Running Free

My first official pair of running shoes cost $5.  They weren’t one of the top brands at the time—Nike or Onitsuka Tiger were the ones costing the big bucks—but they were honest-to-goodness running shoes.  I bought them at Marty Liquori’s original Athletic Attic store in Gainesville, Florida, wearing them for the first time…I couldn’t possibly have been more excited, especially after running my first 20 or 30 miles in a pair of Stan Smith tennis shoes. 

My first official race entry fee—Leonardo’s Lap, a five-mile event sponsored by a local pizza parlor in Gainesville—cost $3.  There was pizza and beer at the finish line and a really cool race T-shirt that I proudly wore for many, many years.  The fact that I still remember my finishing time (36:32 if you’re interested) should indicate how special crossing that first finishing line meant to me. 

The first time I drank Gatorade I paid nine cents.  It came in a 32-ounce glass bottle and was available in two flavors: Lemon-lime and orange.  Drinking Gatorade made me feel like an athlete.  Not just an athlete, but a runner.    

The year was 1978.   Running was fun.  Running was simple.  And without a doubt, running was inexpensive.  The most expensive running item at the time was a lifetime subscription to Runner’s World that could be purchased for $200 which was a small fortune at that time, especially for a newlywed graduate teaching assistant.  

Times have changed and boy-oh-boy how the cost of running has changed. 

Let me start with a $169 pair of running shoes that the manufacturer would have you believe makes you ‘fly.’  If you believe what a manufacturer will tell you—that running shoes should be retired every 500 miles or so—every three miles you run in those $169 shoes will cost you $1, thus making a car or truck a more economical mode of transportation than running.  (By the way, it’s not uncommon for me to put 2,000 miles on a single pair of shoes. I’ve never been one to listen to the so-called experts, which may explain why Runner’s World never kept my interest.) 

Then there’s the high profile marathons held in the major cities that will set you back several hundred dollars just for a spot on the starting line.  Beyond that the likelihood you’ll need an airline ticket (have you priced airline tickets lately?), lodging (some of you may have noticed how local hotels raise their rates when runners come to town) and any other incidentals (dining, memorabilia at the marathon expo, post-race celebratory drinks) you’ll be inclined to spend your hard-earned dollars on.  If experience has taught me anything, it’s that runners in general have a real propensity to be loose with the purse strings when they’re caught up in the atmosphere of a major race). 

I’ve seen running shorts that cost as much as a pair of Nike or Onitsuka Tigers used to cost.  Actually, it’s more like three times as much.  Sometimes four. 

Don’t get me wrong.  If you’re comfortable spending that much money on running shoes, running attire and race entry fees--AND if you can afford it, then more power to you.  I can’t tell you that I didn’t spend a pretty penny on the like myself over the years, but I will tell you the time has come for the madness to stop: My running and my wallet need to come to an understanding.

I buy last year’s running shoes when the shelves are cleared off to make room for this year’s models so last years’ are sold at rock-bottom prices.  I’m very selective in the races I run and as a general rule of thumb I stick to the low-key races that offer affordable entry fees, volunteers that make you feel appreciated and the personal satisfaction of feeling like I’m more than just a (bib) number.  I wear running shorts until the elastic around the waist band begins stretching out instead of pulling in.    

I don’t need shoes that make me feel like I can fly.  I refuse to spend money on an entry fee that could otherwise be spent on groceries that could feed my family for several weeks (yes—weeks).  I don’t care if the shorts I’m wearing were worn for the first time a decade ago. 

Don’t fall prey to following the masses.  Do what YOU want to do.  There is no one you need to impress other than yourself.   Don’t buy the latest, greatest pair of running shoes because everyone else is buying them. New shoes won’t make you run any faster than your old shoes, let alone fly.  Don’t feel obligated to spend a small fortune to run an event simply because ‘that’s what all the cool kids are doing.’  Be your own person, because after all that’s a large part of what makes you a runner. 

Running isn’t about wearing the most expensive shoes, the latest attire or the trendiest gadget (does anyone really believe a device can tell you how many calories you burned???).  Running isn’t about spending several thousand dollars to run ‘the’ race…and ‘the’ race after that and ‘the’ race after that.   Running isn’t all about spending money.  

Rather, running is all about freedom.  All you need is a comfortable pair of running shoes, modest attire suitable for the conditions and a wide-open country road or secluded trail where you can run free.  The best thing about freedom is—surprise!--It’s free.  Is this a great country or what?    

Free of the desk where you spend more than 40 hours a week.  Free from the stress that consumes the majority of your every waking hour.  Free from traffic, telemarketers and television.  Free from everything you want—and need to be free of. 

I’ll admit I’ve spent my fair share of money on my running habit over the years.  I’m now at the point in life where the most rewarding runs are those that begin in my driveway and end at my mailbox.  When I have the opportunity to spend some time in my favorite places I always make time to run some of my favorite routes while I’m there.  The shaded and swampy Hawthorne Trail in Gainesville, Florida.  The rolling country roads through the magnificent horse farms of Kentucky.  The endless sand-covered asphalt trails along the Atlantic Ocean in Virginia Beach.  Just because there isn’t someone waiting for me at the end to drape a medal around my neck doesn’t mean it wasn’t an amazing experience, because it most certainly was.

Every single one of my runs is rewarding because all of them end exactly the same, and that’s what keeps me coming back for more.

I get to cross the finish line.  And it doesn’t cost me a cent.    

  

Al Barker and I formed the Darkside Running Club in 2002.

One of our objectives was to give back to the running community.

Another was to return every cent collected through membership dues, entry fees

 and the like back to the runners.

We’re proud to say we’ve held true to those objectives,

and will continue to do so in the years ahead.    

For a lifetime membership application to the Darkside Running Club,

Visit our website at www.darksiderunningc.lub.com

Barter System

‘G-Pa, hold out your hand.  I’ve got a sur-PRIZE for you.’

That can only mean one thing.  Krischan is about to place a Hot Tamale—or as he calls it a ‘hot kamale’—in my hand.  If you’re not familiar with Hot Tamales, think of them as cinnamon-flavored Mike and Ike’s and know that they are a favorite of Krischan and I.  Now understand that a Hot Tamale held tightly in a human hand for anything more than a few seconds causes it to begin melting, so by the time the ‘surprise’ is in my hand it’s warm, gooey and turns the palm of my hand bright red.  Then again, it’s one of my favorites so I normally eat it without any fuss.

But this time I noticed Krischan didn’t have any Hot Tamales in his other hand for himself.  He also didn’t stick around to watch me eat the Hot Tamale; instead he wandered off into the kitchen.  I heard him going into the kitchen pantry where all of the candy in the house is stored.  I gave him a minute or so before checking on him and found him on the couch—opening five pieces of my absolute favorite candy, something Krischan is well aware of---Kraft Caramels.  Judging by the clandestine manner in which he snuck off into the kitchen once I had my Hot Tamale in hand, the caramels were apparently now his absolute favorite candy as well.  I found it intriguing how he ‘bought me off’ with a Hot Tamale and went after the caramels for himself.

But it didn’t surprise me.  The boy has shown me time and time again what a clever and calculating mind he has.  You can practically see a frantic mouse running on the wheel inside his head when he’s thinking (unless he’s watching television or playing on the iPad because then it’s pretty clear the wheel is abandoned).   Over the years I’ve learned to cope, compensate and circumvent some of Krischan’s more—I’ll say this as gently as I can—‘undesirable’ behaviors.        

For example there are several things nearly impossible to get him to do if he’s not on the same page.  For example:

·      If I want him to take a bath because he’s beginning to smell like the wet towel I left in my gym locker in 11^th grade, I’ll have to offer something up.  What I’ve found works best is taking him with me to the grocery store and letting him get one of the $1 rubber animals (his favorites include sharks, dolphins, dinosaurs and giant bugs).  That way I can use the animal later as incentive to take a bath because he LOVES to play in the tub with his toys—especially the new ones because that way he can introduce everyone to one another.

·      If I want him to play outside (when the television and/or iPad is the reason he wants to stay Inside because otherwise he LOVES being outside) I’ll have to convince him I’ve seen ‘something moving’ in the woods behind the house and that it needs our attention immediately.  It’s not long before we both have our foam rubber swords in hand and are heading out towards the trees so we can keep the residents of the subdivision safe.  Of course buying him a new foam rubber sword seems to work quite well also.

·      If I want him to play inside (when there’s inclement weather, when I’m exhausted because he and I spent the entire day in the woods hunting moving things) I’ll have to sweeten the deal by offering him chocolate milk, blueberries or Kraft caramels (formerly Hot Tamales).  Offering to watch an animated movie seems to work, too (favorites include Despicable Me, Wreck It Ralph and all of the different flavors of Madagascar). 

·      If I need to run an errand in the car and Krischan doesn’t want to go, I have found there’s a good chance he’ll change his mind if I promise to drive by a new house I saw that appears to be haunted, stop to feed carrots or apples to the horses along the highway or go to McDonald’s for a Happy Meal.

As for the trip to McDonald’s, it’s not really the Happy Meal he’s after.  It’s the toy inside.  That and the in-restaurant playground.

For a REAL challenge, try and get Krischan to leave a McDonald’s playground.  You know, the ones with the bouncy cage that smell like that wet towel I mentioned earlier.  It’s virtually impossible.

Even if you offered him all the Kraft caramels he can eat.  

The Next Chapter

You all know her as Anne Rentz.  I’ve called her ‘Chapter One’ for the last six years, a reference to Anne as the subject of the first chapter in my book A Passion for Running.  The title of Anne’s chapter is ‘Running for Fun’ and depicts the transformation of an admitted couch potato at 40 years of age taking up the sport of running and then taking her life in an entirely new direction; one of exercise, physical fitness and eventually the finish line of a 100-mile race. 

Anne’s transformation from couch potato to athlete began when she lived in Marietta, Georgia and ventured outside one day for a casual walk.  She met up with a group of people who told her they walked every day; they invited Anne to join them.  One member of the group was a gentleman who had lived his entire life in Marietta.  His name was William Mayfield Cox, Jr.  It wasn’t long before ‘Eagle Bill’ became a large part of Anne’s life.  Friend, coach, mentor… and then 15 years later, husband.

Anne and Bill were married for a little over seven years before Bill’s life on earth sadly and suddenly came to an end.  The date: January 12, 2015.   He was 83 years young and only a few months removed from fulfilling his dream of riding the 95 miles of the Silver Comet Trail on his recumbent tricycle.  Bill’s late-in-life accomplishment is not surprising. At age 55 he suffered a heart attack and his doctor advised him to exercise if he wanted to continue living.  Bill took the doctor’s advice to heart: He immediately started walking four miles every day, and his commitment to a healthy lifestyle served him well for the next three decades. 

Bill lived quite the full life.  As Anne’s sister Becky said so eloquently at his memorial service, Bill was ‘the wind beneath Anne’s wings.’  He was also:

·      President of Cox Printing Company in Marietta for 60 years.

·      Little League coach of the Westside Warriors football team.

·      President and coach of Custer Park baseball.

·      Founding member of the ‘Circle of Wisdom’ Social Club.

·      Member of the First United Church.

·      Committed husband, father, grandfather and brother.

Bill’s belief in physical fitness and an active lifestyle was exemplified not only by his involvement as a competitor, coach and enthusiast but also through his volunteerism.  It was a regular sight for many years to see Bill supporting Anne in her long-distance races of marathon distances or longer while doing all he could to support the other competitors as well.  In 2008 Bill earned the Darkside Running Club’s Mama Betty Award, a recognition bestowed on the outstanding volunteer of the year. 

It is my honor to have known Bill Cox as a friend.  I don’t ever recall seeing him without his infectious smile, a hat on his head or Anne by his side.  As those who know him can attest, Bill was never at a loss for words.  The man loved to talk.  He also loved his family, he loved his country and he loved his ‘Chapter One.’ 

My favorite photograph of Bill and Anne is on page 272 of A Passion for Running.  Both of them have smiles on their faces (shockingly, Bill isn’t wearing a hat) and cutting a piece of their wedding cake hand-in-hand.  The caption beneath the picture reads ‘Bill and Anne, Husband and Wife.’

I encourage you to look at that photograph so you can see the smile on Bill’s face.

Then you can appreciate something I’ve always known: Anne was the wind beneath Bill’s wings as well. 

You will be missed, Eagle Bill.  Missed, but never forgotten.