Richard “Rick” Riddle of Texas is yet another blogger/trackster. His Web log is called “Now I Get It….maybe” And with respect to masters track, there’s no doubt he gets it. An M50 sprinter and architect living in Arlington, he shares occasional snippets of his training and competition in the Land of Bill Collins. In fact, Collins coaches Rick. (Rick took fifth behind Bill in the M50 100 and fourth in the 200 at the World Masters Games in Edmonton last July, in fact.)

On November 20, 2005, Rick wrote an appreciation:
One of the ways I pass my time and use my energy is competing in masters’ track and field. Like most special interest areas of our lives, it has its own set of conventions and ideals, a distinct culture and a colorful cast of characters. This past year, while competing at the World Masters Games in Canada, I was able to spend some time in conversation with track and field legend Bill Collins.
I had admired Bill and his reputation for many years, joining a legion of folks that think very highly of him.
While in Canada I experienced the good fortune of somehow twisting his arm into being my personal coach. He is a demanding coach. My tired body is beginning to understand the requirements of working toward my best possible performance.
I may end up embarrassing Coach Collins a little here, but he needs to know that many people in our sport want to be ‘like Bill’.
Why? I personally think it is more than the World and American records and what seems as if it is the most remarkable run of excellence in the sport in recent memory.
Bill has a warm manner of respectfulness about him. A sense that those of us that chase him down the track with persistence yet always fail to catch him, are deserving of his respect, his time and his attention. It is a very special quality and I admire it.
In Canada it seemed that every athlete in the stadium stopped by to meet him and talk with him. I was amazed at his unfailing good cheer and politeness, even while he was trying to prepare for a race.
Legends are important to our culture. Legendary individuals cannot be copied or replaced; the definition itself precludes the possibility.
Today is my coach’s birthday. The following anecdote about Louis Armstrong has been printed in different places over time and is retold below in recognition of Bill’s birthday.
____________________________________________________________
Louis Armstrong was once asked whether he objected to the impressions of him frequently given by other singers and comedians. “Not really,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders.
“A lotta cats copy the Mona Lisa, but people still line up to see the original.”
Happy Birthday Coach Collins
Me again:
A few days earlier, Rick composed this soaring prose:
Recess in Heaven
The sky was a remarkable blue yesterday. The wind was blowing from the north and it had a November bite that made one unsure if they might need long sleeves.
My work day was slow and I was looking forward to my workout at the stadium at noon.
My track coach had prescribed a stadium step workout. Running up the steps repetitively, looking for fall strength that would lead to spring and summer speed on the track.
When I arrived I was alone. Standing in the stands I could see the neighboring Catholic Church in the near distance. On certain hours it offers up a bell tower chorus that always feels like a personal visit from God.
A training partner had emailed that he could not make the workout because of a series of meetings at work.
I began the labor of running the steps, reminding myself that it was necessary work. The strength gained would translate to speed in the racing season.
From seemingly nowhere my training partner appeared. He was like a friendly smiling ghost, moving toward me with nonchalance. He had ditched his meetings. The sun seemed brighter.
He ran the next series with me, my final ascent for the day. Then he began his own assault on the steps without me. I returned to the track below. I was missing something important on this November day. I had not sprinted since my last track meet in September. All of the workouts since then had been designed for strength conditioning to prepare for the competitions of next year.
I sprinted down the track for about 50 meters with the old familiar effort, speed returning the best it could in my weary legs. I wanted more.
My friend called from the stands. “Are you going to do more of those?”
He joined me on the artificial turf of the football field below.
I took off my shoes to run in my socks.
He tossed his gloves to the field.
We sprinted.
Down the field.
Fulfilling the need.
Taming the beast that prowled inside.
We did it again and again.
Over and over.
Side by side.
Doing exactly what we would do if it were recess in heaven.
My friend had to go back to work.
We thanked one another and said goodbye.
After he left I put on my shoes and walked to the center of the field. I stared into the blue sky above. The north breeze was a perfect temperature, the sun shone steadily and happily.
The church bells began to ring.
I smiled inside.
Heaven does visit earth.
We just have to open our arms.
Wish for a friend.
Then do what you would do if it were recess in heaven.