Last night I was speaking with an old friend till near ten.
We’d remained on the phone for about 90 minutes. I’m certain he will dispute me
on that, when he reads this blog. It’s because he’s a numbers guy. I’m a
numbers gal; however, my numbers come with weather stats from years past or
current, birthdates, pulse rates, breathe rates, and such. I am more science
oriented with my numbers. Too, I don’t think Tom has HSAM, but I know I do. Tom
Allen is ten years my senior. We’d known each other since 1989 through long-distance
running. He knew Tom Fleming (TF), my old long-distance coach from 1988-1995
and 1997-2000. Tom Allen and I met in Brookdale Park in Essex County, NJ. It
was where TF would usually have us do our Tuesday night fartlek training.
What struck me last night was how we realize very little
about someone else’s life or happenings. Some of us seem to reveal much;
however, there are times when our own lives are so enormous we most likely will
not remember anything or certain things about another human being’s life happenings.
And that would be normal. I know who I’ve revealed what to. That is because I’m
purposeful in what I reveal to a person and when. Tom and I usually talk about
running stats of others—Records, record holders, the distance of what an area
might be and of course the weather I’d recall on some day. Although Tom Allen would
probably have wheeled a course decades ago if it were in Essex County, NJ. Me, it
would be having another friend who’d passed in 2014 also named Tom who was as
ridiculous as I have been with stats, distance, time, weather and such who’d
wheeled a few of our running courses in parks of Bergen County that now Tom
Allen runs there about twice a month.
Over the decades of running now in my sixth decade of doing
so, I’ve reckoned with various forms of measuring running courses. It was that
I or some of my old friends who’ve died young had measured in various ways, as
Dave Dunn had now decades ago. Dave and I had measured our local neighborhoods
in Ridgewood, Waldwick, Wyckoff and Midland Park in many ways that we’d
overlapped each other, though I trust my accuracy over Dave’s, because he was
just a regular guy, not necessarily a numbers or a stats guy. Like he was too
cool to be that type of guy.
About a year ago Tom Allen said, “TF and I disagreed on that
Brookdale Park loop. I told TF I’d wheeled it to 1.778… and he said …”. Tom
Allen told me how they’d verbally grappled that day over the varying .001 measurement
differences. Yes, we appear to be way geeky when it comes to our measuring running
paths. There is a method to our madness. Tom Allen will tell you who he met
what year, what race and as we’d paused last night for him to go back and check
his 1988, 1991, then 1990 logbooks; it was then suddenly very quiet. I thought,
did he fallen asleep? I knew I’d had an early dinner, but my eyes weren’t
telling me I was tired yet. No, he had not. I knew Tom had dinner about 90
minutes after I’d had. As I’d finished eating my dinner before five last night
and he hadn’t cooked yet as it was a little before six in the evening when I’d
initially called Tom and he told me he’d have to call me back after he’d
prepared and eaten his dinner.
So, going back to the silence of the logbooks—I don’t
know if he’d written down when he’d met a 79-year-old runner who’d ran a 44-minute
10K in Asbury Park, NJ. I then commented, “I loved that race. Damn. They should
have never gotten rid of it.” Tom continued, “So Ed Benham in 1986 ran a 44-minute
10K in Asbury Park that year. And they gave him a standing ovation…” I
remarked, “I raced that day. I was there…” I recalled as Tom spoke on other
Asbury Park 10K year’s races—as I had to leave before the awards ceremony that
day to attend my niece’s 8th birthday party at my sister-in-law’s
home. Too, I’d wanted to visit an old high school running friend before Norman
got off work that night at ten that Saturday evening.
Our next conversation was on what had Tom Allen noticed
about his running body, like the size of his feet and changes in structure. I’d
wondered what he’d recalled, now that he was 74. He remarked, “I wished I had
measurements of my body. It would have been interesting to know body fat… the
changes… I had lost ten pounds once I became a real runner. I wasn’t really
running the first year. I’d run 2 miles…” It was like Tom explained that he’d
just run, because he’d enjoyed it. It was new to him all those decades ago. He’d
not run in high school, nor college. Conversely, I’d been running since age 13
and was competitive with it within two months of starting to run long-distance.
I’d raced in high school, maintained my running during my military time, went
to college part-time mostly at night between military commitment, then marriage,
then work. Began racing towards the end of my obligated military service.
Tom went on to explain what each of his average paced times
were in the years, only one year somewhere around 2011 to 2014 had his average
training pace per mile gotten a smidge better the following year. Otherwise, he’d
explained it’d been all downhill in his average pace per mile each year of the
past two decades or so. I told him that this year he and I both struggled with
injuries; however, mine was permanent (missing the functioning of my right
gluteus medius) as it was from the abduction in 1991and the surgery in 1993 and
his was a chronic issue of inflexibility. He said, “I wonder if that hadn’t
happened to you, how fast you would have been?” I replied, “Tom Fleming
probably wondered that too. I led the 1991 Detroit International Marathon for
15 miles then my right leg began to spasm so much that by 22.5 miles I was
hobbled. I had a good pace till then. By 20 miles I was at a sub-2:45 pace. But
the last few miles I was near a complete stop. I had to shake my leg out to get
the spasming calmed down… I ended up in 4th place with a 2:51:13.”
Tom recalled that TF had leg spasms decades ago in the Baltimore Marathon to
the point of having to stop. Which was indeed unusual for TF as far as I’d
known. TF never talked to me about that race he was in.
I told Tom last night that his needing physical therapy for
flexibility will get his running times faster per mile. I’m kind of psyched for
Tom. I think he just may end up running faster next year per mile than he had
in the last six years. I think he’ll be pleasantly surprised. Tom stated last
night that he’d figured, “Every 1 million steps I trip…” but doesn’t do a
horrible fall. “But every year is about 4 million steps in running and I may
fall but not that hard. This year I was running through Lyndhurst. I fell really
hard and an old Italian couple saw me. They helped me. I was bloodied. The old
Italian man asked if I’d like a ride home.” Tom continued, “I actually thought
and said ‘yes’. The guy drove me home. So, I saw there was a sale on sweet Italian
sausage and bought a bunch. And you know when you do, you’re going to make a
big batch… I brought a container of the sauce I’d made to the old Italian
couple and gave them some. Old people don’t need more things… You know, people
feel like they got to give you a gift if you buy them something; however, when
you make them something they can eat. There’s no obligation and it’s not a
waste.”
Soon, I could hear Tom getting tired. I wasn’t yet there but
knew I had to wind down to get to that place of sleepiness. It’s funny, I call people once a year, once a
month, once a quarter or so. It depends on who it is. This year I’ve decided to
cut out about thirteen people from that ‘check in and see how they’re doing
list’. It is when they almost never call you back, after you’ve called them
six or ten times or more over the past decade. When Tom Allen says he will call
you back at a certain time. He absolutely does. That’s quite a bit the way I
am. This type of communication response is not a generational thing. It’s
called respect, even if we are not having the same lives. This year I realized,
some of their not returning my call has had to do with their lack of acceptance
of my running, or my caring and the secrets I keep in the silence of the
logbooks.---Jody-Lynn Reicher
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