The Start of My Running Story

This post was written for and first appeared on One Foot In Reality.

Since I have returned to Aging Runnah, I have decided to clean-up and re-publish this series, there were a few rough spots, things left out and I thought it would be nice to share this old fart’s story of running over the years – yeah the story of how I became the runner I am today. Not everything has always been peaches and cream when it comes to my running.

If some of you have read this before, that is cool, but for others it tells the story of where I came from – that photo from 1968 – The Wonder Years (Yes, I was the same age as the main character in that TV show) – pretty much says it all.

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But here is the start of the rest of the story.

This is the first post and during this series I plan to tell a few stories from a lifetime of running and give you an idea why I still am running over 40 years later.

They will be my recollections (or at least how I remember them) and honest reflections on parts of my life that others only glimpse, when they saw that “guy” who was out running (mostly by himself).

How long have I been running?

Like most other people I ran ever since I could. I don’t remember a time when I haven’t run here or there or been involved in sports that require running, but it has been over 40 years of pounding the pavement or wandering around on trails.

I never enjoyed running very far when I was younger, what I did best growing up was running fast for short distances in sports like basketball, baseball, soccer, football (nothing organized), school yard races, races at the swim front, tag you are it, hide and seek and all those other games we used to play outside.

You know that era in the Dark Ages, before the day of electronic devices or the Internet. Basically when the adults in your life told you to get your ass outside and don’t come back in until it is time to eat or it got dark out.

The Smallest Guy my Grade

I was always the smallest and one of the youngest guys (thanks to an August birthday), in my class at school in Newport, so my primary survival skill was being able to outrun the bullies (there were more than a couple in our little town) both my own bigger classmates and the “older” kids (either before or after school – the gauntlet over by the Corner Store). This meant that I needed to be able to run really fast, but only for relatively short distances, once you got by the gauntlet, the older kids didn’t try to run after you very far, especially if there was easier pickings behind you – just the way it was back then. I didn’t get caught very often, but when I did, it made me remember why I needed to run faster.

Up until my 8th grade summer I was always the 2nd or 3rd fastest guy in my class even though I was usually what seemed like a foot shorter than everyone else. However, I could never beat one guy and after a while it became a mental thing. I “knew” that I couldn’t beat him and didn’t for the longest time any time there was a race or time to run fast against him, he always would beat me and then rub it in.

Things start to change

Swim Front Race

One day down at the Newport Swim front (where you could find me about 80% of the time during the summer) there a bunch of us hanging around being typical 12 or 13-year-old jerks and he was getting on me pretty bad (as usual) about being so much smaller than him, never as good as he was – in well you name the sport, etc. He was your classic local “jock jerk” type that was great at everything, handsome as hell, came from a “good family” and everyone thought he was great. He was one of the star athletes in our school and I was just one of the lesser supporting role players, who would never amount to a piss hole in the snow, according to some coaches and other players.

That day I got fed up with his “witty” remarks and challenged him to a race from the Legion Hall steps to the life guard stand – about 50 yards. One of those “boy” challenges with all the words and chest bumping that go along with it. He sarcastically said “I don’t know why you want to even bother Shaw, you know that I will kick your ass – again!” Along with a lot of other jeering and “fun” comments from our “friends”. After about 5 minutes of this abuse and me not backing down from him, he agreed to the race.

The Race

Everyone at the beach was hooting and hollering. They cleared all the people out-of-the-way and one of the “girls” started us. For me it was one of those “Chariots of Fire” moments and yes I beat him by about 5 yards – he had underestimated me and how fast I was. He was all blustery and demanded a re-match saying that he wasn’t ready when the girl said “go” and that he just let me win. After a lot of banter back and forth we agreed to make it a best 2 out of 3. He won the next race, but barely. I remember his words pretty clearly “See Shaw, I can beat you anytime I want too!”

The third and last race was even more hotly contested between us going back and forth until the end and as much as I want to say that I won – I didn’t.

He beat me by about a yard, but I was no longer intimidated by him when we ran (he still intimidated me otherwise and would for many years after that for other reasons). Even though he beat me 2 of 3 races that day, beating him just that once let me know I could do it again. However, he did treat me a little differently and didn’t pick on me nearly as much after that.

It was a Milestone

This is the first real race that I remember actually winning at much of anything and it was an important running milestone in my life.

After that day we swapped off who would win when we were in the same heats in track or doing wind sprints in the sports that we did together, until our Junior year in high school – after which he never beat me again.

It is funny that a simple thing like a small race at the swim front, turned out to be a big deal in my life and is one of those things that I will never forget. That one little race proved to me that I could compete against other guys in my class and hold my own with the best of them. I know that back then I had a real complex about being smaller than almost everyone else and never being quite good enough compared to the other guys in my class by either the coaches or even myself back then.

Looking back, I can’t believe the amount of abuse (physical and mental) I took from those guys simply because I really wanted and believed that I should be part of their group – the jocks. The only problem was that I really didn’t fit their group and the more I tried the worse the abuse from them became, especially as we got older.

Running during this time was more about survival (at least it seemed that way on some days) or having a skill that some of them couldn’t do as well as I could. It was about the only thing I had to build my self-confidence, since I was a very average student and not a very gifted athlete in the sports that were available to us before high school.

There were a lot of other things going on in my life during this time, that are not as much fun to remember, but are a part of my past and help make me who I am today. All I can say is that running was an important part of my life even back then.

Do you have a moment or race in your life that other people have forgotten about, but that means a lot to you and who you have become?

2 thoughts on “The Start of My Running Story

  1. I miss those ‘dark ages’ when you actually had to go out to play. These days my kids are glued to their electronic devices and sadly sometimes I am too but at least I still go out and run 6 days a week which is actually strange cos I wasn’t a sporty like kid when I was young. I used to spend my times reading books and comics mostly and had to be forced to go out and play with my cousins … LOL!

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    • Isn’t it funny how things change sometimes, I was a jock wanna be growing up, but I never fit in with the “cool crowd” and was more comfortable getting lost in my comic book or fantasy adventure novels. If I wasn’t at practice, the librarian could usually be counted on to send me home when that well-placed party-line phone call came in to get me home for supper. Small-town life was actually pretty good. I think with all the electronics, we have lost something or at least the newer generations will never have the experiences we did. For better or worse, it remains to be seen, but the obesity rates seem to say a lot about the direction they are headed.

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