IN THE FALL of 1969, I went out for the cross country team at Grosse Ile High School, Grosse Ile, Michigan. I was a senior, 17 years old, and with a January birthday only four months away, I was one of the older seniors in school.
The varsity team consisted of Dave Duba, Paul Wylie, Don Barker, John Schultz, Anil Telang, Dennis Duba, and Herb Trix.
I didn't know a thing about running, and I was shocked at how far members of the team ran in practice. I could not keep up, gasping for oxygen every single time. Most days I regretted going out for the team, and meets were an embarrassment as juniors and sophomores beat me.
What I later learned was that these boys had run and practiced all Summer, but all that meant to me was that they were in constant pain on their vacation. I thought, what kind of persons would do such a thing? Why would anyone want to get used to leaden thighs and burning lungs? I understood the feeling of pride in being faster and beating others in competition, but at such a cost? Long distance running seemed like a sport for masochists as far as I was concerned.
But our team was ranked first in the league, and highly regarded state wide, so part of me understood that pain for that was worth doing ... high standing in your school, admiration from peers, press coverage. I knew I would not be part of that group, and if my memory is correct, I never ran in a varsity meet (although I might have because of another runner's injury or illness, but with dismal results). It was embarrassing to be on junior varsity as a senior, and worse not being number one there.
I don't know why, but I kept at it. I suppose the shame of quitting would have been worse than the disease of mediocrity. In practice I was a slacker; didn't run as far or as fast as I could, or as the other boys did. I hated it.
With one exception that might have been the seed that sprouted a new idea from the whole experience. Six hundred yard repeats on grass at Elizabeth Park across the River. The repeat part (what amounted to my first experience with interval training) was tough, and I couldn't get through all of them, but I learned (and so did the coaches) that I had speed and a certain amount of stamina over middle distances. There was talk of how I could help the track team in the Spring.
In those days, a cross country race was two miles. Our top two runners, Dave Duba and Paul Wylie, closely matched but with an edge to Dave, ran around 10:00 at their best. I think Dave broke 10 as the season progressed. The next three or four came in from about 10:20 to the high 10:45 or so. I don't remember my first efforts, probably in the high 12s, maybe even somewhere in the 13s, but I do know that I gradually improved over the season to being number one on junior varsity, only one runner from varsity! I felt a little pride in that, but not much. I think my best time was the junior varsity league and final meet of the year ... in which I ran 11:30 or thereabouts against all of the runners from all of the member schools, and it was in that meet that I felt good running for the very first time -- no real pain -- the beginning of comprehending what distance racing/training did for a distance runner over time. I also won that meet by a large margin, nobody even close. I remember thinking, where is everybody? Why is this happening? Are they not trying because it's the last meet of the year and are sick and tired of all the running? My teammates cheered me on, too. Much appreciated.
And that was the beginning for me.
That and a book called The Jim Ryun Story by Cordner Nelson, copyright 1967. The things that boy did. A 4:26.4 one month before he turned 16. And then the rest of the story ...
Inspired by Ryun, at the conclusion of the cross country season, I marked a mile around our block using a tape measure to record a certain distance, then matched that distance with pedal revolutions of my bike pedals, after which I pedaled around the block with the requisite number of pedal revolutions that covered the distance of one mile. I marked the spot with spray paint on the pavement. Was it exactly one mile? Within inches!
Over the course of two or three weeks, maybe a month (I did not keep notes ... going on memory here), I made multiple attempts at breaking five minutes in the mile. My training consisted of making multiple attempts at breaking five minutes in the mile. I don't remember how many attempts I made (maybe three?), or even the times I was pulling -- but I kept getting closer until one day in November, 1969 (I have a note of that, but unfortunately no specific date), I clocked ...
4:58.3
Note to self: one way to train/practice achieving a desire result at a particular distance is to attempt the goal repeatedly until made.
I was very proud of that achievement, even though I knew it was the same speed as Dave Duba could run for two miles. I didn't care, because I suddenly felt like a miler. I wasn't 15 almost 16 like Ryun, and I only just started my mile fixation, but damn it, I got under five.
References, in which two of my cross country mates, Dave Duba and John Schultz, are named as significant players in the first Annual Falmouth Road Race, 1973:
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