Distance Running - Part 3

My kids were active in sports in junior high, but neither continued through high school. My older daughter, Natalie, took up running a few years back, and she recently participated in the Columbus Marathon -- running the half marathon for the first time.

I was very proud of her for even running, but even prouder when she finished. There were 2760 people in the half marathon, and she finished 378th. Among the 1696 females who ran, she finished 119th. And she was 26th out of 300 in her division, which means females in her age range.

Just as rewarding for me was the fact that several of my friends -- males in their 30's and early 40's -- ran, and Natalie beat all of them but one. A sampling: Natalie finished in 1 hour 48 minutes 26 seconds, an average of about 8:17 per mile. My friends, who shall remain anonymous for the purpose of this post, averaged anywhere from about 8:40 per mile all the way up to over 11 minutes per mile.

The picture is Natalie on the final stetch, about 200 yards from the finish. I was amazed that she was running full-stride, while the people around her looked like they were about to collapse.

She is now training for a marathon to benefit research for various blood cancers. Her note follows, and all you have to do is use the link at the end to contribute. Hey, it's the least you can do...

Dear Friends, Family, and Coworkers:

Please take a look at my Team in Training page. I will be running a half marathon in April and would not be asking you for money unless it were for a very good cause. I hope my page will explain that to you.

The way I see it: $1400 is a lot, but not that much to raise for such a good cause. If 70 people donated $20 each, I could achieve this goal. (Of course, if you want to donate more, that is also appreciated!) At any rate, please do not feel obligated to donate or be offended by this e-mail.

If you decide not to donate, please consider sending the e-mail on. Blood cancers touch more people than I realized before -- not just the patients, but their family and friends, too.

I will be more than happy to keep you updated on my training if you are interested.

Thank you for your consideration.

Best,
Natalie A. Gerhardstein



Want to donate or help? Simply go to the link below:

http://www.active.com/donate/tntcoh/tntcohNGerhar

NOTE!!! This isn't an actual link, you have to copy and paste it...

Distance Running - Part 2

When I was running, back in the olden days, they wouldn't let junior high-schoolers run more than a half mile. Junior high school where I went included 9th grade, so I was a sophomore before I could even compete in the mile, and by that time I had discovered the joys of high jumping. During my senior year, I broke our school high jump record by a full 3 inches, and that remains the greatest feat of my sporting life.

But back to running. During the fall of 1973, I decided to run to my sister's house in Fremont. I had measured the run at 17 miles, which could have been off by a tenth or two, since I was trusting the odometer on Dad's pick-up truck when I measured the route. I had to plan on someone getting me back to Bellevue, and once the plans were in place, I ran.

It was a Sunday morning, and the temperature was probably in the low 60s. I took off and ran down the country roads. By about 10 miles into the run, I had become so thirsty that I started to shake. It might have been a bit of hunger, too, but what I remember most was how absolutely parched I was. These days, when I'm parched, I open a cold bottle of beer, but there were none on this particular road that day. But there were fields full of sugar beets.

I ran into a beet field and pulled a few from the ground. I tried to wipe the dirt off of them, and used the sharpest stone I could find to cut into them. Then I did my best to extract whatever liquid I could. The beets were sweet and wet and good.

I made it to Fremont in a little under 2 hours, a pace of about 6:40 per mile, which included the interlude at the Sugar Beet Rest Stop. At the time, I figured my actual pace was 6:20 per mile while I was running and not scavenging for sugar beets. I remember very clearly that I was barely winded when I arrived in Fremont. I honestly think I could have kept that pace up for another 17 miles.

There's no other point to this, except it makes a great segue into the next, and final, chapter of the Distance Running trilogy.

Distance Running

I was eight years old watching a track meet on Wide World of Sports. All of the runners in the mile broke the four-minute barrier, apparently the first time that had ever happened. I turned around to my Dad, and said, "What's the big deal?"

Dad, with that grin of his, asked if I thought it was so easy, did I think I could run a mile in four minutes? Of course I thought I could.

It just so happened that the first block of apple trees we had planted the year before was 220 yards long. All I had to do was run from the lane to the end of the orchard and back four times in four minutes.

I seem to remember Dad and one or two of my sisters walking to the orchard with me as I prepared to make my assault on the four-minute mile. It was ready, set, go, and off I went.

I made the turn-around at the end of the orchard and as I reached the lane -- the one-quarter mile mark -- Dad yelled out, "Two minutes."

Needless to say, I knew I would have to pick up the pace if I were going to do this in the allotted time. I started running a bit faster, and as I came to the lane the second time, Dad yelled, "Three-fifty." I had made some progress in the second leg of the run, and now all I had to do was run down and back two more times in ten seconds.

I finished the mile in exactly eight minutes, and thus started my 10 year running career. Jim Ryun, who held many middle-distance world records in the 1960's and early 1970's, became my sports idol. In the race I saw on Wide World of Sports, he finished eighth, but became the first high-schooler to break the four minute barrier. He's now a Republican congressman from Kansas.

My brother and I marked off all sorts of distances on the rural roads near our house, and I quickly got into the habit of running. There were some weeks when I logged more than 50 miles, and periodically I even ran to school in the morning, a run of almost five miles. I kept careful track of various times and distances. My immediate goal was to run a mile in less than six minutes.

A few years later, on August 18, 1967, my friend Kevin rode his bike to my house to ask if I wanted to go fishing with him the next day. Dad was in the shop welding a trailer hitch for a guy who had brought it over for repairs. I asked Dad if I could go fishing with Kevin the next day, and I fully expected him to say no. Summers were a busy time in the orchard, and there was always something to do; so much, in fact, that he asked me to give up Little League baseball that year because it was keeping me out of the orchard too much. I was surprised when Dad said, "If you can go out right now and run a mile in under six minutes, you can go fishing." He knew that my time was down to around 6:10, and that I had a mental block about breaking 6:00.

Much of the family gathered in the driveway, along with the guy whose trailer hitch was being welded. We knew where the half mile point was, as we had measured it from the telephone pole near the barn, so all I had to do was run there and back in six minutes.

I got the signal to go, and Kevin rode along on his bicycle. Someone had given him a watch to take along so I could keep time while running. At the quarter-mile mark (a pole in my grandmother's yard), I was at 1:27. So far, so good. At the half-mile point, I was at 2:54. I made the turn and lagged a bit in the third quarter mile, but I put on a nice finishing kick and crossed the line in 5:54.

Kevin and I rode our bikes the six miles or so to one of the Bellevue reservoirs the next day, and we probably caught a few bluegills. I don't actually remember if we caught any fish, but it was what it took to get there that stayed in my memory.

Pet Peeves

Time out from the Great American Novel.

I have some pet peeves, as I'm sure everyone does. I'm going to list my top nine. Some are societal, some are grammatical, and if you're guilty of any of these, please stop. I play by the rules, and if everyone did, this world would be a much nicer place.

In approximate order toward the worst:

1. Loud, loud speakers in your car. This is especially true if you're listening to rap music. If I'm trying to listen to a soft passage of a Bach concerto and I can't hear it with my windows up, your volume is too high.

2. The fire lane is a FIRE LANE!! What is so hard to understand about that? I can't stand to see able-bodied people parking right in front of the dry cleaning business so they can drop off their clothes. Park in the little spaces that have a stripe on either side. I know it's a 20 second walk from there, but you'll manage just fine. Then I won't have to wait for oncoming traffic while you're picking up your duds. Please.

3. This is for Lake Erie people, but why in the world are you keeping a 4 inch perch?? If it ain't 7 inches long (and I'm sorry if "ain't" is one of your pet peeves, but it seems to work here), let the poor fish live another year so it grows up to be big enough that you can actually eat it.

4. Turn signals were made for a reason. Use them before you cut in front of me on the freeway. Or when you're turning. That way I won't throw anything at you...or follow you home and make threatening gestures at you all the way there.

5. When the signs says, "12 items or less," that's what it means. Not 13. Not 16. Not 23. It means 12.

6. "Irregardless" is not a word. You mean "regardless." So say what you mean.

7. When you are shopping, take the cart to your car and unload it. Then take it to the place designated for shopping carts. Don't leave it in the parking space, or elsewhere on the lot. I had a new car that was dented during the first week of ownership because some inconsiderate shopper left his/her shopping cart in the parking lot, and the winds were blowing enough to slam it into my car. Like #2 above, it will take about 20 seconds out of your day to play by the rules, so just do it. This one burns me a lot.

8. If you and I have something between us, it's between you and me. It's not between you and I. Didn't Mrs. Smith teach you anything in 5th grade English? It's between YOU AND ME.

9. My biggest pet peeve...if you hog the passing lane and you are not passing, you are my enemy. Here is a mantra for you: "The left lane is for passing. The left lane is for passing. THE LEFT LANE IS FOR PASSING." Make your move, pass the car, then get back to the right where you belong. If you've ever driven on the Autobahn, you know that passing on the right is illegal, hence people pass on the left and get the hell out of the way. It's efficient, it's reasonable, and it's the smart way to drive, so get the hell out of my way.

Barnaby: Death of an Icon

Thom or Barnaby? You decide.



My paternal grandparents lived on the west edge of Bellevue in the house in which my dad and my grandfather grew up. It was about 4 miles east of our house, and the difference was enough to enable them to pick up the Cleveland television stations, while we were pretty much stuck with the Toledo stations. This, of course, was long before the days of cable or satellite TV, and the limiting factors were the height and sensitivity of your outside antenna and the weather.

It was at their house that we would watch channel 5 from Cleveland. On a children's program was a character named Barnaby. He wore a straw hat and had pointy ears and would probably be pretty scary to me as an adult, but as a kid, Barnaby seemed to be an okay dude. It is with great sadness that I report the demise of Barnaby.

Here's a link (as long as it's active) to a story about Barnaby's death.

Barnaby had a special place in the Gerhardstein household because my brother Thom had Barnaby ears. He eventually outgrew them, but we were often confused trying to figure out who was Barnaby and who was Thom. I guess we won't have that debate any longer.

This is the way to spend a morning

I just received the digital version of this picture, and had to post it. This creature has very sharp teeth, is very strong, and was celebrating his 50th birthday that day. He's holding a barracuda.

By the way, I just discovered that you can click on any of these pictures to get a better look.

The Bellevue Connection

First picture: Dennis (Houston, Texas), Joe (Gulf Coast of Florida), me, Mike (Gulf Coast of Florida) and Chuck (Las Vegas, Nevada). I think all 4 of them had my mother as their 2nd grade teacher, and I was in the other 2nd grade class at the Immaculate Conception School. Of the five of us in this picture, four of us actually graduated from ICS at the end of 8th grade. Can you guess which one didn't? (Hint: He lasted until about 3rd grade. It's still not clear to me if his Dad pulled him out or the nuns kicked him out.)

Second picture: My reaction to the George McGovern button given to me by sister Linda. One of the great mysteries of life: how can someone so intelligent be so liberal? (Hint: People can be intelligent in different ways, much to my consternation. She's the same sister I referred to in an earlier post -- she thinks the pun is the lowest form of humor!)

A few more pictures...

First picture: Sarah, Matt, Paul, Sam, Dave, Chrisy and Wagner (not his real name, but that's what we call him).

Next: Me with my sisters Di, Linda and Mary K. My sister Toni and family also made it to Florida, but were unable to attend the party. They couldn't find a place to park their Winnebago, so they stopped by for an hour or so on their way back from Key West to say hello.

Last: Some hot babe I picked up after feeding her twelve Margaritas. I believe her name is Dorothy. I might have given her my phone number.

More party pics....

In the group photo, left to right: Di (one of my 6 sisters, who, incidentally, already has had her 50th birthday party), who flew in from Dallas with her husband Bruce; Me; Chrisy, a very good friend who flew in from Akron, Ohio; Matt, another very good friend who flew in from Columbus; and Dave, yet another very good friend, also flying in from Columbus (sorry about those eyes, Dave). Picture was taken January 6, 2006.

The other picture is me, taken on the Cigarette boat on January 7, 2006. Do I look hungover to you?? Must be those good German genes that got me through the night before this picture was taken, and for that matter, the whole week before that picture was taken.

You Say It's My Birthday?

This was one for the record books.

One of my older sisters started a tradition on her 50th birthday. She had her birthday party in Las Vegas, and we had to go there to celebrate with her. Now, many years later, it was my turn. Since my birthday is January 6, I decided a long time ago that my party would be in a warm-weather climate. For various reasons, I chose Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

About half of my family made it (my kids couldn't due to work schedules, I'm sorry to say). I also had many friends from Columbus and from around the country, almost 30 in all. One of my friends who lives on the gulf side of Florida came over, and I hadn't seen him in 30 years.

The party was an absolute blast, in fact the whole 9 days I spent there was a blast. The morning of my birthday, several of us went fishing and we caught two barracudas, one being 52 inches long. It will reside permanently at my friend Dave's house, if his wife will allow him to hang it on the wall. I left my 44 incher in Florida.

The day after, we went out on a 38 foot Cigarette boat, and let me tell you, that boat screams. We got it up to just a nudge under 90 MPH, and that is just plain fast on water. Left to right: Mary K. (my sister who started this tradition), her husband Dave, Joe (my Florida friend), Chuck (another old friend from Bellevue, who flew in from Las Vegas for the party) and me.

Next up is sister Toni, whose 50th is next February. She is thinking of going to Key West, and I'm not going to miss that party...