Bill Rodgers: Running Forever

I expected to be writing a race review for the Cherry Blossom 10 Mile Run.  The truth is, during the race I was so focused on running point-to-point while weaving through a few thousand people, that I didn’t notice much, save for two cherry blossom trees, a circular monument with columns (no idea whom it pays tribute to, though), and a slight gust coming off the Potomac that prompted me to position myself behind the runner best suited to keep the pace while breaking the wind for me.

For those who are considering this as a future race, however, I can say that it was everything it should have been.  It can’t be easy to organize a ten mile race with 17,000 participants, but the director and crew did a tremendous job.  Don’s Johns were abundant, the corral rule was strictly enforced, corral starts were spread apart to alleviate race congestion, the course, I’m sure, was very scenic, the finish chute was effective, and the post-race area was massive (lawn of the Washington Monument).

I was not quite prepared for the amount of people, but I think the enormous field only enhanced the experience.  Each heat of about 2,500 was released three minutes behind the previous heat.  I expected my heat to thin out after a few miles, but if it ever did, it was not until we caught up with the first heat.  I am used to sprinting against two or three runners in the final stretch.  In a race this size, however, about ten people crossed the line every second.

Personally, I felt this was one of my best races.  Not knowing what to expect at this distance (I hadn’t raced anything less than a Half Marathon in close to two years), I was able to coast for eight miles and pick it up for the last two.  There had to be some scientific force at work stemming from a pack that size.  I felt good, but I’m sure the pull of a few thousand people helped to ease the workload.

But I digressed from the highlight of the weekend.

Two days before the race, I found out that Bill Rodgers would be speaking at the expo.  For those unfamiliar with the name, Bill Rodgers is another one of my favorite 70s era runners.  Although he never finished better than 40^th in an Olympic Marathon, he did win Boston (setting the American record twice), New York (and is still the last American-born runner to win it), and of course, the Cherry Blossom 10 Miler four times each.  I haven’t read any books or watched any movies portraying him as a kind and highly intelligent individual (see Frank Shorter in Without Limits or Once a Runner), and he did not receive the cult following that accompanies sports heroes who die young (Steve Prefontaine), but, at 65, Bill Rodgers is alive, and he has a lot of kick left.

My wife and I spent the day before the race driving from Columbus to DC, checking into our hotel, and negotiating the Metro from Arlington.  When we arrived at the expo, Bill Rodgers had completed his fifty minute pre-race talk, and was signing autographs.  It took an hour for the line of about ten families/small groups to dwindle down to just me.

Worth the wait.  I found Bill (first name basis now) to be one of the most genuinely pleasant and um… zestful men I have ever met.  Unlike Frank Shorter, who had needed a good question before he really opened up, Bill appeared to want to get to know everyone in that line.

When I introduced myself, and my wife snapped a quick five pictures, Bill noticed the Army Corps of Engineers shirt I was wearing.  He asked if I was an engineer, and I explained that in fact, my wife is the Corps employee, working as a park ranger.  Well then Bill had to get to know her.  He wanted to know where she worked and what exactly her duties were and what the park had to offer recreation wise…

This was another one of my awestruck moments (I was mostly reveling in the fact that my wife was engaged in a conversation with a runner).  She told him about the trails near the lake, and that she would like to see all of the nearby trails to connect to the Ohio to Erie trail, and Bill listened, with great interest.  Finally, he expressed his pleasure with the idea, noting that parks like this one, which give people a place to run, bike, swim, hike, canoe (yes, he did say, “canoe”)… are essential to the mental and physical health of our nation.  This man’s eyes displayed nothing but passion for the subject.  What I admire most about him now is that even after he’s achieved his glory in athletics, he understands the plight of the common runner.  He appeared to be far more interested in talking about ways to help others enjoy their sport, whatever it may be, than recounting his own personal victories.  It almost seemed like he did not care what races he had won in the 70s, he just wanted to keep running, and help others to do the same.  After a few minutes, he signed my bib, “Let’s run forever!” and my race poster, “Best wishes for a lifetime of smooth running.”

With less than .25 left in the race, I heard spectators cheering for Bill.  I looked through the horde of runners and finally saw him, chugging up the slight incline on the outside of the curve.  With a burst of energy I didn’t know I had, I raced over to congratulate him on a great race.  I thought briefly about running the home stretch with him, but when he spoke, he said with a smile, “I’ll see you at the finish.”  On cloud 9, I glided to the finish line with a tenth mile almost one minute faster than the others.

I waited and found Bill when he crossed the line.  He looked somewhat fatigued, but in good shape for a 65 year old running a 1:18 ten miler.  He remembered me as the husband of the park ranger from Kentucky.  This time, the conversation began with the deceptiveness of the humidity, which had crept up on him during the race.  Then, he recalled some of the great Kentucky runners he had competed against, and that the state has some beautiful trails (must be in the Louisville area), but Iroquois Park (yeah, Louisville area) was always a challenge for him.  We chatted like we were dear old friends for a few minutes while making our way through the chute.  Finally, I wished him good luck in the 5k he was planning to run the following week.  He shook my hand one last time, and told me to enjoy my future running endeavors.  I guess luck doesn’t matter, as long as we enjoy it.