FIRST EXPERIENCES

               Have you noticed how some people wince when running is mentioned? Where do they get such an attitude? Well, the chances are they had negative first experiences and don't care to repeat them. First experiences are extremely important. Let's take racing, for example, for racing is extremely demanding and intense running. If the all-out effort isn't somehow rewarded, the experience won't be repeated. The reward could be winning, setting personal records or just a feeling of achievement. Or racing may provide a deep psychological gratification not decipherable without years of analysis. Let me use my own first experiences in racing as examples.

            I was the fastest kid in grade school. All right, so it was a small school in a town of 500, but when we had organized races, I always won. Oh, there was Raymond Rademacher, a wiry little nerd from a farm outside of town, who could come pretty close. Raymond excelled at really fast starts. When the "go" was shouted he'd get out front by five yards, but I always caught him by the finish. Every time. Besides, on about a third of his starts Raymond would burst out and then veer off and stop as if the effort of starting was all his body could take. The coach, however, was intrigued with Raymond's fast starts and worked hard on perfecting his racing. But no matter what he did, I always won.

            Late in the spring, we had a meet with five nearby towns and I was eagerly looking forward to testing new opponents. About 10 minutes before the race, the coach put Raymond in my place and shifted me to the long jump where I managed to get a participation ribbon. Well, Raymond got the jump on the entire field and then veered off, just as he'd done so often in practice. The whole episode soured my outlook on track and field.

            My next races came in high school physical education classes (now in a big city of 25,000) where in the spring we'd run 50- and 100-yard dashes on the football field. I almost always won and it was fun showing football and basketball jocks where they ranked in running races. You'd think a coach would suggest going out for track or cross country, but our coach only seemed concerned about discipline and whenever the slightest thing went wrong he'd have us running laps around the track as punishment. The racing was fun, but the total experience didn't endear me to running or to coaches.

            Almost 30 years lapsed before my next race. I had been skipping rope for three months and extolling the virtues of this exercise to Rick and Jill, two friends at work. They countered by talking up running and urged me to try a three-mile fun run at Mission Bay. It didn't interest me. They kept trying and I kept putting them off. Well, that's OK," commented Jill, "You probably couldn't run three miles anyway."

            Two days later, I was at the starting line wearing cut-off jeans and old leather tennis shoes and without benefit of a single training run. When the gun sounded, Rick ran on ahead while Jill ran along with me to see that I was all right. After a little while we passed by a messy white blotch and a man said "seven-twenty." Jill muttered, "I don't believe this!"

            About five minutes later I was doubled over with an excruciating side ache and Jill was trying to keep me moving to get rid of it. Somehow, she kept me walking and running even though my inclination was to stop and throw up.

            "It's only a little farther," she repeatedly assured through what seemed like an incredibly long distance. Other runners gliding by were barely noticed through my sweat-seared eyes.

            As we finally approached the finish banner, Jill muttered "Oh no!" With a distraught voice she urged me to speed up, but my weary legs just wouldn't respond. "Don't let those racewalkers pass you!" she pleaded. Alas, all three pranced by right before the finish line. Afterward, Jill walked me around and warned me not to sit down because I might pass out.

            Now that was a fun experience! I immediately looked forward to the next one. And I've been racing ever since.

            Well, this month the Track Club has two summer three-mile races and I'm in charge of the second. It's my first time as race director, but I've got some pretty good helpers. Join us and make it a good experience worthy of repeating.

            And eat your heart out Raymond Rademacher, wherever you are.

July 1991

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