Where running enthusiasts can find books, videos, free reading materials, strange photographs, and a few random thoughts courtesy of 1976 Olympic marathoner and current Runner's World senior writer Don Kardong. Looking for inspiration, entertainment, coaching advice, or a speaker for an upcoming event? You're in the right place.

May 20th, 2002

Two weeks ago we celebrated the 26th running of the Lilac Bloomsday Run here in Spokane. It was a wonderful weekend, with Bill Rodgers in attendance for the first time since 1978, and exciting victories by James Koskei and Colleen De Reuck, who led nearly 50,000 people across the finish line. Right in the middle of the pack was Dana Gaber, 33 years old, who was later identified as Bloomsday's one-millionth finisher.

In all, a splendid way to spend a slightly chilly spring morning. Splendid, that is, if a body could just stop worrying about his own time, which this year was 48:55 for the 12-kilometer course. A year ago I ran 47:45 after a winter of ice-impaired "running" at a pace so slow it wasn't worth recording. A year ago I was also suffering aches and tweaks in my hamstrings and calves, but somehow held together for that 47:45. This year, with better winter running and generally healthy muscles, I was expecting improvement, however modest. I had even added hill repeats so I could manage Bloomsday's three monsters better. And after all that I ran over a minute slower.

I'm aware of the fact that the aging process is somewhat capricious in how it affects different people. Still, it makes me wonder. With better training, fewer injuries, slightly less weight to carry, and no compelling excuses, should a year really cause over a minute slowdown in my time?

On the other hand, I went trail running last Sunday in Riverside State Park, where wildflowers have been rioting since March. Clumps of exploding arrowleaf balsamroot--a kind of wild daisy I like to call Molly Blooms--were everywhere, bright yellow splashes up and down every hillside.

One week it's 50,000 Bloomies in the streets. The next it's 50,000 blooms in the woods. Just the kind of distractions to take an obsessive runner's mind off that insignificant one-minute slowdown.

But still…

-Don


Words of Wisdom Archives...

September, 1990

This is one of the stories in Don Kardong's book "Hills, Hawgs and Ho Chi Minh." For information, click here

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"He never let them down, taking on any rival in any circumstance, sometimes seeming to be on the brink of disaster and then, just when you thought it was over, dredging and grasping a final something from a place deeper than the pain, deeper than the self-doubt, deeper than despair."

I suppose this could be almost any road race. The morning is overcast but pleasant. Hundreds of runners of all ages, shapes and sizes are warming up, pinning on numbers or nervously shaking hamstrings and doing half-hearted stretches. Officials scurry back and forth making last-minute system checks.

As the starting time approaches, I finish my warmup and sit to put on my racing flats. I had hoped to be more ready for this, to have come here with the appropriate sense of athletic mission. Perhaps, even, to win. But a virus has interrupted my training, and its vestiges still rumble vaguely in my lungs. This excuse, though, the very fact of excuse in this race, makes me ashamed.

As I get to my feet for the final few minutes of prerace warmup, I realize how familiar this all feels. Jitters, sweat, self-doubt, adrenaline, impending doom. All of it connects me to my past.

And then I notice a man in the street, dressed in the red polo shirt that indicates he is an official. He is short, somewhat round in girth, with dark hair and features. A moustache gives a sense of wit to his smile. There's something in his brown eyes, too, a certain ironic spark that I recognize, and that takes me back in years.

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