Haddonfield Running Company (part one)
Haddonfield and I share a history with running. I ran this city way back during my track and field days in Paul VI High School. Since then, I have come back for the Wednesday evening runs hosted by the Haddonfield Running Company. Those runs helped me to shed forty pounds when I resolved to loose weight before my wedding. I came back as a more advanced running training for longer distance races such as the 10k and half-marathon. Now a very close friend, Jon, recently moved to South Jersey, and we have both committed to running the Wednesday night runs as time well spent together.
Jon is my training partner, my friendly competition, and my equal in many ways. He is a sprinter at heart, which I persuaded into tempting longer runs. 5k racing events were our meeting ground- where his sprinting style could match my relaxed stride. In the past, I was guaranteed success in races that called for endurance; he was destined for races that called for strength or speed. My strategy was to keep him at a safe distance, enough so that he couldn’t pass me in a wind sprint. Things have changed. He started training to compete in triathlons, and has managed to squeak ahead of me longer distance races. Now we are more evenly matched, if Jon hasn’t bettered me with his intense triathlon-training regimen.
I’ve found my own niche in the Haddonfield running group- back of the pack runners. Don’t read me wrong. On any given race, from 5k to half-marathon, I’ll typically cross that finish line with 50% of the runners in front, and the other half trailing behind. However, most of the Wednesday night runners are regulars, diehards who come back week after week; a different breed than the weekend warriors that compete in many races. Then again, consider all the people that never take the initiative to lace up and run. Fifty percent doesn’t sound so bad when you consider all the people who choose not to race, or aren’t in the health to run. Even the last person to cross the finish line is ahead of those that never crossed the stating line, and is a winner as far as I am concerned. That is the beauty of the personal record. It’s the very spirit of running.
Looking around, the other runners are a motley bunch. The span of ages, diversity of body types, and range of physical condition continues to amaze me. Take the eleven-year-old who was raised into the sport by athletic parents. Look at the “masters class” elders (euphemism for seniors) who have managed to maintain a decent level of fitness well into their golden years. Or the thick-hipped, top-heavy women. They can run for their life despite the challenges presented by biomechanics. These people are likely to pass you on the road. See that muscular male with the shaved chest to showcase his pectorals? Don’t expect him to survive the second mile. Apparently thick muscle mass doesn’t bode well in this sport.
A runner simply cannot be assessed by their looks alone. Take Steve Prefontaine, my running hero, for example. He was shorter than the other runners, and didn’t have any particular grace to his stride. That didn’t matter. His spirit was set ablaze by a passion for running and competition. You can read that sentiment on the face of Emil Zatopek in those historic photos of Olympic competitions gone past. It was what spurned Roger Bannister to shave off a few seconds to achieve the perfect mile. Cliché, but it is that mind over body mentality.
Aching now, your body wants to quit
lactic acid buildup burns from within
you don’t want to run that next mile
rivulets of sweat run down arm
not a pretty sight
Placing one foot in front of the other
hoping to pass the person in front of you
thinking, “Just one more mile,” for the next four miles
forcing footsteps into perpetual motion
call it the grace from within
Tonight I position myself between Jon and Kevin, another from the niche. Kevin looks like the antithetical runner. He is a 200+ pound beer gutted in his thirty-something-years that clocks well over forty miles a week. In training terms, that is ambitious. Kevin says that he plans to make a break for it and run his heart out. I entirely believe him. Running for time comes down to an internal struggle between who you really are, and who you want to become. Even before the official start, his mind is off racing, planning splits for each mile of that seven-mile course. Unfortunately, I already ran five miles that morning, and I’ve mentally accepted defeat over Kevin. Tonight my goal is to maintain a position behind Kevin, and stay competitive (if not surpass) Jon.
Jon is my training partner, my friendly competition, and my equal in many ways. He is a sprinter at heart, which I persuaded into tempting longer runs. 5k racing events were our meeting ground- where his sprinting style could match my relaxed stride. In the past, I was guaranteed success in races that called for endurance; he was destined for races that called for strength or speed. My strategy was to keep him at a safe distance, enough so that he couldn’t pass me in a wind sprint. Things have changed. He started training to compete in triathlons, and has managed to squeak ahead of me longer distance races. Now we are more evenly matched, if Jon hasn’t bettered me with his intense triathlon-training regimen.
I’ve found my own niche in the Haddonfield running group- back of the pack runners. Don’t read me wrong. On any given race, from 5k to half-marathon, I’ll typically cross that finish line with 50% of the runners in front, and the other half trailing behind. However, most of the Wednesday night runners are regulars, diehards who come back week after week; a different breed than the weekend warriors that compete in many races. Then again, consider all the people that never take the initiative to lace up and run. Fifty percent doesn’t sound so bad when you consider all the people who choose not to race, or aren’t in the health to run. Even the last person to cross the finish line is ahead of those that never crossed the stating line, and is a winner as far as I am concerned. That is the beauty of the personal record. It’s the very spirit of running.
Looking around, the other runners are a motley bunch. The span of ages, diversity of body types, and range of physical condition continues to amaze me. Take the eleven-year-old who was raised into the sport by athletic parents. Look at the “masters class” elders (euphemism for seniors) who have managed to maintain a decent level of fitness well into their golden years. Or the thick-hipped, top-heavy women. They can run for their life despite the challenges presented by biomechanics. These people are likely to pass you on the road. See that muscular male with the shaved chest to showcase his pectorals? Don’t expect him to survive the second mile. Apparently thick muscle mass doesn’t bode well in this sport.
A runner simply cannot be assessed by their looks alone. Take Steve Prefontaine, my running hero, for example. He was shorter than the other runners, and didn’t have any particular grace to his stride. That didn’t matter. His spirit was set ablaze by a passion for running and competition. You can read that sentiment on the face of Emil Zatopek in those historic photos of Olympic competitions gone past. It was what spurned Roger Bannister to shave off a few seconds to achieve the perfect mile. Cliché, but it is that mind over body mentality.
Aching now, your body wants to quit
lactic acid buildup burns from within
you don’t want to run that next mile
rivulets of sweat run down arm
not a pretty sight
Placing one foot in front of the other
hoping to pass the person in front of you
thinking, “Just one more mile,” for the next four miles
forcing footsteps into perpetual motion
call it the grace from within
Tonight I position myself between Jon and Kevin, another from the niche. Kevin looks like the antithetical runner. He is a 200+ pound beer gutted in his thirty-something-years that clocks well over forty miles a week. In training terms, that is ambitious. Kevin says that he plans to make a break for it and run his heart out. I entirely believe him. Running for time comes down to an internal struggle between who you really are, and who you want to become. Even before the official start, his mind is off racing, planning splits for each mile of that seven-mile course. Unfortunately, I already ran five miles that morning, and I’ve mentally accepted defeat over Kevin. Tonight my goal is to maintain a position behind Kevin, and stay competitive (if not surpass) Jon.
To Be Continued. . .
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