. By the time we got to the bottom of the hill, a quarter mile from the house I was gassed. But kept jogging with him for a couple hundred yards, and he might have said something about not going so fast at first before he continued ahead. I was familiar with the route and walked more than jogged the dirt roads and a little bit of prairie trail over a broken down bridge made of railroad ties. One of my first bouts of exercise-induced-asthma.

In elementary school I dabbled with running in gym class, and had a knack for stealing bases in Little League for a couple of years. And about 5th grade I made some new friends who liked to sprint and jump at the all schools city track meet held every spring, so I worked hard to run the 50 yard dash and make a relay team. That spring I clocked a 7.2 for the 50 yard dash during gym (but that was a flyer because my next best time was 7.4 or 7.5), but I think my gym teacher might have given me a couple tenths, because no one ran more reps than me. But anyway, that went on the record for my Presidential Fitness test, and it was in the to 10% for my age and weight. I didn’t fare so well in the 600 yard run walk, and my time was well over 2 minutes. Maybe high 2:20s. So I wasn’t a distance runner.

After the school year we’d watch AAU meets on TV. And we’d see the likes of Jim Ryan, Jim Hines, or Wyomia Tyus run against the best in the USA and world and then we’d go to the track and try to emulate them.

Sixth grade all my track friends had moved on, I grew a bit, and got a little faster. Fast enough to make the “Baton Relay” the school’s A team. I was 4th man and the other guys were all faster (all three went on to be starting football players and track athletes in high school). I ran about 6.9, again on a flyer in gym, but was consistently 7.0 or 7.1 for the 50, and my 600 time improved a little to about 2:00 or 2:10.

Hello Darkness, The Early 1970s

By junior high we were into the 1970s, and track kind of fell off the radar.I stopped watching the summer meets on TV and my friends weren’t around to go to the track. The issues to follow more about Kent State and Vietnam, and Woodstock and Hendrix and the Rolling Stones. There were no track or running programs for kids in those days, and no distance running mentors that I knew of. You’d see high school and college runners from time to time, and the infrequent middle aged jogger like my dad.

I did give track a try as a 7th grader, but I hadn’t grown much taller from the previous year, under an inch. Still under 5 feet at 13, but I’d put on an extra 8 or 10 lbs. We didn’t do the 50 yard for the track team (but I did run about 6.8 for the 50 in the Presidential Test, and right around 2:00 for the 600 yard dash). As bigger kids, we did 100 yard dash, 220, and 440. I ran the 100, 220, and 4X100 relay, and pole vaulted. I avoided running workouts, like repeat 220s, and the longest I’d run would be about a half mile for the team warm up. Our team was very weak. We’d go against farm kids from outlying towns and they’d run circles around us.  I did score a couple points here and there in the field events and maybe a on relay or two.

By 8th grade we found out that our school was closing, and they cut out all sports except basketball. I played on the B team. By the end of the year, I’d grown an inch more but was still at 5 feet or a hair under. But I’d put on another 5 or 10 pounds after basketball. Maybe 5 foot and 100 to 105 pounds. My 50 time was about 6.7 or 6.8 again and I might have cracked 2:00 for the 600. I did continue pole vaulting a little. We nabbed a couple poles from our school, and did some backyard Olympics. That was until my friend Chris, a really good athlete, slipped out on his pole plant and shattered his arm.

I went to Europe that summer, and grew and inch, finally over 5 feet at the start of freshman year! But didn’t exercise much and put another few pounds. This would be the fattest year of my life. I was at a new school and hated it. It was much bigger than our old school, the students were just different–some very prim and proper, some pretty rough–and the administrators as well as a good portion of the teachers were mean. It was my year of hell, when I realized I wasn’t cut out to be a rock musician, nor cool enough to be friends with the up and coming Hendrix’s and Edgar Winter’s.

Nevertheless, I was inspired by the 1972 Olympics. The American breakout races by Frank Shorter and Dave Wottle, the fantastic 5K and 10K performances by Lasse Viren and the agonizing defeat of Jim Ryun in the 1500, but triumph by another Finn Pekka Vasala, and Kip Keino’s last appearance in the Olympics.

I did no organized sports that year, but a few times did get into some things that I shouldn’t have. Most of school was not interesting, but I did put in an effort in Spanish and science so I at least got Bs in those classes. In the spring we did the Presidential Fitness test again, and I ran about 6.6 for the 50 and somewhere 1:50 for the 600. By the time we finished the year, I so hated that place and my young life. My track friends were long gone, and I had parted ways with the rock and rollers.

But we did a little more pole vaulting, and I chipped in with a neighbor friend to buy an entry-level fiberglass vaulting pole from a sports supply catalog, and then built our own pit with a van load of foam rubber that was stuffed it all into oversized burlap bags.

I even jogged a few miles a few times that spring to improve my conditioning, and recall openly saying that I might even go out for cross country the next fall at my new high school. “Ha! You’re too fat!” blurted out my friend’s older brother. Shamed. I dropped the idea. I was 15 and 5’3″ and 115 pounds. And for the rest of the summer I was the short, undeveloped, fat kid.  Butt of more than a few jokes every week from friends who, looking back, weren’t much of friends at all.

At our first high school assembly, at yet even a larger school, the coaches tried to recruit more kids onto the cross country team, “Hey if you are going to compete in The Valley Conference [for other spots], you are going to have to be in shape!” My 600 times were pretty weak, I felt chunky, and I’d had asthma since the age of 5, so no.

The discomfort of the of the previous year’s schooling had worn off some by mid year. The new high school was much better than the one across town. But I wasn’t really mixing in with the students. Some had been friends in year’s past–even a couple old track friends from elementary who were a year older–but we no longer seemed to have much in common. Sophomore year was a stint in social purgatory.

Meanwhile, I was starting to deal with anxiety, something I had not experienced much of before.  Issues that resulted from some experiences on the European trip, combined with the bad decisions I had made freshman year, bubbled into bouts of tension and confusion and fear. I was afraid of new things and decided that I didn’t like to travel more than an hour or so away from home anymore. The thought of an overnighter out of state, or a cross country road trip sent me into days of panic. And I wouldn’t go. I skipped Christmas and spring break ski trips and stayed home.

In school, however, I turned the corner. That year I started studying more and doing better in all of my classes. All of my friends and acquaintances were planning college (none of the rock and rollers were headed that way), and while my parents had expected that of our family, my sibs were languishing and staying at home with no direction. I also started to grow a bit more, and lose a little bit of weight.

Winter of my sophomore year, I was 5’4″ and 108-110 pounds. I decided to go out for track. Being the smallest guy on the team I was pretty tentative and didn’t have much confidence in my running ability (not fast enough for sprints and not enough natural endurance to be a distance runner), so I stuck to field events and focused on the pole vault and long jump. The vault coach also coached middle distances and he encouraged me to try the 880 or mile. But my friends, or the ones I tried to hang with, were cool and they didn’t like the coach nor his son who vaulted and ran the 880. That, and I just didn’t like to run much. I did a few extra runs during spring break, but other than the team warm up half mile before practice  and short cool  down afterwards, I skipped out of interval or sprint sessions. Blatantly hiding out in the pole vault pit or skipping over to long jumping when the coaches asked the vaulters to do some repeat 220s.

I cleared about 9′ 6″ in practice and did 16′ 3″ in the long jump that year. But about mid-season, on the day that I’d had my best vault in practice, I hyperventilated or something and landed in the pit feeling like I’d guzzled a few beers or been doped with some drug. I was light headed, dizzy, numb feeling. And it didn’t go away in a few minutes, it lingered for hours. Basically, I didn’t know how to handle the adrenalin rush. So that odd experienced added to my anxiety. I made it through the season, but skipped a few meets, including the opportunity to jump in the conference meet for the sophomore squad. I just couldn’t bring myself to go to that meet and face the lightheadedness and internally induced disorientation.

I ended the season on a rainy Saturday hidden in my room, and not doing a much for the rest of the day, while my team traveled to a city a couple hours away and competed. The coach was nice, said nice things about all of us at the end of year awards, and while I didn’t earn a letter, I did get a set of “sophomore numerals” that could be put on a letter jacket or a bulletin board. They were pined to my wall with thumb tacks for years.

 Next: Young America, The Mid 1970s

 Photo, all these years later running a 10 miler in the 2010s!

Snowman stampede finish