Running Essay: Golden Role Model

Jackie Joyner-Kersee Gives Back

Jackie Joyner-Kersee remembers.

“We’d stop to eat after a track meet and everyone else would buy something but I wouldn’t,” the Olympic multi-champion recalls of those long-ago days on the East St. Louis Railer Youth Track Team.

“I’d have to wait until I got home because I didn’t have any money. My mom always taught us, ‘If you don’t have, don’t ask.’ I’d run six events and still say I wasn’t hungry.”

She remembers her coach finally figuring it out. Since Jackie didn’t have, and wouldn’t ask, he started insisting she share some of his food.

Fast forward four decades. When youths at the Jackie Joyner-Kersee Boys & Girls Club in East St. Louis kept showing up hungry, Jackie didn’t wait for them to ask for food. Don’t have, don’t ask.  She started a meal program.

*

 Jackie remembers. Which is why there even is a JJK Boys & Girls Club in her hometown. Because of the huge role a youth recreation center played in her young life, she purchased thirty-seven acres of land and built a facility bearing her own name outside – and her time inside.

“We all need encouragement, so it’s important that they can come in and see my smiling face instead of just my name on the building,” Jackie told me a few years ago. “I take being a role model very seriously. It’s a responsibility that comes with being in the limelight. Someone out there likes you or your style, so you have an influence on them whether you like it or not.

“An athlete shouldn’t take the place of a parent, but some kids don’t have a parent as a role model so then that does fall on you.”

*

Jackie remembers.

Mary Joyner was more interested in her children receiving an education than in them starring in sports.

RunningSilhoette“When I was 10,” Jackie says, “I told my mom I’d go to the Olympics and do you know what she told me? She told me she’d rather I go to college. That’s the same thing I tell kids at the center.”

It is not lip service. Jackie, who graduated from UCLA in 1985, gives educational scholarships through her foundation.

Still, sports are important at the $6-million JJK Boys & Girls Club facility that annually sees 2,400 youths ages 6 to 18 come through its doors.

“We try to use sports, and also drama and music and computers, to get them interested in school,” Joyner-Kersee explains.

*

 Jackie remembers.

“We didn’t always have things, but we always had love,” Jackie recalls of her own childhood, her smile sparkling like her diamond earrings.

The letters she receives from children at the JJK Boys & Girls Club touch her heart, and sometimes break it.

“They’ll write me, ‘I love coming here because I feel so much love here,’ ” Jackie shares. “Most of us take being loved for granted, but some of these kids don’t get love at home.”

“I see courage come through the youth center’s doors every day,” she continues. “Courage to me is believing and never giving up – in anything, not just athletics. If you have that flame within you, and you get some encouragement along the way, you can accomplish your dreams.”

Jackie is a profile in courage. To give you an idea, she won six Olympic medals (three of them gold) over four consecutive Olympics; set world records; and won every sports award imaginable while fighting asthma her entire career.

Now, the heptahlon is grueling enough if you lungs work properly. But to do the 200 meters, 100-meter hurdles, high jump, shot put, long jump, javelin and 800 meters in two days when it feels like you are breathing through a cocktail straw, that takes courage.

*

Jackie remembers.

And so she started a unique program, “Daughters Without Mothers.”

Jackie, you see, became a daughter without a mother during her freshman year at UCLA when Mary died from spinal meningitis

“Not sharing the Olympics with her was the biggest downer in my life,” says Jackie, who turns 51 in 2013 – thirteen years older than her mother was when she died. “I want other girls who lose their mothers to know they aren’t alone.”

Jackie remembers where she came from.

“I’ve been blessed so I want to give back,” she allows. “When I leave this earth, I want to leave behind something that will help others.”

Because she remembers, Jackie Joyner-Kersee is unforgettable.

 

 

 

Book Review: “Together We Jump”

TOGETHER WE JUMP, A Novel by Ken McAlpine (March) 361 pages. FLASH REVIEW: This is a beautiful quilt – a love story, in fact several; a coming of age story of two brothers; and a coming into acceptance of old-age story; a story prominently featuring a Mustang, an alligator and heroic turtles; of life and death, of real war and inner wars; a story with the poetry of Frost and Auden gracefully weaved into the prose of McAlpine: “The pain we suffer is not in things beyond us. The pain is in realizing, too late, that these things were not beyond us” and “Life is a tug of war between how we would like things to be and how they are. War is the same, magnified horribly.” And how can you not love a protagonist named Pogue? RATING, in honor of Roger Ebert: Two Thumbs Up!

Column: Sibling revelry

Hardship Proves To Be A Gift

In the Easter morning video the girl, almost 6, benevolently leaves the easy-to-see colored eggs for her 3-year-old brother to collect. When he has difficulty finding some of them, she guides him with hints and sometimes a pointing finger. In the end, his basket has the bulk of the bounty compared to hers.

In many ways, the scene encapsulates the two decades that have followed: the big sister has always looked out for her little brother, even after he literally became bigger at 6-foot-3. Indeed, it is often the case even after we become adults that we remain locked in our childhood roles among family.

A week ago, a crisis struck. Let’s just say the bottom fell out of an Easter basket, spilling and breaking the dyed eggs. The girl, now a young woman, phoned from 2,200 miles away; “distraught” falls far shy in describing her emotional state.

It is times like this that a daughter needs her mother. However, because the latter was in a deadline vise at her work, the girl insisted she could manage and that Mom stay home.

Similarly, the daughter demanded that her dad also remain at home to help care for his own father – her beloved “Gramps” – who had just undergone knee replacement surgery. Briefly, the roles had been turned upside-down as the grown son became the father and the father became the son.

Lastly, the girl’s younger brother could surely not fly out to be by her side because he was physically and mentally exhausted, having arrived home the night before the crisis struck after traveling for 20 hours across 12 time zones following a five-week sojourn halfway around the globe.

While the parents discussed matters, the son went on-line at 10 p.m. and booked himself a flight; the last-minute ransom pricing causing him no pause. “She needs me,” he said simply, emphatically, as he hurriedly packed. In bed at midnight, he rose at 3 a.m. to make his 6:15 a.m. flight. Upon landing three time zones east he took a long bus ride and then a short taxi trip to her doorstep at 6 p.m.

To this sentimental fool it brought to mind the closing scene in “It’s A Wonderful Life” when Harry, a Navy pilot and war hero, leaves in the middle of a banquet where President Truman is presenting him with the Congressional Medal of Honor to fly through a blizzard from New York to Bedford Falls because his big brother George is in a crisis.

Despite the three-years age difference, it is not rare for people being introduced to the sister and brother to inquire if they are twins. Beyond appearance, they have always shared a twin-like bond. But perhaps never were they closer than during this tribulation.

“He’s the best gift you and Mom ever gave me,” the daughter said on the phone the night he arrived.

Over the next seven days, the brother proved to be penicillin for the ailment. He tackled the crisis head-on, providing leadership and labor, wisdom and support, loving words and a shoulder to cry on, all on his own, all on little sleep.

Sometimes the son becomes the father; certainly the young man became a man, period. Or, as the girl noted: “I have always been the big sister, but this week he has become my big brother.”

Asked how he was holding up midway through his rescue mission, the son quoted former Navy Seal Eric Greitens, who wrote in his best-selling book “The Heart and the Fist”: “When a task is necessary, its difficulty is irrelevant.”

When his sister needed help, everything else was irrelevant.

“She’s the best gift you ever gave me,” the son said, repeating what his big sis had said of him only days earlier – words that are the best gift a parent could ever hear.

And so in many ways, like a favorite old Easter morning video, I cherish the crisis that has now passed. Indeed, to other parents I wish them their own gift-wrapped hardship if it will reinforce their kids’ sibling bonds.

— Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for the Star. You can contact him at WoodyWriter@gmail.com or through his website at www.WoodyWoodburn.com

 

 

 

Book Review: Team of Rivals

TeamRivalsCoverTeam of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln, by Doris Kearns Goodwin (944 pages). FLASH REVIEW: I have read more than a dozen books about Lincoln and the Civil War, visited Gettysburg twice, and hence put off reading “Team of Rivals” because I figured it couldn’t possibly offer much more or live up to its billing. I stand corrected. To my mind, “ToR” is the definitive book on Lincoln. When I got to the final page of this thick tome I was disappointed only in one way — that it was ONLY 944 pages long! I wanted more! RATING: 5 STARS out of 5.

Running Essay: Shoe-in Inspiration

 

This Ultra-Man is a Shoe-in to Inspire Kids

 *  *  *

Momma always says there’s an awful lot you could tell about a person by their shoes. Where they’re going. Where they’ve been. I’ve worn lots of shoes.”

Forrest Gump                        

*

            You can tell an awful lot about Ed Wehan by the pile of running shoes on his front doorstep. The ones caked with dirt tell you he has been on muddy trails. The cleaner ones with worn treads tell you he has traveled countless sidewalks and roads. The newer ones tell you he has more miles to go.

Ed has worn lots of running shoes. He has worn them to complete 115 marathons and 40 ultra-marathons of 50 to 100 miles. While the fictional Forrest Gump went on a running journey that lasted three years, two months, fourteen days, and sixteen hours, Ed has been running for a full four decades.

His odyssey began in 1973 when, at age 29, he didn’t recognize the reflection in the mirror. After earning an MBA at the University of Southern California and joining the working world, Ed fell out of shape. Understand, as an undergraduate at UC Santa Barbara, he had been a supreme athlete. A four-year varsity tennis star, he once made UCLA’s Arthur Ashe – then the nation’s No. 1-ranked collegiate player – work to earn a 6-3, 6-3 victory.

Ed treated running like an opponent’s weak lob – he attacked it. In less than three years he went from jogging a few laps on a track to running a full marathon in 3 hours, 30 minutes.

“My compulsive personality took over,” recalls Ed, who broke 3 hours in his third marathon and ultimately lowered his PR to a blazing 2 hours, 36 minutes. (Ed, who turns 69 this Thursday going on 47, still regularly breaks 4 hours; last month he ran a 1:52 half-marathon.)

Looking for a new runner’s high, in 1979 Ed entered The Western States 100 – an insanely tortuous 100-mile race up, down and across California’s Sierra Nevada Mountains. He finished seventh overall in 18 hours, 48 minutes to become only the 15th person to earn a coveted silver belt buckle for breaking the 24-hour barrier.

While Ed was tireless as a mule at 100 miles, in 50-mile ultras he had the speed of the Pony Express. In fact, in both 1984 and 1985 he clocked the fastest Masters (age 40-and-over) times in the nation at the distance with a best of 5 hours, 39 minutes – an average pace of 6 minutes, 46 seconds per mile!

The running accomplishments of this longtime resident of Ventura, California are all the more remarkable when you learn Ed is a cancer survivor of more than two decades and a dozen years ago he had open-heart surgery to correct atrial fibrillation. He had actually completed a couple 100-mile races with his heart functioning at about 60 percent capacity. Not surprisingly, Ed ran six miles the day before heart surgery. Six months later, he finished third in a 50-mile ultra.

Seven years ago, Ed took on a new challenge – fighting childhood obesity by promoting physical activity and nutritional education. Specifically, he helped create “SummerFest” for local school kids that was named the Governor’s Council on Physical Fitness “Event of the Year” for the State of California three years ago.

“It takes a community to fight childhood obesity,” Ed says. “Parents can’t do it alone, teachers can’t do it alone. It takes all of us advocating for, and being role models for, healthy eating and physical activity.”

“I don’t expect every kid to want to run a marathon or climb Mount Whitney,” says Ed, who of course has reached that summit – the highest peak in the contiguous United States at 14,505 feet – with his teenage daughter. “But hopefully we can encourage kids, teachers and parents to make physical activity a part of their lives.”

And start building their own pile of running shoes on their front porch.– You can contact Woody at WoodyWriter@gmail.com

Column: A Kind Word Lifts Spirits

A Kind Word Can Lift Low Spirits

*  *  *

“We have not yet begun to use kind words in such abundance as they ought to be used.”

                                                                                     – Blaise Pascal, French philosopher

*

Given a quarter-full glass, or three-quarters empty depending on one’s perspective, my mindset is usually, “That’s a lot to drink because that’s a big glass.”

The other day, however, I saw that glass as 75 percent empty – and dirty and cracked. Some cranky e-mails about a column had me feeling low. Then a note from another reader lifted my fallen spirits and brought to mind the poem “On Friendship” by my hero Coach John Wooden:

At times when I am feeling low, / I hear from a friend and then

My worries start to go away / And I am on the mend

No matter what the doctors say – / And their studies never end

The best cure of all, when spirits fall, / Is a kind word from a friend

My cure came from a friend I have never met. Jon Gold, a Los Angeles sportswriter who grew up in Thousand Oaks, wrote me succinctly but with kindness in abundance: “I became a writer because I got to read you write like this when I was 10.”

His words were penicillin for what ailed me. That I somehow inspired someone even a small fraction of the way Jim Murray made me want to become a writer is as nice a compliment as I have ever received.

Jon’s note did something more – it reminded me of this wisdom from Russian screenwriter Sonya Levien: “Good intentions are not enough; they’ve never put an onion in the soup yet.”

How many times have I failed to put an onion in the soup; thought about sending a kind note but not followed up in deed? Thankfully, I have not faltered completely in letting those who have changed my life know it. I wrote to my first newspaper boss last year; my sixth-grade teacher before that; Jim Murray and Coach Wooden before their deaths.

My two adult kids, on the other hand, are chef-like at putting onions in the soup. This very week my daughter wrote a two-page letter to one of her favorite university professors, thanking him for his past and present mentorship. She has similarly written notes of gratitude to numerous other teachers, colleagues, friends.

My son also regularly puts pen to paper to express thanks to professors, mentors, coaches and friends who have influenced his life’s journey. Just recently he mailed a card, albeit three years belatedly, to someone he met only once.

Unfortunately it was returned as undeliverable. However, he was able to locate the person on-line at her new place of employment and resent it. It began: “Dear Liz Williams, I don’t know if you remember me, but I want to thank you for changing my life. . . .”

He proceeded to explain how she had been instrumental in his taking his first humanitarian trip to Africa – Mali – a momentous event that opened his eyes and heart, opened doors, and inspired him to return to Africa – Ghana – as well as make a four-week goodwill visit to Sri Lanka.

My son concluded: “I apologize for getting caught up in other things and not telling you all this sooner – it is one of the lessons from Mali that I have had to re-learn looking back. This long-overdue thanks is to let you know that you have taught me the greatest lesson of all: that we can profoundly change the lives of anyone we come in contact with, and while we may not always know if we do, I wanted you to know that in this case you have made a world of difference.”

Not surprisingly, his thoughtful words were as welcomed as Jon Gold’s were to me. “Thank you for reaching out!” Liz wrote back. “Wow, I am truly overwhelmed by the kindness of your words. It made my day (maybe even my year) . . .”

Now if you will excuse me, I am going to put an onion in the soup and write a long-overdue note of gratitude to my favorite college professor, Mr. Ridland.

— Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for the Star. You can contact him at WoodyWriter@gmail.com or through his website at www.WoodyWoodburn.com

 

Writing Essay: Emulate Marathoners

Writing Essays

(2012)

Write Like a Runner Training For a Marathon

Few feelings of personal satisfaction rival the accomplishment of completing a marathon. While the race distance measures an imposing 26.2 miles, in truth having a finisher’s medal placed around your neck requires hundreds and hundreds of training miles over many months, even on days you feel too tired to lace on your running shoes and head out the door. Perhaps especially on such days. As renown track coach Bill Dellinger once observed, “Good things come slow, especially in distance running.”RunningSilhoette

Good things also come slow in writing. Like training for a marathon, it requires day-in, day-out discipline sweating at the keyboard, even on days when writer’s block strikes. Perhaps especially on such days.

As an award-winning newspaper columnist for more than two decades, deadlines in the press box kept me in tip-top writing shape. However, I lost this welcomed discipline and had to leave the daily grind after I was rear-ended by a speeding drunk driver; the collision caused permanent nerve damage and required disc-fusion surgery in my neck. Following the life-changing event, I have found that the approach used in marathon training is equally effective for freelance writing. I have completed more than a dozen marathons, including the prestigious 2009 Boston Marathon, and by applying these long-distance training methods to my writing I recently completed a non-fiction manuscript I am now shopping to agents.

Just as a marathon training schedule aims to improve a runner’s speed as well as his or her stamina, I am confident you can improve both the quantity and quality of your writing by following these key distance running doctrines.

BUILD YOUR BASE. In order to run 26.2 miles on race day without cramping up or breaking down, a person has to build a solid “base” of 500 miles or more over the preceding months. This entails slowly and consistently increasing your mileage as you grow stronger until you are running 30, 40 or even 60-plus miles each week. Consistency is the key; running 20 miles one week and 40 the next will only lead to injury or burnout.

So, too, must a writer build a base – rather than miles on the road, hours at the keyboard are crucial. Set a weekly goal to begin with, perhaps as moderate as two hours (six days of 20 minutes), and then build on it. A simple way to do so would be to add five minutes on average to each writing session. In just over three months from such a humble start you will have built up to writing 10 hours a week! (If you prefer, your goals could be in words or pages written.) Once you achieve your goal base, be it four hours a week or 40, try to maintain it.

Training for a marathon requires running nearly every day. As the late, great University of Oregon coach Bill Bowerman exhorted his runners: “There’s no such thing as bad weather, just soft people.”

Similarly, writers must avoid daily excuses; there can be no such thing as writer’s block.

LOG YOUR MILEAGE. To stay on track to reach your goal it is important for a runner to keep a training log or journal. Ditto for a writer. If your goal this week is to write for three hours, that does not necessarily mean you must write 30 minutes a day for six days. If you only manage 20 minutes one day, you can pick up the pace with two days of 35 minutes or perhaps one day of 40 minutes. However, unless by design (see Long Runs below) it is best to not to skip days or stray too high from the average daily quota required to meet the weekly goal. Inconsistency will turn a pleasant writing or running routine into a daunting chore as you try to make up for lost time. Again, to do so is to flirt with injury and burnout.

Writers, like runners, are often pleasantly surprised by how quickly the words and miles pile up when the “workout” becomes a habit. For me these habits have become a daily obsession: I have a consecutive streak of running at least three miles daily for more than six years. Two years ago, this inspired me to start a writing streak of at least 20 minutes daily. I find these streaks to be great cures for the occasional running and writing blahs. In fact, most often three miles turns into a run of five or eight miles and 20 minutes writing becomes 45 minutes or an hour.

HARD DAYS, EASY DAYS. After building a solid base, a distance runner turns to focusing on getting faster and running farther in a single workout. This is accomplished with a “hard day” followed by one or two “easy days.” A hard day may consist of “speed work” in the form of a shorter run than usual with much of it at a faster pace; or a longer run than usual; or even a combination of the two.

“Easy days” – also called “recovery days” – are generally shorter and at an easier intensity, or may even be a complete day off. Don’t underestimate the importance of recovery days because the rest allows you to recharge your spirit and also makes it possible to give your best on the hard days.

At the writer’s desk, a hard day of “speed work” might entail completing a magazine piece on deadline; crafting a number of quality queries; or perhaps putting your nose to the grindstone and working though a section of your manuscript that has been giving you great difficulty.

For both the runner and the writer, it is important to follow up each hard day with at least one easy day. For some writers, this might mean editing their raw work; for others it might consist of writing freely without worrying about spelling or grammar. You can get away with a consecutive string of hard days over the short term, but break the rule often and you are dancing with injury or burnout down the road. In this same vein, with running and writing it is important to mix in an occasional easy week (perhaps during a vacation) now and then as well.

LONG RUNS. Finishing a marathon requires not only stamina of the body, but also of the mind; long runs build both, making the legs and lungs stronger as well as one’s confidence and power of concentration. Indeed, a successful marathon training schedule features a few long runs of 20 miles. Of course, a runner slowly builds up to this by adding a mile or two at a time to their weekly long run.

Not only does a 16-or-20-mile run provide an instant boost in morale (Maybe I can run a marathon after all!) it also makes the workouts to follow that much easier. Compared to an 18-mile run, four miles of speed work is much less daunting. Similarly, putting in an extra-long session at the writing desk every week or two provides a dose of confidence and accomplishment while also making it much easier to wrestle with the keyboard for your normal writing “workouts.”

TUNE-UP RACES. Most runners enter a 5K or 10K race, and probably a half-marathon too, while training for a marathon. These shorter races offer a sense of one’s growing fitness level, and also provide confidence and motivation towards the bigger task ahead. The same is true for a writer working on novel or other manuscript; taking a break to write a short fiction story or magazine piece can sharpen your skills and provide a welcome break from your grander challenge.

GET A TRAING PARTNER. Having a training partner, or weekend running group, can keep you from experiencing the “loneliness of the long-distance runner” while providing valuable motivation, support and feedback. Similarly, a writing partner or group can be invaluable in helping keep you on track and growing as you pursue your writing milestones.

BE PROUD OF YOUR MEDAL (AND METTLE). “Running is the greatest metaphor for life, because you get out of it what you put into it,” talk-show host – and marathon finisher – Oprah Winfrey has said. To finish a marathon requires putting in the endless training miles; to finish a manuscript requires putting one’s butt in the chair day after week after month. As renown author Norman Vincent Peale put it: “Anybody can do just about anything with himself that he really wants to and makes up his mind to do. We are capable of greater than we realize.”

To be sure, writing a book is a marathon of an endeavor; one you might feel is beyond you. Think again. By following in marathoners’ footsteps, you can – and will! – reach the finish line.

Book Review: “The Art of Fielding”

THE ART OF FIELDING: A Novel, by Chad Harbach (544 pages). FLASH REVIEW:  This is not a baseball novel or a sports novel, it is simply a terrific novel with a backdrop that just happens to be a baseball diamond. Imagine Rocky Balboa as a scrawny shortstop at a tiny college suddenly destined for greatness in the Big Leagues — although underdog Henry Skrimshander’s gift could be music or painting or any other passion. Add in handful of other characters the reader comes to care about; love and death and second chances and friendships; and a series of roller-coaster story lines perfectly woven, plus beautiful writing and phrase-making, and you have a 1-hit shutout that keeps you on the edge of your seat until the final out . . . or throwing error. RATING: 4.5 STARS out of 5.

Running Essay: We Can Be Like “Pre”

Steve Prefontaine came to mind during my run yesterday. This is not unusual as Pre is a running idol – forever 24 years old and still record-breaking fast in the mind’s eye nearly 37 years after his tragic death – for most everyone who regularly laces up running shoes.

Hanging around my neck, bouncing slightly on my breastbone with each stride, is a small medallion designed by Prefonaine’s artist sister,Linda (http://www.prefontaineproductions.com/). Given to me by my son a few years ago after I qualified for the Boston Marathon, it is a bronze oval representing the track at Oregon’s Hayward Field made so famous by “Pre” in the early 1970s and bears the words “Love To Run.”

I do Love To Run, as evidenced by a consecutive-day streak dating back to July 6, 2003. Moreover, Pre has a presence in my home as the walls in my son’s boyhood bedroom remain decorated with posters and pictures of the late, great runner, including one with Pre going all out – although I suppose no other kind of photograph was ever snapped of Pre in a race – and featuring this hallmark quote: “To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift.

It is this Pre-ism that surprisingly popped into my head during yesterday’s 11-mile run. I say “surprising” because what inspired the thought was not my necklace or my hell-bent effort for my pace was easy recovery, but rather crossing paths with a middle-aged, heavily perspiring, heavyset, heavy-breathing, heavy-footed jogger. In other words, at first glance he did suggest the fleet-footed Pre.

However, this was not my first glance. I have seen this man now and again for the past year or so, but only yesterday did this realization hit home: he has become noticeably lighter of foot and weight; his familiar cotton T-shirt takes more loops, and at faster speed, to grow dark from sweat; the plodder who sometimes needed to walk has become a fitter runner who does not.

Something even more important also struck me, something I should have understood the first time I saw him out there working up a good sweat, something that had no relation to his former heavier weight or slower pace: he was out there giving no less than his best. After all, we do not all share the same gifts; what matters is that we don’t sacrifice them on a couch.

As always, the man and I exchanged waves as we passed each other going opposite directions around a park loop. The next time around, I said, “You look great!”

“Thanks!” he said, smiley widely, and the following go-round added proudly without being short of breath: “I’ve lost forty pounds!”

“Congratulations!” I replied quickly as we passed head-on, turning to add with a shout at his back: “That’s awesome!”

Then I quickened my own pace, inspired by a fellow runner who is very little like Pre except for the one way that matters most: he is not sacrificing his own gift.

Running Essay: Little Fellow Passes Me

(2011)

Being Passed by The Little Fellow Who Follows Me

Twenty-two Decembers ago, upon the birth of my son, legendary basketball coach John Wooden sent me a copy of a poem he had been presented in 1936 when his own son was born.

My "Little Fellow" many years ago during a youth cross-country race.

My “Little Fellow” many years ago during a youth cross-country race.

It is titled, “A Little Fellow Follows Me,” and begins:

     A careful man I want to be,

     A little fellow follows me;

     I dare not to go astray,

     For fear he’ll go the self-same way.

I re-read the poem often, and especially each Father’s Day, and think of that littler fellow every day – even as my own not-so-little fellow has grown six-feet-three-inches tall. I especially was reminded of the poem recently when he and I went on a run together.

Like most father’s and sons, we play basketball in the driveway and catch in the park, but The Little Fellow Who Follows Me especially likes to run.

No. Loves to run. Always has. He even wrote a poem in the second grade that said so, titled: “I Am A Boy Who Loves To Run.”

I am not sure where this pedestrian passion comes from. Track and cross country were never my sports. Or my two older brothers’ sports. Or my dad’s.

But they are my son’s. Instead of posters and pictures of Peyton manning and Shaquille O’Neal, his boyhood bedroom wall is plastered with ones of U.S. Olympic distance running legends Steve Prefontaine and Billy Mills and Deena Kastor.

* * *

     I cannot once escape his eyes,

     Whatever he sees me do, he tries;

     Like me he says he’s going to be,

     The little chap who follows me.

Greg representing USC on the track with true "Fight On!" spirit.

Greg representing USC on the track with true “Fight On!” spirit.

My son is much too fast for me these days – he was a four-year walk-on for the University of Southern California Track & Field team and Distance Captain last season as a senior. His event was the 5,000 meters with some 1,500s. Now we only run together occasionally when he is home on a break from running his nonprofit organization Give Running www.giverunning.org and has an “easy” day training for road races. Indeed, even though I am fast enough to have qualified for the Boston Marathon, his “easy” runs are my speed workouts just trying to keep up with him!

But we used to run together a lot. In fact, The Little Chap Who Follows Me actually would run next to me. We talked a lot. Actually, he did. Me, I mostly listened.

He would tell me about his friends, about school, about video games, about what moves he would make if he coached the Lakers.

Our running conversations also included a lot of questions. Usually his. Often they made me laugh out loud. Like, “Was Gramps really a kid once?”

And, “Is Mom growing shorter?”

“What?”

“Dad, I really think she’s shrinking!”

“No, I think you’re just growing taller.”

“Oh yeah, I guess so.”

You can see why I always savored running with The Little Fellow Who Follows Me, even when the pace was slower than I’d like to keep him from actually following me. Admittedly, I knew this wouldn’t last long. Indeed, like his shrinking mother, his dad is growing slower.

More than that, The Little Fellow also simply became a faster fellow who at age 11 ran a 5:37 mile, broke 20 minutes in the 5K and competed in the cross country nationals in his age group.

* * *

     He thinks that I am good and fine,

     Believes in every word of mine;

     The base in me he must not see,

     The little chap who follows me.

I specifically, and fondly, remember one magical day 11 years ago – I know the year because it’s in my running diary, the memory preserved like a pressed rose in a scrapbook. The Little Chap Who Follows Me wanted to go on a 3-mile run. When we reached the turnaround point, I was struggling not to be The Old Man Who Follows Him.

Slowly, but methodically, The Little Chap Who Follows Me took the lead and widened it.

When he finally sensed that I was no longer with him, he turned around and came back for me. I told him to go ahead and I’d meet him at the park, but he would have none of that and ran alongside me at my pace the rest of the way.

I had envisioned this watershed day coming, the day when I couldn’t keep up – but not for a few more years I thought.

I thought wrong. Indeed, it was no fluke.

A couple days later, we went for a run in the hills and again I struggled to keep pace. Midway up “The Long Monster Hill That Makes Your Legs Burn,” as he has nicknamed this stretch of heartbreak road, I breathlessly insisted that The Little Fellow Who Follows Me go on ahead and wait for me at the top.

* * *

     I must remember as I go,

My not-so-lIttle "Little Fellow" and me.

My not-so-little “Little Fellow” and me.

     Through summer’s sun and winter’s snow;

     I am building for the years to be

     That little chap who follows me.

With the summer’s-like sun setting behind the mountains, I finally crested the Monster Hill long after The Little Chap Who Follows Me did.

When I at last came into his view, he waved at me and smiled a big smile that seemed equal parts I-missed-you-Dad and pride. My pride was even greater. It is a mental snapshot I will remember as I go through the rest of my summer suns and winter snows.

Running, of course, is just a metaphor. My 11-year-old son’s flying Nikes as he effortlessly sailed up The Long Monster Hill That Makes Your Legs Burn and left me behind were a reminder of time’s winged flight, that The Little Fellow Who Follows Me wouldn’t be little for long.

Yes, figuratively I had glimpsed the future, and it is as it should be. Sons should grow taller and faster and stronger and more talented than their dads. And handsomer and funnier and wiser, too.

In short, become better.

Become, also, careful men with their own little fellows who follow them.

Until then, The Little Fellow Who Follows Me, now 22, gets to lead me. And I could not be happier.