Today I ran at a winter all-comers meet at Long Beach State University — almost exactly 10 years after high-jumping 5-5 3/4 for my first masters thrill there in my track comeback at age 40. Didn’t jump today, but saw some good jumping. Didn’t run great either, but saw a guy run a mile with all four laps faster than my one.

I arrived at the gate around 10 a.m., just as the first event — the 60-meter hurdles — went off. I always feel a twinge of nostalgia for that race. I could have beat most of the field in my prime. At the entry table, I announced, “One spectator and one track star,” and paid my $8 ($5 participant’s fee and $3 for spectators). My son, Bobby, 16, had on his Grossmont High School band jacket, and I was wearing my 1995 Michigan State masters nationals T-shirt. But after we got our hands stamped, I noticed Bobby’s said: “Participant.” What? An old geezer can’t be a track star?
I laughed it off — but came back later for the correct hand-stamp.
Setting up camp in the grassy area at the southside of the Jack Rose Track — facing the big blue Pyramid, used for volleyball and basketball — I struck up a conversation with M60 masters sprinter Dan Girling, who once told me he runs because he wants to stay alive. Dan is short and stocky but loves to dash. Today he said he’d add the 200 to the 60 being contested. I saw him run his 60 — he had an outside lane. And even though he brought up the rear, I was impressed (as always) by his gritty style and determination.
While warming up, I stopped to chat with Ron Lee, a 41-year-old high jumper. Ron — who takes off like Dick Fosbury (from the lefthand side) was the best M40 jumper in the nation in 2004, clearing 1.97 — about 6-5 1/2. I jokingly urged him to go for 2.00 today (not realizing he really was up for it). He ended up going 1.90 — 6-2 3/4. Not bad for an overcast February day with temps in the mid-60s.
Outside the restroom, I ran into Eugene Anton, an M45 hurdler making progress after ACL surgery. We commiserated on our respective injuries (I have two torns ACLs myself). But his was repaired with some nearby ligament. He had to go warm up for the 60 but did me a big favor by pointing out that I was about to push my way into the women’s restroom. Thanks, Eugene!
Just before my race, the 400, came about five heats of the mile. In one men’s heat a short kid in front went by the 200-to-go mark in 3:40. So he must have finished close to 4:10 for the mile. Very impressive.
I yelled encouragement to two 60-something milers, who were in the same race as 7-year-olds. I cheered on the geezers, telling them: “Go get those kids.” At least one of them did. One fellow told me that he hadn’t run a mile on the track in 10 or 15 years, and that he had worked all night and still came to the meet.
Both the 60 something would later run in Heat 12 of the men’s 400.
I ran in Heat 10 (of 12).
I had Lane 7, and made it my goal to push for a good 200. My son would clock my 200 split. I had a solid start, good arm drive and booked it. My split was 31 seconds. Not terrible, considering my season PR for 200 last year was 27.2. But I didn’t have much strength for the final straight and finished in 66.7. That’s 0.5 back of the time I ran on this same track in October. At least I’m consistent.
(Don’t look to me as a role model in anything but spelling.)
On the way back to my blanket, I stopped to encourage a gray-whiskered pole vaulter with a pronounced beer belly. I saw him clear about 12 feet, and joked that he should pass the current height. He laughed and said he’d already cleared it. I asked how old he was. He said 35. Floored me.
At least I look my age.
As I picked up my gear near the 400 start, two kids in my heat made a point of telling me “Good race” or shake my hand. I smiled and proudly told one: “I’m 50. See you here in 30 years.”
On the way back to the car, I stopped to ask for results at the declaration tent. Most of the 400 heat sheets were in, but not Heat 10. I came back 5 minutes later, and they still weren’t there. I wanted my time.
A student volunteer (probably a guy on the Lon Beach State track team) said he’d go fetch the sheets. A minute later, he jogged back with the results. What service!
Then we drove off, stopped at Target, bought a cartridge that lets you broadcast iPod music out of your car stereo, and headed home to ecletic accompaniment (stopping for a double-double at In-N-Out). Nice day.
Nice sport, too.