songs of experience

A while back I posted the quiz, “Are you a lifetime runner?” and today I am thinking about my resounding yes to question #12.

Yesterday I witnessed Chapel Hill high school win not one but two State Championships @ Winston-Salem’s Tanglewood Park. Both the boys and the girls teams hauled in the 4-A first-place hardware … but it was the boys race that had all the Tiger fans bug-eyed afterward. It came down to one point (as all great races must) and coaches screaming, “every place counts!” couldn’t have meant more. Senior phenom, Jack Bolas, pulled a Tazmanian devil-like kick out of his you-know-what to thrill everyone with a victory at the tape. “How the heck did you do that!?” I wanted to know, but felt sheepish asking for an interview. My place was on the sidelines, not in the winner’s circle.

I came to the race as both insider and outsider. I hadn’t been to a high school state cross-country championship in 18 years … and before that, the last one I attended was the one I ran in (on the boys team, because in 1979 there was no state meet for girls in North Carolina). Some guy on the sidelines, who recognized me (as a “famous runner”?) asked, “Why are you here?”

Why, indeed. I’m not a coach or a parent of any of the runners at Chapel Hill high. I didn’t have anything to do with the administration end of the event. I wasn’t really directly connected to anyone in the meet. But, I felt … I feel … I am connected to every single runner in the race. You’ve heard of Everyman in The Pilgrim’s Progress? Well, I am Everyrunner.

Also, I wanted to support my former UNC athlete, now coaching at his high school alma mater, in his bid for the state title. John Cline, another Tazmanian devil racer, invited me to speak to his guys before the gun. I was humbled and flattered. How many times have I stood in a circle of runners, with arms outstretched in the center, ready for the “One, two, three, GO __________ (insert mascot’s name)!”? Hundreds, maybe a thousand times. I always knew what to say. It came to me from the running gods. But, yesterday, I had no inner-circle power. I was to be a witness only. It was John’s love and intensity and belief they wanted to hear - in John’s own words - not mine. So, I slipped away to my spot on the rail and watched.

I watched Taylor and Vanya line up as young men when just yesterday (wasn’t it?!) they were little Pacer boys. I can still see Duncan’s relaxed smile and Becky’s determined focus, Peter’s grimace and Christina’s steady pace. I see Jack’s crazy finish and his mom’s proud, glorious, beautiful face. I see them all and I remember.

It is hard to go back and watch and feel like John Knowles must have felt when he wrote in A Separate Peace:

“This was the tree, and it seemed to me standing there to resemble those men, the giants of your childhood, whom you encounter years later and find that they are not merely smaller in relation to your growth, but that they are absolutey smaller, shrunken by age.”