March 11, 2001
CYBERCOLUMN:
The celebrated Cowtown Marathon 5k run
___By Brett Younger
___Late on a Monday evening,, our 8-year-old cunningly said, "Most of the kids have fathers running with them."
___ For several weeks, Caleb had been training after school for that Saturday’s Fort Worth Cowtown Marathon 5K run. He did not indicate that this involved me in any way until he cruelly pointed out, "Clayton’s dad is running." (Thank you, Stephen Wilson. Maybe someday I’ll do something for you—like run you back onto the curb with my car). Caleb understands that shame is effective in getting your father to endure almost anything. Marathons began with the legend of a Greek runner (probably a father) who ran a long way and then died. I agreed anyway.
BRETT YOUNGER
___On Tuesday, while visiting in Abilene, I asked a hotel clerk a question I have never asked before and hope to never ask again: "Do you have an exercise room?" I naively thought a treadmill would have only an on/off switch. I had to enter my weight, vertical feet (I assumed I have two horizontal feet) and speed (I looked for "barely moving") before I could begin running (throughout this column I am using the verb "run" in the broad, general sense). I slid off the end twice, and my ankles concretized, but I eventually finished 3.0 miles—or maybe I burned 3.0 calories.
___On Wednesday, I hopped/fell/whatever out of bed and decided that the treadmill was the problem. I went to the track at Hardin-Simmons University and jogged at glacial speed. After a full lap around the football and soccer field, I asked, "How far is it around the track?"
___"Three laps to a mile."
___"Are you sure?"
___ On lap number seven, I began to understand why runners use baby powder. By the end, I was certain that I had done permanent damage to my lungs, but I was pleased that after only one day of practice I had added 42 seconds to my time.
___ On Thursday, I crawled out of bed and remembered that marathon runners often take a day off and crawled back into bed.
___ On Friday, I went to the gym, where after running a mile around the basketball court ("It’s 25 laps to a mile." "Are you sure?"), I remembered that real marathon runners don’t run far on the day before a big race.
___On the way to the Stockyards, the trash talk began: "Caleb, when we get 20 yards from the end, do you want to cross the finish line holding hands to show that we’re running together or do we sprint to see which one of us is faster?"
___ "Dad, if you are still there at the end, I will leave you behind."
___ When I told the woman at registration that I was running with my 8-year-old she wrote "DO NOT LIST" to keep what she assumed would be my slower-than-usual-time out of the newspaper. I laughed out loud.
___ Caleb and I got to the starting line in time to be behind 7,700 of the 7,729 running our race. A group of girls were wearing T-shirts that said, "I am running for Cynde Riggle." It’s good to run for a good cause. I should have had a sign that said, "I am running for no good reason."
___ We heard the starter shout, "Ready. Set. Go." Then we stood still for at least two minutes before the multitude in front of us began to budge. For the first mile, it was like running in a crowded elevator. My child, the one with whom my wife sternly instructed me to stay, began squeezing through six-inch spaces. He cut between mothers, daughters, fathers, sons and the legs of particularly tall people. I was desperate to find him for about five minutes—almost half a block.
___ One mother was running in a short black dress, stockings, and casual dress shoes. I remarked (as I shouldn’t have), "I almost wore that same running outfit."
___She replied without smiling, "I didn’t know I was going to be running."
___ I tried to make her feel better, "We guessed."
___ At the one-mile mark, we learned that we were only 10 minutes behind world-record pace. We caught a woman with a cane, but a couple in XXL T-shirts passed us.
___ Caleb tried to lose me again at the halfway point water stop. On television, runners are handed cups of water that they gulp as they run. It may have worked that way at the Cowtown 5K for the first five thousand or so, but by the time we got there, there was a line. Caleb cut in line and forced me into a "Sophie’s Choice" decision—keep up with my child or wait for water. It tasted great.
___ About the two-and-a-half-mile mark, we passed a guy with a T-shirt that read, "I would kill everyone in this room for one drop of sweet beer." A couple of baby strollers sped past us, but they were obviously serious runners.
___ About 20 yards from the end, Caleb took my hand so we could cross the finish line together. Maybe I had a good reason to run after all.
___ Brett Younger is pastor of Broadway Baptist Church in Fort Worth.
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