Living the Dream!
Have you ever experienced a time in your life that you were simply happy to be in the moment?
A time where nothing could take away the enjoyment you felt?
For me, that time was the 1979 Cross Country season at Umpqua Community College.
Our team wasn't very good. I ran faster times in the upcoming years. But that season stands out to me because with every practice, every long van ride, every race - I was living the dream.
I was a college runner.
Bonanza, Cheap Beer & Aaron Rodgers
Our first few meets actually stand out more than the later ones, starting with my first official college race, The Butte Invitational. Decked out in our lovely green singlets and pinstriped shorts, we competed against several small college teams in northern California on a course that looked like the set of "Bonanza." Oddly enough, this is also the same college campus where future NFL QB Aaron Rogers got his start.
This race awarded t-shirts to the top fifteen finishers. Counting off as I neared the turnaround, I saw that I had work ahead of me if I wanted to avoid returning home emptyhanded Kicking it up a notch and counting off each runner I passed, I came in second for our team at...fifteenth place! (That race also ended my high-school tradition of wearing clip-on suspenders with my warm-ups, courtesy of the smirks from other runners.)
Next up was an International Race at UCC, including a hill so steep that the trail zig-zagged to climb it. Following this was a lap around the track, jumping over four steeples and later running through or leaping over a wide pit filled with grass clippings. Being a dumb eighteen-year-old, the night before the race, I didn’t get home until 1 am. Although I’d behaved myself with the beer, my dad expressed significant concern, certain that I’d pay for my sins with the race. What he and I didn’t realize was that I’d had several good nights of sleep throughout that week. To his pleasant surprise, I placed second overall, first for our team as well as earning my first trophy. Even better, my old high school coach was there and while he and my father were talking, the UCC coach approached the high school coach to tell him how happy he was with me - a conversation that my father didn’t mind overhearing.
Back to Earth! Ouch!
Nice as it was to be first for our team, I knew that my talents did not lend themselves to such a lofty perch. When our final two runners arrived at the start of the fall term, I quickly moved down the pecking order to number three.
The next several meets also had us facing stronger teams. Still, I was running faster than ever before, competing against runners I'd only known by name just months earlier. Life was good.
I Was Part of the "Green Mean Machine"
One of my fonder memories occurred later in the season with a 10-Mile Relay (Four runners doing one, two, three and four-mile legs). I’d been invited to be on a fast team early in the season only to be axed when I fell to number three at UCC. Nose bent out way of shape, I was then brought in as a “ringer” for a local radio station team in a much-less competitive division. That translated into four easy four miles that awarded me with another trophy, as well as free pizza and beer - with no one questioning an eighteen-year quaffing ales! I might have mentioned that just a time or two to my teammates. I do wish I’d hung onto that hideous “KQEN Green Mean Machine” t-shirt.
Hijinks at High Elevation
Our Conference Meet took place at Sunriver, a beautiful resort just outside of Bend, in Central Oregon. It's one of my favorite places, situated in the Cascade Mountains with tall pines reaching high overhead and scraggly sagebrush along the otherwise barren ground.
We weren’t the closest team, but for the most part, we got along. If there was an exception, it was our top runner. A talented guy in his early twenties who seemed an expert on everything. He also saw himself as a ladies' man - which in fairness, he was.
This led to one of my either more hilarious and/or painfully immature stunts. The night before the race, he told several of us to stay out of our room because he had a girl from some other team in there with him. For whatever reason that possessed me at the time, I had a someone from our women’s team put a robe on over her uniform and walk into that room, yelling out, “You bastard!”
Silly as it sounds, that goofy prank worked. With that other girl immediately vacating our room, this guy found me, saying that I needed to “tell whoever set that up, it wasn’t cool.” My poker face held. While I wasn’t a big fan of his, I also knew full well that this guy could easily beat the living crap out of me.
The real standout from that meet was that this same guy had choked in all three of his previous conference meets. Would he make it four out of four? was the question looming in everyone’s minds.
It shouldn’t have. Because, by allegedly falling asleep in the team van, he missed the start of the race. Our number two guy also struggled, barely beating me at the end. And if I’m fighting for the top spot, that ain't good.
Our team, however, showed strong unity in the face of this adversity with each of us hurling a loud F-bomb to this guy when we saw him standing by the coach, half-heartedly cheering us on.
(Let me add that this all took place forty-five years ago and is water way, way under the bridge. Should the individual I've referenced somehow come across this, know that there are no grudges or hard feelings. I truly hope everything has worked out for you.)
Not the ending I’d hoped for, but still my best season as a runner at that time, earning a solid place on the team and the respect of our coach. There would be three more seasons of college cross country. Each with stronger and closer teams. But none of them would ever touch the mystique associated with this special season.
Thoughts? Memories to share? You can comment below or on Facebook! And thanks for indulging me on our trip in the “Way Back Machine.”
Really enjoyed those stories from your first year. That's a magical time – the first full year as an adult and charting your own path.