So I'm Off by a Year

A few weeks ago I started waxing nostalgic for a trip home to run the oldest road race in Kansas.  This will mark the 41st year of the Lake Atwood 10 mile.  I thought I first ran the race in 1972 but I was off by a year.  I ran another 10 mile road race, my first in fact.

I had told my friend Chris Ronan 2012 would mark the 40th anniversary of my first run at Atwood.  I was off by a year.  In 1972 when I was 16 I traveled to to La Crosse, Kansas to run my first 10 mile race.  My friend, Greg Morgenson, had invited me to join him for the first year for this race in a tiny town in West Central Kansas.  La Crosse was to be the first jewel of a 10 mile triple crown.  Races in Atwood and Phillipsburg were to follow later in the summer.

I don't remember much about the race.  It was a simple out and back course, much of it on gravel roads.  It was damned hot too.  It was the first time I ever saw Jim Hershberger, a multi-million who was a great masters runner who was pretty flamboyant.  I remember at the start of the race some joker was running in spikes.  Given that the first half mile or so was on asphalt I can only imagine how much that must have hurt.

Greg ran really well and won an award.  I ran somewhere in the 65 minute range and finished just outside the top 10.  Hershberger came up to me after the race with some advice.  He told me to stop running up on my toes.  My junior high coach had forced me to become a toe runner earlier in the year.  It would take me another six months or so to take Hershberger's advice.

Anyway I didn't get to go to the other races in the 10 mile triple crown that year.  My mother wasn't too keen on spending the money for anymore three hour plus road trips to Western Kansas.   The races in La Crosse and Phillipsburg quickly faded away, but Atwood would endure.  It survived mainly because it was kept alive by a former Jayhawk distance runner, Bob Creighton.  It survives to this day even though Creighton passed away 9 years ago.

My first trip to Atwood would take place the following year.  The first of many adventures to this historic race.

I made that journey in 1973, the summer before my senior year in high school.  I was in really good shape.  I made the drive with Bob Silipigni, an old high school teammate.

It was late July and hotter than the dickens.  The race was 8 laps around the lake.  Later when Creighton had the pancake flat course certified it turned out his course was about 600 yards short.

I remember going out way too hard in that race.  I was up in the top 10 for the first 5 miles before I started a slow fade.  I'm pretty sure I went through the first 5 in about 28:30.  I ended up running 60:10 finishing back in 15th place.  I was 3rd in my age group good enough for a nice plaque.  The only age group award I ever won there. Creighton always had different prices finisher awards aside from the ordinary t-shirt.  That year it was a coffee mug.  I remember another year it was a stocking cap. 

If you look at the finisher results from the first 15 years or so of this year you could see it was a who's who of top distance runners from Kansas and Colorado.  Some great K.U. runners made the trip to Atwood.  Kent McDonald, George Mason, Jon Callen, Bob Luder and Ted Crank all ran Atwood, but only 2, Tim Tays and Tim Gundy ever won it.  The Colorado guys, usually Jon Hunsaker or Jon Sinclair pretty much dominated it. 

I have too many Lake Atwood memories for just one blog.  I've run it 8 times, more than any other road race in my life. One of those trips nearly included a night in jail.  But that story will have to wait.

Spring Track and Field Fever

I stumbled on over to the old Dyestat website which ESPN destroyed re-branding it RISE.  It's a ghost town.  Three years ago Dyestat was the place to go and stay on top of high school track and field.  ESPN bought it and decided it needed a makeover and made it unreadable while making the amazing message boards unpalatable.  It's sad because I used to be able to tell you just about anything about the current state of high school track.  But right now except for Edward Cheserek, an outstanding Kenyan import running in New Jersey, I don't know much.

But I am staying on top of the college and pro scene and with the Olympics looming large in August it is shaping up to be an incredible year.  Over the weekend I watched the webcast of the great Payton Jordan meet at Stanford.  It's an event I had the chance to watch in person last year.  This year's showing was just as amazing and it produced one major surprise at 5000 meters.

The U.S. men's Olympic Trial races at 5000 and 1500 meters are going to be breathtaking.  First let's look at the 1500.  There are a half dozen men who could make the squad.  Leo Manzano showed great form at the Penn Relays running down the aging Bernard Lagat during the Distance Medley Relay.  Andrew Wheating is coming off an injury plagued 2011 but in my mind has the most pure talent in the event and should be a factor.

But the odds on favorite is World Championship bronze medalist Matthew Centrowitz.  He has the kind of closing speed that's needed to be a factor at the Olympics.  Centrowitz skipped his senior year at Oregon just to prepare for this moment.

On the outside looking in could be 2008 Olympian Lopez Lomong.  But at the Jordan meet Lomong showed he could be a real threat at 5000.  And then there's Alan Webb.  He was the most promising American miler since Jim Ryun who fell off the face of the earth after setting the American record in the mile in 2007.  Perennial 1500 threat Bernard Lagat says he's sticking with the 5000 leaving David Torrence and collegian Miles Batty as two more darkhorses.

The 5000 lost a great one this week when Chris Solinsky said injuries would end his year before it even started.  But with the great Lagat a virtual lock that really leaves only 2 spots up for grabs.  I'd say three men will be battling for those slots.

I've already mention Lopez Lomong and despite a completely boneheaded move at Payton Jordan won a stunning 5000 at Stanford.  Clicking on the video is well worth the watch.  Then there's American 10000 record holder Galen Rupp who plans to try the Olympic double.  There aren't many who can match him in the U.S.A. in the closing stages of any race.

That means the odd man out is sub 13 performer Matt Tegenkamp.  He's an Olympic veteran who very nearly grabbed a medal at the 2007 World Championships.  Matt's 30 years of age and on the downside of a distinguished career.

Of course the odds are someone I haven't mentioned will sneak in and grab a spot at either 1500 or 5000.  We've got a couple of great U.S. meets in Eugene and New York City before the Trials get underway in late June.  What I wouldn't give to have 10 days to blow at Hayward Stadium watching the best track meet in the world, likely better than what the fans will see in August at the 2012 London Olympic Games.

Bathroom Emergency

This post is not for the weak of heart or stomach for that matter.  Runners will know well of what I write about here.  Few things are worse than being out on a run when nature calls.  It's the worst, especially if you're out in the middle of the country. 

This last week I've had a couple of "issues" while out on runs.  It had been a long, long time, at least three or four years since this problem had presented itself to me.  Last week I was 3 miles into a 6 mile run when I knew I needed a bathroom.  No problem, I had a Hess station just a quarter mile away.  I get to the door at 6 p.m. and the door is locked.  The attendant is mopping the floor and no intention of letting this poor soul in to use the facilities.  I ducked around back and found a tree and let loose.  It wasn't fun running the last 3 miles home.

Tonight I was about 1.5 miles into a 6 mile run when I felt the urge again, but this time I was just a half mile from the house.  I made it home with nary a problem.  But it got me to thinking about my history with bathroom incidents.

I think the first time "it" happened was out on a 13 mile run back in the early 80's.  I was about 1.5 miles west of Wells Overlook south of Lawrence when I realized I had to go and go right now.  I was out on a lonely gravel road so privacy wasn't a problem.  I desperately ran along looking for some paper.  I think I found a scrap before I had to stop.

There was another late night run in Roeland Park also in the early 80's where I ended up in some hedges.  But "it" really didn't become a problem until I was well into my 40's.  I've jumped behind a dirt pile or behind some bushes on 3 or 4 occasions. 

But the worst are the too late bathroom pit stops.  On at least 3 I didn't make it to the toilet.  Thank God the bathroom floor is tile!

 "It" has only twice once during a race.  The first time was my junior year in high school where I could swear I was going to crap my shorts during the 2 mile at Regional.  I was squeezing my butt checks the last 5 laps and finished 4th missing State by one place.  It was a heartbreaking disappointment, although I had qualified earlier in the mile.

The other time "it" happened was just before mile 10 at the 1989 St. George Marathon I could feel a problem coming on.  I spotted a lone porta-potty right at 10 and thank goodness it was empty.  I spent a full minute in there taking care of my problem and much to my surprise I flew out the door and right back into a good pace.  In fact I felt rather refreshed after the short break and went on to run an unexpected PR.  The experience was enough t encourage me to train harder and come back the next year to break my PR by another 8 minutes. 

Release the Humidity

Life in South Florida means coping with humidity.  You get three to four months of relief from December to the end of March.  Sometimes you don't even make it through March.  But this Spring has been exceptional.  We've enjoyed incredibly dry conditions.  The weather has been down right delightful.

That is until today.  Today started out warm, almost hot.  Slowly but surely this week the temperatures have been rising but the lack of humidity has been shocking.  But then this afternoon the clouds began to build and by 4 p.m. the sound of thunder could be heard rumbling in the distance.

I was inside when I heard the deluge hit.  The poor Czarina was outside finishing up her yard work.  She escaped only semi-soaked.  It rained real hard as it always seems to do when it does rain here, but it only last for about 15 minutes.

By the time I decided to head out the door for a run the rain was down to a mere drizzle and boy was it humid at 5 p.m.  I went for a 6 mile run while the Czarina settled for 5.  About 2 miles in or so the sun decided to make an appearance making it a double whammy of heat and humidity.

The run provided a reminder of what outdoor exercise will bring over the next six months.  It's going to be hot, nasty and humid.  Running won't be much fun.  By about July I'll be looking forward to a nice tropical storm to bring down the temperatures.

Return of the Czarina

The prime road racing season is nearly at an end in Southwest Florida.  For much of it, the Czarina has been laying low.  She did give it a go at a 10K last December but that's been it.

Her complaints have been numerous.  The Czarina can't breathe, she's too fat, her legs are too tired, you get the idea.  I didn't push her.  I could tell she was struggling getting into what she deemed reasonable shape.  Her post-marathon foot problems from 2010 had left her short on training.  But about a month ago I could see that was beginning to come around.

So when I went to register on Friday for Saturday's 5K I signed her up.  The Czarina couldn't figure out why there were two race bibs in the goody bag when she got home from work and then it quickly dawned on her the evil that I had wrought.  The Czarina complained good-naturedly but I could tell deep down inside she wanted to give it a go.

Normally by mid-April the humidity has set in but we were greeted by 70 degree weather and just a hint of humidity when we arrived at a church where the race was to start.  I was hoping to crack 22 minutes and I think the Czarina was just hoping to run 9 minute miles.

The gun went off and I tried to hold myself back.  I had raced out too quickly at the last 5K but much to my surprise I hit the mile in 7:03.  I felt good but I could tell I was going into a slow fade.  I didn't feel fresh and had no snap in my stride.

I saw the Czarina about 100 yards past the turnaround and she yelled encouragement to me which told me she wasn't hurting too bad.  I yelled back and worked to try and reel a trio of runners about 20 yards ahead of me.  My legs were dead with a half mile to go and when I saw the clock from about a half block away I knew I wasn't anywhere close to the time I wanted and eased my way to the finish in 22:22.

Once across the line and went back to look for the Czarina.  When she's in good shape she's only 3 minutes behind me.  Today she was less than 5 minutes behind me running under 9 minute miles and when all was said and done she had won her age group in 26:56.  I had finished 2nd in mine.  The Czarina was pretty pleased with herself and when all is said and done I think this will inspire her to do more racing next winter.  She quickly pointed out when we got home that her sex/age graded time was better than mine.  I inadvertently showed what I thought of that in this picture.

Strangers Stopping Strangers

It was a day and night filled with emotion.  One of my favorite singer/musicians Levon Helm passed away after a long battle with cancer.  Helm was the backbone of one of the seminal bands of the late 1960's, "The Band."  If there was a group out there that I always wanted to see but never got to it was "The Band."

Helm voiced his bitterness over the group's disintegration, forced mainly but its lead guitar player and leading songwriter Robbie Robertson.  Levon went on to try his hand at acting and then took part in a reconstituted version of "The Band" minus Robertson.  It too slowly fell apart, first when pianist Richard Manuel committed suicide, and then with the drug-induced death of Rick Danko.

Go watch Martin Scorcese's "The Last Waltz."  It chronicles "The Band's" last performance and is simply the best concert movie ever made.  The group cranks out one gem after another and the interviews with the various members of the group are telling.  I can still remember going to see the movie on a hot August night in 1978 in a now non-existent movie theater in Kansas City.

So with this in my heart I went to see "The Grateful Dead" in a special one night off cinematic showing of a 1989 concert they performed at Alpine Valley.  I was lucky enough to see the Dead play five shows there in 1986 and 1987.  I took the Czarina with me so she could experience what I had come to love so much.  It was an awesome concert from the opening song "Touch of Grey" to the closing number, a cover of Bob Dylan's "The Mighty Quinn."

The Czarina and I could swear we could smell the hint of marijuana during the concerts incredible second set.  The Dead opened with "Sugar Magnolia" rifting into "Scarlet Begonias."  The second set ended with a great "Throwing Stones" which slammed into a surprising "Sunshine Daydream" making for a perfect wrap from the opener.  Even though it was just a movie it was one of the best performances I had ever seen (out of 16 live shows) by the band.

The movie brought back a flood of memories and sadness knowing that Jerry Garcia and Brent Mydland are both gone much too soon.  But I fondly thought back to the 1987 shows when we stayed in the same hotel as the band in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin.  I remember Dead stage manager Steve Parrish rolling into my friend Joe Gauthier's room holding Jerry's beautiful tiger guitar.  Steve kept a close watch on me as I examined the gorgeous instrument.

It was on this trip when a classic concert memory occurred.  Joe had brought two Dead neophytes to the show from his home in Iowa Falls.  The two idiots dropped acid right before the start of the first show and when Jerry hit his first power chord the bozos freaked out racing off, out of the venue into the deep woods which surrounded it.  Poor Joe and his wife Bev spent half the night looking for them.  A deputy found them at dawn walking down a country road half-naked.  Needless to say the goofballs were sent packing.

It's not surprising that both "The Grateful Dead" and "The Band" shared enduring relationships with the great Bob Dylan.  "The Band" served as Dylan's backup band off and on for a decade.  Dylan played with the Dead in the 1980's and Jerry and the boys always covered a Dylan tune throughout their last two decades of performing.  The world of music is a much poorer place this week with Levon's passing and that of Dick Clark.  It's all part of the long strange trip that is life.

Working 4 You

1998 represented something of a personal roller coaster.  Work was great.  I was professionally at the top of my game and the station was one of the most successful FOX affiliates in the country.  We were successful despite a change in station leadership.

Stan Knott had come on board as our GM.  The first thing he did was piss off the reporters and photographers which resulted in the photographers unionizing and the reporters just falling short in their efforts to follow suit.  I think it stands as the only time that a FOX owned and operated station had a group form a union.  Stan also got rid of the best reporters to ever grace the Kansas City television market.  He refused to renew Dave Helling's contract.  It was a move to save money and I don't fault Stan for doing what he thought was in the best interest in the station financially.

But also rained on my parade.  Part of my deal with the station was that I could work 4 days a week while going to grad school.  I took a cut in pay to do that and it was a verbal agreement when I came back to work in 1995.  When Stan arrived he put a halt to that making school and work an almost impossible combination.

But it was on the home front that life got difficult.  First my Uncle Bob had surgery to remove part of a cancerous lung in June.  Shortly after that my mother who had lost a leg to cancer in the mid-1980's was told she had lung cancer.  Frances was a lifelong smoker.  The prognosis wasn't good.

This was all happening along with the release of my documentary about Kansas miler Jim Ryun.  It was well received in the running community and praised by Track and Field News.  I should have been on top of the world but my mother was dying from cancer.

Over the course of five long months my mother slowly deteriorated.  I was lucky that she was just a 40 minute drive away and treasured our times together.  Early Sunday November 22nd my little sister, a registered nurse, who was caring for mom called in full frantic.  I thought it was the end but Mary exclaimed that she simply needed a break because mom was making her crazy.  I raced to Lawrence to offer some relief.

When I walked in the house on Emerald Drive I saw my Aunt Ann with a look on her face that told me everything.  Next came Mary walking in from mom's bedroom and I knew.  It was a long day.  Frances was hanging in there but her color was terrible and her breathing was labored.  My brother-in-law Bob and oldest sister Dianne arrived.  My other sister Karen and her husband Keith were in Tennessee.  They had said their goodbyes a few weeks before and we're waiting in Clarksville for the inevitable.

At one point sometime just after noon mom stopped breathing and turned blue.  But slowly she came back.  It was agonizing.  She was in complete misery and I said a prayer asking God to ease her pain and take her to a better place.  I felt guilty for that prayer but I didn't know what else to do.

Ann, Mary and Dianne were in my mother's bedroom when I walked in about mid-afternoon and she had suddenly stopped breathing again.  Slowly she turned blue and this time there would be no going back.  We waited 5, 10, 15 minutes.  Dianne broke the tension asking a great question, "I wonder who she'll choose?"  She meant would Frances choose her first husband Russell Rinkenbaugh, our father, or Mary's father, Leland Longhofer, when they met in heaven.  We also snickered.  I'm betting on Leland.  I never knew my father, but I knew Leland, who had died the year before.  He was a smooth customer.

The experience was surreal but in the end it made me value more than I ever did in my self-centered adult wife.  It brought me closer to my sisters and especially to Mary, who had shown unbelievable strength and courage in handling my mother's illness on a daily basis for nearly 3 months.  It brought me closer to my brother-in-law Bob, who showed me a gentle side that he had kept well hidden for 25 years.

I remember the next day we went and selected a casket and I headed up to Rim Rock and the NCAA cross country championship.  I saw my friends like John Broholm and Steve Riley who both mean the world to me.  I saw Adam Goucher of Colorado earn a deserved national title on a brilliant fall afternoon in the beautiful hills north of Lawrence.  Bob Timmons had built a cathedral to cross country that deserves to host another national meet someday.

I'll never forget the funeral and most importantly the people who came.  Friends came that I never expected to see like Alice Edwards and her mother.  I remember playing guitar with my cousin Mike back at my mom's house after the ceremony.  For me it was like getting to play catch with Sandy Koufax.

But my mom was a great woman.  She lived by the golden rule.  Frances Longhofer loved unconditionally.  She had a big heart and loved her life and friends.  She didn't take any crap from anyone.  She was a feminist while hating everything that word stood for.  I wish I could be like her and I miss her everyday because she challenged me to be more than I ever thought I could be and put up with an endless amount of heartache from her children that no mother should ever have to endure.

It was a horrid end to 1998.  Just three weeks later my mother's older sister, Virginia, died from cancer.  Her death came as a complete shock.  Aunt Virginia had gone to have a hysterectomy.  When the surgeon opened her, he found she was full of cancer.  She died the next day.  It was heartbreaking.

1998 was saved to some extend by my best friend Mike Bloemker and his wonderful parents Gerald and Jan.  We all went to Las Vegas together in the last week of December.  Mike and I had a five day adventure fest.  Gerald and Jan treated me like a prince.  But the roller coaster rider was far from over.