Watching the kids run reminds us why we do
Ran my first 100 of the season today at the Flo-Jo International youth meet in San Diego. Time isn’t important (I didn’t want to pester a busy guy at the finish line), but we had a great time. A few other masters ran, including M40 national champ Kettrell Berry (he ran a smooth 11.14) and recent indoor nationals medialist Greg Pizza, 51, who clocked 12.26 with a slight aiding wind in my race. (I was second or third.) It’s pronounced PIE-zuh, BTW. He trains with M45 stud Jim Chinn at Cal State San Marcos.
The kids were incredible, and some incredibly small. Some of the munchkins were short enought to run under hurdles. But all looked just like a bunch of mini-Olympians, giving every last ounce of effort to cheers of their coaches and parents.
Speaking of cheers, the meet director, Elizabeth Tate of Flo-Jo International, asked me near the end of the meet to judge the team cheer competition. I was honored and said yes, of course. I stood at the 50-yard lane, facing the bleachers at Hoover High School, and listened as groups of parents, athletes and coaches — from as far away as Palmdale and Mexicali — yell and gesture like crazy for 10-15 seconds.
At first I was a little worried that I might not be able to tell the loudest cheer. But a team from Camp Pendleton, a Marine base north of San Diego, erased all concern. They didn’t yel, “Hooo-ahh.” They just were LOUD. And loudest. A big trophy went to the Marine club (which I learned had mostly kids from military families.) They wore crisp blue-and-white uniforms (the baby blue color of U.N. peacekeeping forces), and were represented in most races.
The meet took me back to my first track experience — as part of a Buena Park Boys Club contingent that traveled to a faraway place called “Arcadia” in 1964 or 1965. (Geez — 40 years ago!) I took something like fifth in my first race, a 75-yard dash. Then I took off my shoes and won a 50-yard dash. The blue ribbon is still somewhere in my archives.
My earliest races were all on hard dirt, or “cinder,” of course, not the snazzy all-weather track like Hoover has. In fact, my first hurdle races were on a grass track at Kraemer Intermediate School in Placentia, California. My form then was probably like that I saw today — run fast and hop, run fast and hop.
But hopping is what comes naturally to a kid. Today they competed as bantams, and sub-bantams and youths, etc. In a few years, they’ll be high school stars, and perhaps a few will compete in U.S. uniforms at Games far beyond the 2012 horizon.
My earnest hope is that more than a few of them will retain the joy they displayed today.
See y’all around 2035.
