Running - Part#1: The History

            When I think back to my earliest memories of running, I picture my Dad.  Out on the dirt roads of Otsego County’s Dover Township, of Northern Lower Michigan, he’d pull out his Adidas racing flats.  Those shoes were classics, and some of the earliest versions of a running shoe (white shoes with red and blue stripes).  I can recall being in about the 3^rd or 4^th grade and following him down the hill towards Whitehouse Trail.  I distinctly remember stopping

at the corner though, and coming home as he made his way on down to Sparr Store.  I’m sure part of it was that it was hard to keep up with him, although climbing the hills to get back home couldn’t have been fun.  It was more, however, about the horse that was in the field just beyond that corner.  I remember it was a dark, brown color; but I also remember that it was scary.  I think it had something to do with his loud whinny and the way it would run at the fence if you came near.  Apparently, at that age, I thought that running the hills back to the house was less of an issue than trying to catch up to my Dad and having that horse see me.  I was only slightly traumatized by horses when we lived in that home, but those are stories for another time.  It wasn’t long after that, when we got a quarter-horse named Buckles, that everything was made right, and I made the decision that I was going to be a horse rancher when I grew up.

            When I reached junior high, I ran track.  I think I ran the mile and did the long jump.  I was small, and thin, and it was tough running in those Chuck Taylor basketball shoes.  Those shoes miraculously became my track shoes when spring rolled around on that old cinder track.  I just tried not to get lapped by Pete who was a year older than me, and the man-child of running at our school.  The summer of 1979 was the turnaround though.  That was the summer when running started switching from a way to get from point A to point B into more of a passion.  I’d always run, and although I wouldn’t say I got a lot faster, or that I even started growing, I did start enjoying it more.  When I was real little, I would run up and down the back hill in the summer with my wagon and scooter, or with my green saucer sled in the winter (talk to my parents for pictures and family movies of my sisters and I playing together).  

From those experiences, running evolved into sprints to explore; adventures with my dog King into the hills, and valleys, and swamps behind our farm.  Some would probably argue I was running from the house as quickly as possible to avoid starting homework, but either way it was running.  The summer of 1979 I was in between my 7^th and 8^th grade year of school.  While visiting my extended family in southern Michigan, my cousins and I decided to run a recently established race around Clark Lake that our Grandma lived on.  We trained and practiced with two of my cousins’ friends by running around the lake for the better part of a Friday afternoon; the day before the race.  The following day; Saturday, we ran the race.  It was a seven mile run.  

It was my first road race ever.  We were young and the muscles in our legs were like those of any kids back in the day.  We made it and finished 14+ miles in two days, plus the swimming in between.  That Sunday morning though, coming down the stairs of the old farmhouse in the orchard off Jefferson Road, was not pretty.  Our legs didn’t want to bend, and so we had to side step our way down; much to the humor of my Aunt and Uncle.  If I remember right, my Uncle “helped” us by wrestling and pounding on us a little.  It was great fun let me tell you, but the fire of running had been lit. 

            I ran cross country my freshman year in high school with my friend Chris.  I didn’t even weigh a hundred pounds yet (not until the end of that year), but I finally managed my fastest time on the very last race of the year, in a snowstorm on our home course, at the county club out west of town.  

Chris and I are on the far right top row.

Throughout our season we ran on different courses throughout Northern Michigan; from turkey farms, to downhill-ski resorts and state forests.  That was the only year I ran cross country, as I started marching in the band the following fall.

            It was within the next year or so that I began occasionally running the five miles home after school, as well as starting the tradition of running our own town’s road race.  It was the climax to Gaylord’s week long celebration called Alpenfest. 

Sister Becky with the H2O

Some might argue that the climax to the festival was the parade, but I did both of them, and although I really enjoyed each event, I loved the preparation for the race.  It was 7.5 miles long at that time; on a hellacious course that was out in the open with big, long hills.  It was run the 3^rd Saturday of July.  Even in Northern Michigan, it was often unbearably hot.  Looking back in my sketchy running journals of the time, I actually trained well for that race over the years as I did intermediate runs throughout the week and a long run on the weekends.  Somehow I’d figured that out.  Many times I ran it with my friend Jim, once or twice with my Dad, and several times with my boss at the local IGA store, Pat Heath.  Mr. Heath was a good runner, competitive, but helpful in the way that he offered good advice on training.  I knew I had run a good race if I was close to him or his older son Mike.  

In '84 (following HS graduation) with Mr. Heath after the Alpenfest Race.

Later, during the summer between my freshman and sophomore years in college, while at home working at the store, I went with the Heath family down to Flint, Michigan to run the 10 Mile Bobby Crim Race.  It was my first long run beyond the Clark Lake or Alpenfest Run.  It was a big race with a lot of runners.  I finished strong, and the crowds lining the cobblestone streets created a huge rush.  

I also competed solo in the local and well known Mark Mellon Triathlon, as well as the “Run through Hell” (in Hell, Michigan) with my Dad and Aunt Cherie as extra races while home from college.

            While attending college, my roommate Tim Johnson and I began running together.  We trained in neighborhoods around the school and at one point, along with several other guys from our suite, kept track of our time and tried to beat our record for that course every time we ran.  It worked and we got faster; until the point that we “bonked”.  It was then that I learned the importance of scheduling rest days to allow your body the time to recuperate. 

            I continued running, after marrying right out of college, and moving to Rockford, Illinois.  Usually I’d begin running in the early spring, and build up to run summer and fall races.  I added the local Rockford 4^th of July race to my traditional two races back in Michigan.  Tim and I also continued getting together to

run, often competing in duathlons as well as road races.  The Cherry Valley Duathlon (run-bike-run) was a favorite since it was nearby.  Sometimes we competed as a team, and sometimes as individuals; although my fat-tired mountain bike made that endeavor a bit more difficult.  My fastest times during those early 90’s came at the old Beloit Fall Classic 10K (where I ran in 38:51 at a 6:16 pace) and the Rockford Jingle Bell Run 5K (where I ran in 19:15 at a 6:12 pace).

            In 1992, while in the middle of my 3^rd year of teaching, I got to know our D.A.R.E. officer at school.  Rick Sager was into long distance races; races called marathons.  Somehow he talked me into running one that June up in Duluth, Minnesota.  How could I say no to someone who said I could easily do it?  How could I say no to running a marathon along Lake Superior’s northern coast?  

Rick Finishing Grandma's Marathon in '93

Cindy & I after my 1st Marathon in '92.

Now, 25 years later, with a lifetime of ups and downs throughout it all, the passion continues.  It’s a passion that encompasses people, and training, and courses, and trails, and races.  That, however, is a story for another time.  Stay tuned…

            See you along The Way…