The Returning Runner

Act 1 - Disaster

The grass was soft under my feet as I warmed up for my first collegiate cross-country meet. My knees lifted effortlessly for the warm-up jog. Our competition was warming up too. A three-way meet hosted by my team, the University of Arizona. My unbridled excitement was further fueled by the nervous banter of my teammates as well as the nearby chatter of the prancing competition.

But there it was, in front of me, a steeplechase barrier. I was a gangling, still sprouting, spaz – there was no other way to put it. My sophomore year of high school I was a mere 5’6”. By my senior year I was 6’2” and by the end of my first year of college, nearly 6’5”. I simply didn’t know where the various components of my body were all the time. Talking with teammates the evening before and learning of the planned steeplechase barrier, I was afraid. They could see it too. A steeplechase barrier isn’t like a flimsy track hurdle that readily tips when struck but rather a firmly fixed 5”x5” beam, 36” high. Being one of the tallest on the team (only second to future sub-4 miler Paul Becklund), I should have had an advantage, but any perceived advantage was overwhelmed by my extraordinary clumsiness. I had to clear it at least once in warm-up before the race. It seemed impossibly high as I approached – any chance I had of clearing it was rendered nil by my terror. I attempted to completely clear it as I had seen track runners clear a hurdle – only I didn’t. My right foot caught the barrier, spinning a quarter-way around I came down on the inside of my right knee. I lay sprawled on the grass in agony. First to come to my aid was teammate Rick Jones who promptly rushed to tell Coach Murray of my catastrophe.

Walk it off…That’s what you do. Walk it off…I did what every college athlete does. I regained some measure of mobility. Then, the star of the team, Thom Hunt, showed me the proper way to “roll” over the barrier while landing and then pushing off the barrier with the lead foot. That was better. I managed to limp through the course. By that evening my right knee had swollen to the size of a football. Seriously, the size of a football. I’m not kidding. Little did I know that I would never run as fast again as I had run my senior year of high school. I continued some weak attempts at a come-back, including a junior college stint back home in San Diego. Posterior lateral ligament surgery eventually stabilized my knee but the limp was there forever. At least the forever that lasted until I was 48 - the next 30 years…To be fair to UofA, my trajectory to stardom hadn’t been solely crushed by inadequate instruction in steeplechase barrier etiquette. Not your fault Coach Murray! I had already veered off the path to track and field stardom – I somehow held to the belief that drinking 10 beers in a night and eating 20 pieces of pizza was proper track-star fair. 18-year boys are idiots. Don’t forget that.

Now for the interlude. Next week, the beginnings of the second act…

“I just wanna go fast” – Ricky Bobby, 2006

Patrick Henry 1975 Varsity Cross Country pictured above from left: Rick Papworth (I think - cut off), Mark Gookin, Marshall Spaulding, Sean Sweeney, Steve Byron, Thom Hunt, Jeff Anderson, Steve McGirr