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Distance Run Turns Into
Schoolyard Recess
“Hi!” a girl, perhaps entering third grade when the new school year begins, called out enthusiastically.
I was circling a half-mile loop around soccer fields during my daily run on a recent weekday afternoon while a youth summer camp was in full swing. About three-dozen kids were enjoying recess-like activities including tag, jump rope and various games with balls.
“Hi!” the same girl repeated, now waving, on my next loop as if seeing me for the first time. A couple of her friends joined in: “Hi” and “Hey Running Man!”
“Hello!” I replied, adding quickly as I passed, “are you having a fun summer?”
“Yessss!” they sang in chorus.
In fits and starts, as I passed by I continued a conversation with what was now five girls sitting in a circle on the grass having snacks: “When does school start?”
Gleeful again: “Next week!”
Next lap: “Are you excited for school?”
“Yessss!” again in song.
I do not like to stop during a run, but on the next lap I did so briefly to ask the five girls, “What grades are you going to be in this year?”
The answers, one by one around the circle, all accompanied by smiles: “Third, fourth, fourth, second, third.”
Off I resumed, my stride feeling as light as Hermes with his winged feet.
Next time around, I was greeted by a boy holding his palm up to give me a high-five; the following loop, a line of kids did so.
It is my experience that the best runs transform themselves from effort into play. In other words, they become recess. For the better part of the 22 laps of this 11-mile run, I was a fifth-grader lost in recess fun.
I say fifth-grader specifically because my teacher that year, Mr. Hawkins, used to join us on the playground and grass field. Some days he would shoot baskets with us; other times we would run pass patterns and he would throw football spirals to us; too, he was pitcher for both teams in softball games.
On this day, I became Mr. Hawkins – albeit in Nikes and T-shirt instead of wingtips and his familiar square-ended knitted necktie. On one loop, a boy camper handed me a football and ran out for a pass. Slowing, but still on the run, I threw wildly.
Half of a mile later, I took another handoff but this time I stopped, planted my feet, and threw a touchdown spiral to make Rams quarterback Jared Goff – or Mr. Hawkins – proud.
Another loop around, a girl tossed me a foam Frisbee. I caught it, but my return toss sailed off-target in a side breeze and she giggled. I retrieved the errant disc and this time made an accurate throw that was rewarded with a happy young smile.
There was more fun. On a couple laps, I found myself with running companions for about 100 meters and was reminded of the races we had with Mr. Hawkins to the far fence on the playground grass.
The order of events this day is beyond my recall, but they included jumping rope until I missed; playing dodge ball when a basketball-sized fuzzy tennis ball was rolled at my feet – “Good jump, Mister!”; and being asked by a girl to spray sunscreen on her back.
This day, I did not care what pace my GPS running watch showed.
This day, I recalled the words of golfing legend Walter Hagen: “Don’t hurry. Don’t worry. You’re only here for a short visit. So don’t forget to stop and smell the roses.”
This day, I stopped to play.
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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.
Check out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …
- Personalized signed copies are available at WoodyWoodburn.com