I decided to participate in my high school’s cross country team my senior year. I had wrestled the year before and was preparing to do my very best in wrestling my final year. I thought that running on the cross country team would help me get in shape. I joined the team at the beginning of the school year in September. There weren’t very many participants. We probably had 10 boys and six girls.
I knew that there were some good distance runners at our school that did not participate that year for reasons unknown to me. That left me as the fastest three miler on our team that season. We lost every dual meet and (most likely) finished last at every invitational. I would finish in the middle of the pack whether it was a dual meet or an invitational with several schools. Average was good enough to be the best at my school that year. (There was a race or two that year where a teammate or two finished before me.)
I enjoyed running after school. I loved the feeling of the sun on my shoulders and face as we would run in the late afternoon on fall days in Contra Costa County of the San Francisco Bay Area. I especially loved running through the hills. I also enjoyed the association with my teammates. As we would run, our hearts and minds opened and we would talk about the things that mattered most to us, including our futures.
I felt lots of endorphin release as we ran. Running seemed to encourage me to eat better. As we would run I would feel thirsty for water instead of sugary sodas. I would imagine myself eating apples, bananas and juicy oranges instead of Ding Dongs and Hostess Pies.
Gary Montante was the head coach. I believe he was in his 30’s then. He was in great shape. The Stanford graduate was my computer teacher. (Computers at that time were gigantic, as you can imagine.) Sometimes I stayed in his classroom at lunchtime to get extra help. I noticed that he would eat fresh fruit, nuts and other natural foods. No wonder he was in such good shape.
Another cool thing about him: if I needed help with a math problem, Mr Montante would pull up a chair directly in front of me and with his pencil would write the numbers so that they would be right side up for me, which meant, of course, that the numbers were upside down for him. I thought that was pretty cool.
One of my favorite runs was called Questionable Springs. After running five or six miles in the hills we’d arrive at a spring of water, but no one really know if it was safe to drink or not. We drank it anyway.
I loved the camaraderie as we would board the bus to head off to our meets and invitationals. Of course I wanted to run as fast as I could, but I mostly ran for the joy of it. I loved the feeling of expending all the energy I could. Sometimes after competing we would go and get some pizza together.
I didn’t like the other coach so much. (He shall remain nameless.)
Since I was the fastest runner on the team he thought he was going to give me some unsolicited counsel so that I could run faster. We had no relationship. He knew very little about me and had invested little in getting to know me. I didn’t think he particularly cared about me as an individual. I wasn’t interested in what he had to say either.
One day he was frustrated that the school’s fastest runner only finished in the middle of the pack. He began to pressure me in front of several teammates to improve my times. “I’m not here to set any records,” I replied.
I meant it. I was running to get in shape for the wrestling season but had fallen in love with running. I loved running with my friends, feeling healthier, and being tan. I certainly felt that I was running fast enough for me. I wasn’t there to please him.
Word got around amongst some of my friends how I had responded to the coach. There were times when I would be sitting in another class and would respond incorrectly to one of the teacher’s questions. “He’s not here to set any records you know,” my classmates would say with a wink.
I’ve taken that philosophy with me into middle age. I more focused on loving and learning than I am on trying to impress someone else. No, I’m still not here to set any records, but I am happy and living life my way.