January 25th, 2002

Last night I carried the Olympic torch. The flame of the 2002 Winter Olympics has been making the rounds on its tortuous journey to Salt Lake City, and it finally found its way here to Spokane. It's the first official Olympic torch visit to these parts in history. And it felt good to get reacquainted.

Reacquainted? Well, in 1976 I carried the Olympic torch through the streets of Montreal on the night before the opening ceremonies. Not every Olympian is so lucky, but I had been asked by a Montreal policeman if I'd be willing to join a group of that city's finest during their segment of the relay. They wanted an Olympic athlete in their midst, and I was happy to oblige.

1976 Olympic Torch Run. I'm in there somewhere.

I've always thought the Olympic flame was an especially fine symbol. Fire can be destructive, but it also represents the essence of human experience. The earliest cultures learned how to tame the flame, and how to carry it from place to place on their journeys. For ages people have gathered around fire for warmth, companionship and story telling. In various mythologies, fire has represented wisdom, passion, inspiration--traits that make us human. And in the Olympics, the flame burns throughout the Games, a testament to every athlete's dreams.

I don't remember too much about my torch run in Montreal, except for the excitement of the citizens who lined the streets. they were proud to welcome the flame to their city, and uplifted for a moment as it passed.

When I returned to Spokane after the 1976 Olympics, I felt like I brought a spark of the flame with me. When I suggested later in the year that Spokane have a downtown road race, dozens of volunteers stepped forward. And in May, 1977, over a thousand runners showed up for the first Lilac Bloomsday run. The next year, five thousand. Then ten thousand. Within a decade, the number had grown to an astounding 50,000--growth ignited, I think, by a bit of Olympic inspiration.

When I carried the torch last night, it rekindled some memories. So did the enthusiasm of Spokane citizens. This was the first official visit of the Olympic torch to Spokane. 

Somehow, though, it felt like it had been here before.


Spokane Torch Ceremony. I'm the one in the white uniform.

-Don

November 22, 2001

I'm thankful I finished them both.

Regular readers of "Words of Wisdom"--you know who you are--will recall my October 22 column, in which I mentioned I was heading to Washington, DC, for the Marine Corps Marathon, then to the New York City Marathon a week later.

I'm able to report success in both towns. My Marine Corps time was 3:37:49, New York 3:35:40. Those are modest performances, from which I've emerged unscathed but for a black toenail or two. I'm especially pleased to have joined over 40,000 runners who rallied in support of the two cities hit by terrorists, and to have enjoyed the raucous support of wonderful crowds along each route.

Both marathons employed unusual security precautions that might have cast a shadow over the events. They didn't. The upbeat mood of runners and spectators prevailed.

As I said in my November 14 "Bell Lap" on Runner's World Online, "Is there anything that brings people together better than our sport, with its parade of tiring but determined humans tromping through urban neighborhoods?"

I don't think so. And I'm thankful to have been part of the tromping in two great cities, both of which are clearly in good spirits, and on the road to recovery. As am I.

--Don

October 22, 2001

I hate to miss Halloween. It's a night to celebrate primal fear, which is about as important a thing to celebrate as there is. Plus, you get candy.

When my daughters were young, I hated to be out of town for the big day, and I seldom was. Even now, with both daughters beyond the Halloween years, I enjoy staying home, answering the doorbell, and ministering to the ghoulish minions who haunt our neighborhood.

This year, though, I'll have to miss all that, but for good reason. I'll be on the road, halfway through a two-marathon adventure. On October 28th, I'll run the Marine Corps Marathon. A week later, New York City.

Those marathons, of course, are in the two cities attacked on September 11. Runner's World has asked me to do a story about how runners, organizers and spectators rally in response to the tragedy. Most years, residents of DC and New York cheer the runners. This year, I expect it'll be the other way around. 

If you're running either marathon, I hope to see you there. We'll face a bit of primal fear together, and reward ourselves afterwards. Not with candy, but with the knowledge that we've shared an experience, one that honors the human spirit.

--Don

October 6, 2001

The events of September 11 are fresh in mind, the U.S. economy is seriously perplexed, and tension wafts in the air, so this might seem a strange time to launch a Web site. Especially one that celebrates running, an activity that offers...what?...in getting us beyond the current crisis.

Of course when I'm tense, I go for a run. It almost always helps. And when I'm mired in problems, I find that putting one foot in front of the other, over and over again, is a way of spurring forward motion, literally and figuratively. If nothing else, running at a time like this is a pure expression of something we cherish. Freedom.

I hope you're finding some solace in your running. I hope you're enjoying the blessings of fitness. And if you're out early on a clear morning, look east. There's Venus, pure and bright. A sight, to be sure, worth putting on running shoes to enjoy.

Thanks for visiting my new Web site.

--Don


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