This is my 1,000th post. Yeah, I have 1,000 entries on Masters News and Muse. (And countless embedded links.) Coincidentally, my first post was on a January 5 — exactly four years ago. The cheeky debut headline: “A blog to boggle masters track.” And, yup, lots of people have been boggled. Actually, I launched the blog as an experiment. I wanted to see if masters track contained enough content to supply a daily diary of our niche. Duh! I could write five newsy posts a day if I had the time. I wanted to do justice to our traveling tribe, more than a monthly paper has room for.

One thing I didn’t want this blog to be was me-me-me. No how-I-spent-my-every-waking-hour type flatulence that the Blogosphere is infamous for. I promised myself this blog would be about you-you-you. And irony of ironies: The more I revealed about you, the more you confided in me!
Tonight I took a stroll down memory lane, and pulled out these posts as most representative of what we do down here at the Muse:
Dueling records: Ours and theirs was one of many rants on our dysfunctional records process. I eventually just up and called for Sandy Pashkin’s ouster. An earlier records czar came in for criticism in The missing milestone: Glen Conley’s 7-foot jump. And I really vented in an August 2005 post: Oh nooooooo! Mundle mucks up Masters Age Records, which did absolutely no good, since the 2006 edition is worse than ever! (I spotted more than 100 errors before I lost count.) Don’t waste $10.
WMA Council violates own conflict-of-interest laws was one of dozens of posts challenging our leaders to get their act together. On bended knee before the budget appeals board was an inside peek at the USATF budgeting system. An insider leaked me higher-ups’ email to produce the Inner workings of WMA planners revealed.
I was overly interested in old Olympians and world-record holders, especially when they talked masters.
Moses, you ain’t our savior took one tack. (Edwin later called off his comeback.) But I was a big fan of Roger in Kingdom replies to doubters. But after Gerry Lindgren speaks: My Hawaii interview, I learned the sordid details of his backstory.
Carl Lewis and Lee Evans may be joining us on the track made a splash. (But don’t expect anything of it.) Later I began a series about Henry Rono’s goal of an M55 mile record. Others mulling masters included Olympic hurdle champ Hayes Jones and Zola Budd, pledging to put her feet in the door.
Athletes overcoming ordeals was a major theme — often in their own words.
Masters decathlete fears loss of home near New Orleans came in the wake of Katrina. (He eventually returned home after fleeing to relatives.) The walking hurdler’s tale: Suffering, scoring for Brianna provoked debate after Charlotte nationals. And I couldn’t resist meeting my childhood heroes, as manifest in Brumel at SoCal masters meet in form of John Dobroth.
I liked to break news:
Big Apple dumps 2007 masters indoor nationals was a shocker. I later wrote about the anatomy of the disaster. Then I dissected the debacle And the story isn’t over.
No fooling: The column NMN refused to print came from Al Sheahen. Another exclusive was news of the new owner, Randy Sturgeon. And I’m still thrilled by the no-longer-free GeezerJock magazine: A milestone masters publication — for free
I tried to tell the “rest of the story” when I could ferret it out: Age-Graded Tables: Tanned, rested and ready — eventually The print version still hasn’t been published, but I posted the tables online as a document.
Finally, a masters track film for the ages was my review of “Racing Against the Clock” about a handful of women staying in the game. I also cheered “Rocky Balboa,” another masters flick.
Dream of Fields: Another perfect day at 100 was my way of scrutinizing a too-good-to-be-true 100-meter dash time. (Turns out the finish line was at the wrong spot.)
ESPN mangles the masters (but thanks for the air time) was a hoot of a transcription of the 2005 national open championships 110 hurdles masters exhibition, featuring Willie Gault.
In a rant called Time for WMA to stop coddling Torsten Carlius, I wrote: “Dracula doesn’t die, and neither does Count Carlius.” Was I way off! (Torsten passed away four months later.) I also was prescient in Pathos in Paradise — my Hawaiian Hall of Shame, which introduced a kvetching runner named Randy Sturgeon.
I loved sharing little-known info on the sport, such as Russ Acea’s 1991 master’s thesis on masters still holds. And expensive, well-known resources, such as ‘Masters Track: A History’ now searchable online.
World-class M45 runner Castillo dies in crash was among too many death notices I posted. Also dying tragically were sprinters Willie Venable and Paul Johnson. Age caught up with distance legend Derek Turnbull, WAVA founder Ian Hume, Southeast meet maven Bob Boal, Pasadena icon Pete Clentzos and centenarians Erwin Jaskulski and John Whittemore — and especially superfan Marion Higgins, 112.
Reporting live from the scene was the most fun, however, like when I phoned my wife and dictated: Lightning strikes in Charlotte, threatens schedule crisis. Then lightning struck the Masters Committee, with George Mathews revealing his resignation. And Rex Harvey created his own fireworks, saying meet management “bordered on criminal.” And if I couldn’t attend a major meet, I could count on meet announcer Pete Taylor or on a British friend, as in Live from Linz! It’s Pete Mulholland’s world-class blog!
I bit off more than I could chew at times, though, saying a year ago: Coming this spring: New, improved masterstrack.com But sometimes I did make good on a pledge, such as getting the bulk of world masters meet results online.
The most popular post of the first four years?
That’s easy!
Who wants to remove the mile from masters records? attracted more than 60 visitor comments, totaling more than 10,000 words. Guess their stand. Your outrage was heard by the powers that be.
The most impressive number, though, is the one you generated. In 48 months, exactly 1,700 legitimate (non-spam) comments have been posted on this blog. I’m grateful to you guys and gals. And I’m humbled to be your loyal smart-ass servant.
Carry on, champs.