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.