Sea Side Half Marathon, Long Beach, California, March 27, 2011

Race Number “39”

Jack Benny, recognized as one of the leading American entertainers of the 20th century, played the role of the comic penny-pinching miser, insisting on remaining 39 years old, on stage, despite his actual age. I watched Mr. Benny as a young boy, thinking 39 was VERY old and hoping I would progress to that age without misfortune. Mr. Benny made such a big deal about not surpassing that epoch landmark it made me think that any age past that magic 39 must represent the near end of life. Yet, here I was, at age 61, running my “39th” half marathon after two back surgeries, a painful steroid injection, and a tough ¾ of a year on rehab (not to mention a hodgepodge of medications and vitamin supplements). Mr. Benny quipped, “Age is strictly a case of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter.” I think he was correct, although there have been some physical reality checks for me along the way.

I “jogged” the Seaside Half Marathon, in Long Beach California today, being very careful that my foot strikes did not jar my back too much. I reduced those strikes upon the terra firma from 180 per minute (or an average 25,200 per race) to 160 although my slower pace increased my total strikes by 14% for this race, so all I gained was a more leisurely, less impacting pace. Frankly, I did not think I deserved the finisher medal that was hung around my neck. On the other hand, I have a weakened spine and I don't deserve that either. (see personal note below)


Notwithstanding, the race this morning, could have been seen as routine, but only in the sense in which that word can be used when running thirteen miles on black and convoluted pavement. Looked at another way, I did not meet my maker or exhibit the fleet feet of Mercury; ergo, it was routine. It was a low-key rebirth of believing I could possibly attain my goal of 100 half marathons…. IF I live to 106 years old.

The race was produced and staged by a fella by the name of Charlie Alewine. Charlie produces many small races throughout the SoCal area and limits entries to 50 runners between the half and full marathons. He does a great job. It is like running with a running club (which I have not had occasion to do because I am an introverted perfectionist who might not be able to keep up, thus I run alone…. with my thoughts and pain). We ran in a beautiful part of Long Beach, along one of the bays in a light rain that kept me cool. I will run more Charlie Races if I get the opportunity. Great course! My legs hung in there and my lungs and heart loved pumping at sea level. The ocean air cleansed me. Running by the Pacific made my first race in eight months, special.  The Colfax Half, in May, is my next venture.

A final personal note: In January, I met with my rehab doctor and went through a half hour of muscle stress testing, bending, and stretching while I waxed on as to how important it was for me to continue my present way of life……then, Dr. Munson sort of took the floor and commented on my surfing and my running. She pitched that 50 half marathons “may” be ok (“and certainly not 100”) BUT surfing is especially something I should not do anymore due to the “wipe outs” and thrashing that come with almost every wave. You can imagine the piercing of my heart and the bloodletting that occurred in the car after I left the appointment and sat, stunned, in the parking garage for 15 minutes. There is nothing quite like the sense of utter irretrievability one experiences on losing the opportunity to exercise a passion. I have always (since 6th grade) run in a mano to mano, adversary relationship with the ocean. Riding and sailing the surf and the ocean has been a passion for me (I once helped sail, over a three week ordeal, a 50ft racing sloop from Hawaii to California in 10-12 foot breaking swells…not a pleasure cruise, that is for sure). Now I “may” be relegated to walking the beach experiencing the scent of the ocean….. which is a pleasurable experience difficult to surpass, UNLESS you elect to reminisce about your days on a surf board, a boogie board or a racing sloop…….then it feels like you have been thrown into prison. I am not at peace with this declaration to “stop” right now. I am not sure what to do.

I often suffer from my somewhat rooted pessimism, and no doubt I reason that since it is not written in the laws of this country or of my God that I MUST set out and run a race for 13.1 miles or that I MUST surf the California coast, my doing so is at least, partly an act of thoughtlessness. I suppose, I deserve the suffering that occurs after the folly. My gut tells me I should continue the recklessness. With that thought, I think I am going to take a couple of Percocet, go get my scheduled massage, wiggle into my wet suit and head to the beach with my board and contemplate whether I should enter the surf……which, BTW, is running 3-4 feet on a cold north swell..... pretty irresistible.

I sure hope I do not get stuck on number 39, like Mr. Benny. Be well, my friends!

Prayer List: Miles 1-3: Shelby Griffin, three year old recovering from surgery. Miles 4-6: Jack Johnson, a new baby boy born to my colleague, Jeff Johnson. Miles 7-9: Mira Turnbull, born nearly three months pre-mature but doing well at Rose Medical Center in Denver. Miles 10-13: Dave Eason, my lifelong buddy in California as he continues to recover from a mild heart attack (if there is anything "mild" about a heart attack).