THE FIRST LAP ALONG THE MIGHTY OHIO
Out of the 57 marathons I have finished, running with 90-year-old Mike Fremont in the November 11th Marshall University marathon was one of the most AMAZING and most MEMORABLE experiences in my life. Please share this blog with those you care about.
I knew it would happen. I knew Mike could do it. I also knew six hours would take us into the warm, warm afternoon. Random thoughts like these flitted around in my head as we prepared to begin the marathon.
With the temperature at the start hovering around 40 – ideal weather for beginning a 26.2 mile adventure on the road – Mike told me that he felt good, good enough to allow me to capture his pre-race excitement on video, which I’ll later post on YouTube and on our website. But, at 90, he knew that he didn’t have the power of even two years ago when, at 88, he set the marathon record of just over six hours at the hilly Cincinnati Flying Pig marathon.
Yes, the race course of the Marshall University marathon is much flatter than the Pig’s. Let’s face it: hilly courses are usually more difficult than their flatter counterparts. So the course and the weather seemed to be in Mike’s favor. Nay, I know not seems, madam – so the line goes in Shakespeare’s Hamlet, reminding me of the age-old theme of appearance versus reality.
Mike wasn’t always a runner. He never ran for his high school team, nor in college at Yale, nor as a young adult. Eventually he married and then tragedy struck: his wife died, leaving him with three children under five when he was only 35. Life sometimes doesn’t seem fair. Yet, rather than mope and feel sorry for himself, he took up running as therapy and he found solace in both the solitude and camaraderie that running offers.
Eventually he began running races, though, being in his late 30s, his peak competitive days were long gone. (Most marathon champions are younger than 35.) But as he aged, he got better. He began to compete and he liked that aspect of running. He began to run marathons and started taking home age-bracket prizes. He had run every Flying Pig marathon until he injured his foot while tripping over a cord in his home in 2011. He qualified for and ran in many Boston marathons – his last one at the age of 83 in 2005. (Many runners try to qualify for Boston but sadly many never reach that pinnacle.) His personal best of 3:20 came in his 60s. Mike’s running portfolio resembled a fine wine: it improved with age.
Along the road, another personal tragedy struck when cancer hit him when he turned 70. Refusing surgery and chemotherapy, he slowed down to a less stressful lifestyle and adopted a plant-based diet. For two years it worked but then the cancer returned and he consented to surgery. That behind him, he stuck with his new lifestyle, avoiding meat and dairy products, which he attributes to his resilience. Twenty years later, at 90, he’s beaten the cancer. And he’s not afraid to continue running marathons or competing in long-distance canoe races, which he’s also done for decades. His lifestyle defies the perception of old age in America: rocking chairs, nursing homes, ill health, and decrepit appearance – a drain on society.
After decades of volunteering and starting a foundation to clean Ohio’s rivers, he continues his efforts to improve society by advocating a plant-based diet. His influence may be like a voice crying in the wilderness but the YouTube videos on our website will continue to remind us of the power of his presence for many years to come.
Fast forward to Sunday morning, November 11, 2012. Despite an injury, I decided to also run the marathon in Huntington and, after reading Amby Burfoot’s article on running streaks in RW, I opted to accompany Mike at his pace. With the exception of Pikes Peak marathon, I had never run a marathon in over five hours, let alone six. But I sensed that being with Mike in his attempt to set the record would be an unforgettable experience and maybe a once in a lifetime opportunity for me.
Dr. Tom Dannals, the founder of the Marshall University marathon and the director of HealthyHuntington.org, was kind enough to give Mike and me a chance to launch the LifeNuts vitality program at the marathon expo – just ahead of the pasta dinner. Dr. Dannals has tried for many years to elevate the health of Huntington’s residents but sadly it still lingers in the bottom ten in obesity rankings of US cities.
So, I hoped that city officials would also attend our presentation but alas none showed. Their loss. On the other hand I was overwhelmed that a crowd of about 120 filled the room with many runners having to stand in the back and sit on the floor. Many marathon runners, in the spirit of giving back for their gift of running, told us that they’d take LifeNuts back to their communities. Two runners, having driven ten hours from New Jersey, asked for permission to translate LifeNuts into Korean. Actually I was shocked to see so many runners with such enthusiasm towards LifeNuts.
But I must admit that, as at rock concerts, I was merely the opening act for Mike Fremont. He presented his secret to both his longevity and his ability to set marathon records: a plant-based diet. I argue that his stress management skills also play an important role. Afterwards, he was swarmed by runners, especially the pretty young ladies, for photographs. What a wonderful start for LifeNuts.
Now, back to Sunday morning. Dr. Jim, also of Cincinnati and a key figure in LifeNuts – since he was the one who introduced Mike to me – decided to join us. There we were – three chilled runners and two wives – trying to figure out, along with a few hundred others, where the start line was. With 15 minutes to go, we still didn’t know. But finally a start banner appeared and the shivering hordes flocked to it a few minutes before the gun went off at 7 A.M.
Jim took off, leaving Mike and me in the dust and making me a little sad that I couldn’t run with him. We’ve run a few marathons together but none recently. Torn between two friends, I think I made the right choice and I think Mike appreciated the company. I wondered quietly to myself if I would be so lucky to have a younger running companion when I’m older. One can only hope.
Our first mile, typically fueled by adrenaline, passed quickly: 12.5 minutes – a pace that would yield a five and a half hour marathon, well under the age record of 6:46 (90-94 age group) and 6:54 (90-year-old) that Mike was trying to break. I figured we’d take advantage of the crisp 40-degree temperature to bank some time before the 70s came in the afternoon. Lots of runners passed us and wished us well. The Huntington newspaper’s photo of Mike on its front page made them aware of him challenging a marathon record. They responded with the camaraderie that’s found in marathons: it’s you against the distance. All for one and one for all.
Mike’s wife Marilyn greeted us around mile 3 and carried my video camera which allowed me to record a video journal. At that point everybody was happy, though still cold: Mike wore a sweater and I wore a turtleneck. Running at such a slow pace doesn’t generate enough body heat as our frozen, uncovered hands testified. And fortunately there was enough cloud cover to prevent the sun from warming us.
As we ran into Ritter Park and along a gurgling, tree-lined stream, we were still cold, reminding me that the shade would be a blessing in the afternoon on this double-loop course. I tried to think of every positive thing to say, sticking to the theme of staying in a happy place each moment, another LifeNut trait. At this point many runners and walkers (half-marathoners and relay people, presumably) trailed us and, further ahead – near mile 8, the lead runner, escorted by a police motorcycle humming down the crushed limestone path (a bit much, I thought), passed by in good form. Only a few minutes later came a gray-haired runner, also clipping along well. I estimated they’d finish in about two and a half hours and wondered if the turtle would catch the rabbit. (The 45-year-old almost did, finishing only four seconds behind the 27-year-old’s winning 2:36:33). Must have been fun to watch that finish.
Soon after that we came upon a man with a dog doing his business next to a tree. Suddenly the dog lurched sideways, his big teeth bared, and jumped towards Mike for a bite of his skinny legs. Mike instinctively jerked forward, narrowly avoiding a bloody leg. He told me, “I’m OK, just a little bit of a leg cramp.” Great, just what we need at mile 9, I silently pondered. But he never mentioned the cramp over the next several miles. The world is full of surprises.
I knew it would happen. I knew Mike could do it. I also knew six hours would take us into the warm, warm afternoon. Random thoughts like these flitted around in my head as we prepared to begin the marathon.
With the temperature at the start hovering around 40 – ideal weather for beginning a 26.2 mile adventure on the road – Mike told me that he felt good, good enough to allow me to capture his pre-race excitement on video, which I’ll later post on YouTube and on our website. But, at 90, he knew that he didn’t have the power of even two years ago when, at 88, he set the marathon record of just over six hours at the hilly Cincinnati Flying Pig marathon.
Yes, the race course of the Marshall University marathon is much flatter than the Pig’s. Let’s face it: hilly courses are usually more difficult than their flatter counterparts. So the course and the weather seemed to be in Mike’s favor. Nay, I know not seems, madam – so the line goes in Shakespeare’s Hamlet, reminding me of the age-old theme of appearance versus reality.
Mike wasn’t always a runner. He never ran for his high school team, nor in college at Yale, nor as a young adult. Eventually he married and then tragedy struck: his wife died, leaving him with three children under five when he was only 35. Life sometimes doesn’t seem fair. Yet, rather than mope and feel sorry for himself, he took up running as therapy and he found solace in both the solitude and camaraderie that running offers.
Eventually he began running races, though, being in his late 30s, his peak competitive days were long gone. (Most marathon champions are younger than 35.) But as he aged, he got better. He began to compete and he liked that aspect of running. He began to run marathons and started taking home age-bracket prizes. He had run every Flying Pig marathon until he injured his foot while tripping over a cord in his home in 2011. He qualified for and ran in many Boston marathons – his last one at the age of 83 in 2005. (Many runners try to qualify for Boston but sadly many never reach that pinnacle.) His personal best of 3:20 came in his 60s. Mike’s running portfolio resembled a fine wine: it improved with age.
Along the road, another personal tragedy struck when cancer hit him when he turned 70. Refusing surgery and chemotherapy, he slowed down to a less stressful lifestyle and adopted a plant-based diet. For two years it worked but then the cancer returned and he consented to surgery. That behind him, he stuck with his new lifestyle, avoiding meat and dairy products, which he attributes to his resilience. Twenty years later, at 90, he’s beaten the cancer. And he’s not afraid to continue running marathons or competing in long-distance canoe races, which he’s also done for decades. His lifestyle defies the perception of old age in America: rocking chairs, nursing homes, ill health, and decrepit appearance – a drain on society.
After decades of volunteering and starting a foundation to clean Ohio’s rivers, he continues his efforts to improve society by advocating a plant-based diet. His influence may be like a voice crying in the wilderness but the YouTube videos on our website will continue to remind us of the power of his presence for many years to come.
Fast forward to Sunday morning, November 11, 2012. Despite an injury, I decided to also run the marathon in Huntington and, after reading Amby Burfoot’s article on running streaks in RW, I opted to accompany Mike at his pace. With the exception of Pikes Peak marathon, I had never run a marathon in over five hours, let alone six. But I sensed that being with Mike in his attempt to set the record would be an unforgettable experience and maybe a once in a lifetime opportunity for me.
Dr. Tom Dannals, the founder of the Marshall University marathon and the director of HealthyHuntington.org, was kind enough to give Mike and me a chance to launch the LifeNuts vitality program at the marathon expo – just ahead of the pasta dinner. Dr. Dannals has tried for many years to elevate the health of Huntington’s residents but sadly it still lingers in the bottom ten in obesity rankings of US cities.
So, I hoped that city officials would also attend our presentation but alas none showed. Their loss. On the other hand I was overwhelmed that a crowd of about 120 filled the room with many runners having to stand in the back and sit on the floor. Many marathon runners, in the spirit of giving back for their gift of running, told us that they’d take LifeNuts back to their communities. Two runners, having driven ten hours from New Jersey, asked for permission to translate LifeNuts into Korean. Actually I was shocked to see so many runners with such enthusiasm towards LifeNuts.
But I must admit that, as at rock concerts, I was merely the opening act for Mike Fremont. He presented his secret to both his longevity and his ability to set marathon records: a plant-based diet. I argue that his stress management skills also play an important role. Afterwards, he was swarmed by runners, especially the pretty young ladies, for photographs. What a wonderful start for LifeNuts.
Now, back to Sunday morning. Dr. Jim, also of Cincinnati and a key figure in LifeNuts – since he was the one who introduced Mike to me – decided to join us. There we were – three chilled runners and two wives – trying to figure out, along with a few hundred others, where the start line was. With 15 minutes to go, we still didn’t know. But finally a start banner appeared and the shivering hordes flocked to it a few minutes before the gun went off at 7 A.M.
Jim took off, leaving Mike and me in the dust and making me a little sad that I couldn’t run with him. We’ve run a few marathons together but none recently. Torn between two friends, I think I made the right choice and I think Mike appreciated the company. I wondered quietly to myself if I would be so lucky to have a younger running companion when I’m older. One can only hope.
Our first mile, typically fueled by adrenaline, passed quickly: 12.5 minutes – a pace that would yield a five and a half hour marathon, well under the age record of 6:46 (90-94 age group) and 6:54 (90-year-old) that Mike was trying to break. I figured we’d take advantage of the crisp 40-degree temperature to bank some time before the 70s came in the afternoon. Lots of runners passed us and wished us well. The Huntington newspaper’s photo of Mike on its front page made them aware of him challenging a marathon record. They responded with the camaraderie that’s found in marathons: it’s you against the distance. All for one and one for all.
Mike’s wife Marilyn greeted us around mile 3 and carried my video camera which allowed me to record a video journal. At that point everybody was happy, though still cold: Mike wore a sweater and I wore a turtleneck. Running at such a slow pace doesn’t generate enough body heat as our frozen, uncovered hands testified. And fortunately there was enough cloud cover to prevent the sun from warming us.
As we ran into Ritter Park and along a gurgling, tree-lined stream, we were still cold, reminding me that the shade would be a blessing in the afternoon on this double-loop course. I tried to think of every positive thing to say, sticking to the theme of staying in a happy place each moment, another LifeNut trait. At this point many runners and walkers (half-marathoners and relay people, presumably) trailed us and, further ahead – near mile 8, the lead runner, escorted by a police motorcycle humming down the crushed limestone path (a bit much, I thought), passed by in good form. Only a few minutes later came a gray-haired runner, also clipping along well. I estimated they’d finish in about two and a half hours and wondered if the turtle would catch the rabbit. (The 45-year-old almost did, finishing only four seconds behind the 27-year-old’s winning 2:36:33). Must have been fun to watch that finish.
Soon after that we came upon a man with a dog doing his business next to a tree. Suddenly the dog lurched sideways, his big teeth bared, and jumped towards Mike for a bite of his skinny legs. Mike instinctively jerked forward, narrowly avoiding a bloody leg. He told me, “I’m OK, just a little bit of a leg cramp.” Great, just what we need at mile 9, I silently pondered. But he never mentioned the cramp over the next several miles. The world is full of surprises.
STILL SMILING AT MILE 11
That happened at around nine o’clock and we had miles to go before we slept, to borrow a line from Robert Frost. An hour later, the sun had broken through the clouds and the temperature had climbed into the 50s. I was becoming warm but Mike still wore his sweater. Now we ran on city streets without the welcome shade of trees and, our pace slowing, we crossed the half-way point in 3:15. Mike wasn’t pleased with this and doubted he’d break the record or even finish. I told him about a trick I used in some marathons when I reached mile 21, which, to me, represents when the real marathon begins. By that time, the endurance, slow-twitch muscle fibers are mostly shot. However, the fast twitch fibers are raring to go: so I recruit those fellows to do their fair share. Mike didn’t say anything and just kept plodding along. I knew he was trying his best and I again tried to keep the conversation light-hearted.
Marilyn kept making regular stops, which was great since some of the water stations had been taken down on our second loop. Now, in either direction, it was only Mike, the road and its bright orange cones, and me. Nobody in front and nobody behind us. Lonely as hell for one runner but unashamedly vibrant with two crazies side by side. Our conversation never waned and flowed readily. We both forgot about the dog attack and ignored the cars whizzing by us at high rates of speed. And we felt somewhat protected by a police escort on our rear. Somewhat, I say, since, running ahead towards the well-policed intersections, I noted a blue van coming towards me at about 40 mph – with no apparent plan to stop since the light was green – until I put my hand up and, a second later, the policeman whirred around and blew his whistle. Mike, about ten yards behind me, head to the ground, never batted an eye.
Around mile 16, we saw a blue figure ahead and finally caught up to Mr. Tokyo, as I called Hajime Nishi, who indeed flew from Tokyo to run the MU marathon. “Why”, I asked him. His reply, albeit in broken English, still amazes me, “I am running 1,000 marathons in 270 different countries to promote world peace.” He told me that he has run in 72 countries so far and has done about 27 marathons this year. What else puzzled me about this chap?
Well, the temperature now was in the upper 60s and the sun beat on us without mercy. Tokyo wore a hat with a full flap on the sides and in the back and a long sleeved tight-fitting tech shirt, which, when I patted him on the back, felt drenched in sweat. And, for good measure, he had an monstrous and elaborate fanny pack with three large bottles of water and electrolyte drink and God only knows what else. I got tired just looking at his outfit.
He explained that he founded a company that developed copyrights and eventually became the sole licenser of US software in Japan. At 63, he could easily afford to fly around the world promoting world peace. I wondered why he kept it a secret.
We passed Mr. Tokyo and then he returned the favor, eventually pulling about 300 yards ahead of us. At that point, we figured, especially with the police car right behind us, we were the caboose. Dr. Dannals said there would be a bike rider to watch over us but, to this point, it was only Mike and me. And, then, not far from the re-entry into the shaded Ritter Park, we caught up with James from Delaware. James told us that he liked to run marathons but usually finished in last place. His gigantic beer belly gave a hint as to why. He also explained that he knew who Mike was (Didn’t everyone here?) and that he wanted to run a marathon when he, too, turned 90. I advised him to carefully study the LifeNuts website and, if he liked the program, to take it to city council in the small town of 6,000 where he lived in Delaware. He promised. I also hope that he looks at it for his own sake.
James couldn’t keep up with our torrid pace and fell behind as we flung our tired feet onto the limestone path along the creek in the beautiful city park. I remarked to Mike that decades ago Jim Fixx, convinced that he could eat a fat-laden diet as long as he could run sub-four-hour marathons and determined to prove Nathan Pritikin wrong, ended up during a training run on the side of Vermont road, stone cold dead of a heart attack at the young age of 52. Maybe LifeNuts will help James … and his community.
As we entered mile 20, even the shade from the tall oak trees couldn’t cool us. It was hot. Mike’s voice quivered as he looked at me, “I don’t want to disappoint you but I may not break the record. In fact, I’m thinking about not even finishing.” Gulp. What does one say to this, I asked myself. If I ever reach 90, could I complete a marathon in 70-degree weather? How could I ever know how he’s feeling since I’m 25 years younger and my leg muscles aren’t the least bit tired? We ran in silence for about 30 seconds before I gently explained that we'd come this far and we would finish but breaking the record wasn’t critical. From my standpoint I continued, being with him on this 26-mile endurance challenge on this hot day was the experience of a lifetime. And then I did what I often do in supremely desperate situations: I resorted to telling jokes.
He recalled the joke about the Harvard and Ohio State grads; so I skipped that one. And he liked Laura’s story about the three guys and their cars in heaven. Then I told the joke about the unlucky Irishman who quickly became lucky and then my favorite one about the dentist and the barber. Note: these are long jokes and the way I tell them drags them out even longer. Painfully long sometimes. But, Mike laughed easily as we passed by manned water stations and through the park. In fact, he returned some one-liners, real groaners, you know – to which I replied that he should have earned a living with Milton Berle and Jack Benny in Las Vegas. A real comedian, you are, Mike. Lifenuts have a sense of humor, one that prevents them from taking themselves too seriously. This trait surfaced every time I would warn Mike about a rough patch of broken pavement or a hidden curb. Yes, mother, I see it, came his frequent reply. Ha, ha.
Being an intelligent Yale graduate in mechanical engineering and being a survivor of both cancer and the tragic death of his first wife, Mike remembered (showing no brain shrinkage, a testament to an MRI-supported study recently reported in the medical journal, Neurology) that I mentioned that I’d show him how to recruit fast-twitch muscle fibers at mile 21, helping us to run a reverse split. By that time, his spirits lifted, he then became seriously resolute, saying that he would finish but would do it his way and would maintain his current pace. OK by me. I reassured him that we would set records. Him for the marathon and me for telling so many jokes. My guess is that Mike wanted to finish so that he wouldn’t have to put up with any more of them.
At mile 20 I knew that we were running 15-minute miles and our time to that mile was an even five hours. Do the math, Bob. If we could continue that pace, we’d run the final six miles in 90 minutes, allowing us to finish by 6:30, a good 15 minutes ahead of our goal. No sweat. No need to recruit those fast-twitch boys, I figured. Just shut up and keep moving, I told myself.
My only concern was the heat, especially as we emerged from the friendly shade of the park and headed once more down the sun-baked streets of Huntington. No problem: earlier in the run Mike explained that the heat didn’t bother him. So we trudged on. James, now the marathon’s caboose, was nowhere in sight. Mr. Tokyo was still ahead in the distance and the police escort now became a motorcycle in front (nice of him to share his fumes with us) and an unmarked police car behind us. The race director was taking good care of us.
Marilyn appeared just before mile 23 and brought along Laura, my dear wife whose MS prevents her from driving my car. Since they wouldn’t see us again until the finish line, Marilyn gave me the video camera for the final three miles.
And then, somewhere in mile 23, the promised biker appeared. Mark of Huntington rode along next to us, tossing out comments here and there while being careful not to hit a curb and crash. He also promised to take the LifeNuts program to Huntington’s newly elected mayor. The last mayor never responded, not even after I sent him a LifeNuts book.
We reached mile 24 at just past six hours. Two more to go but, with the punishing sun, the temperature felt like 75. Half-way through this mile our friend Jim, fresh from a shower (he finished in 4:09), joined us, another welcome distraction. C’mon Mike, think about something besides your pain, your aching legs, the oppressive heat, I thought to myself. I knew he was struggling. Jim added a new dimension to our group, eliminating the need for me to tell any more funnies.
We hit mile 25. Now only about 15 more minutes until a new American record would be set, a testament to a life well lived, a courageous man, and a healthy lifestyle – one that saved his life and has inspired a new community-based vitality program. Mike looked the same: his frame tilted to his right, as he explained to me – because he was used to carrying a heavy briefcase in his right hand. To others he would appear lop-sided, ready to fall over. To me he looked just fine.
We crossed the main road and headed into the tranquil and tree-filled campus of Marshall, greeted by Dr. Tom Dannals who ran along with us, adding more distraction and swelling our ranks to four runners and a biker. Tom pointed out scenes shot during filming of We Are Marshall, the movie commemorating the airplane crash of its football team. With less than a quarter mile left, the excitement grew. What a great feeling, this new record and on such a hot day, I thought, as I ran ahead, carrying the traditional football down the 100 yards of soft astro-turf on Marshall’s football field. It’s not often a skinny old man like me can carry a football down a Division I team’s gridiron.
Marilyn kept making regular stops, which was great since some of the water stations had been taken down on our second loop. Now, in either direction, it was only Mike, the road and its bright orange cones, and me. Nobody in front and nobody behind us. Lonely as hell for one runner but unashamedly vibrant with two crazies side by side. Our conversation never waned and flowed readily. We both forgot about the dog attack and ignored the cars whizzing by us at high rates of speed. And we felt somewhat protected by a police escort on our rear. Somewhat, I say, since, running ahead towards the well-policed intersections, I noted a blue van coming towards me at about 40 mph – with no apparent plan to stop since the light was green – until I put my hand up and, a second later, the policeman whirred around and blew his whistle. Mike, about ten yards behind me, head to the ground, never batted an eye.
Around mile 16, we saw a blue figure ahead and finally caught up to Mr. Tokyo, as I called Hajime Nishi, who indeed flew from Tokyo to run the MU marathon. “Why”, I asked him. His reply, albeit in broken English, still amazes me, “I am running 1,000 marathons in 270 different countries to promote world peace.” He told me that he has run in 72 countries so far and has done about 27 marathons this year. What else puzzled me about this chap?
Well, the temperature now was in the upper 60s and the sun beat on us without mercy. Tokyo wore a hat with a full flap on the sides and in the back and a long sleeved tight-fitting tech shirt, which, when I patted him on the back, felt drenched in sweat. And, for good measure, he had an monstrous and elaborate fanny pack with three large bottles of water and electrolyte drink and God only knows what else. I got tired just looking at his outfit.
He explained that he founded a company that developed copyrights and eventually became the sole licenser of US software in Japan. At 63, he could easily afford to fly around the world promoting world peace. I wondered why he kept it a secret.
We passed Mr. Tokyo and then he returned the favor, eventually pulling about 300 yards ahead of us. At that point, we figured, especially with the police car right behind us, we were the caboose. Dr. Dannals said there would be a bike rider to watch over us but, to this point, it was only Mike and me. And, then, not far from the re-entry into the shaded Ritter Park, we caught up with James from Delaware. James told us that he liked to run marathons but usually finished in last place. His gigantic beer belly gave a hint as to why. He also explained that he knew who Mike was (Didn’t everyone here?) and that he wanted to run a marathon when he, too, turned 90. I advised him to carefully study the LifeNuts website and, if he liked the program, to take it to city council in the small town of 6,000 where he lived in Delaware. He promised. I also hope that he looks at it for his own sake.
James couldn’t keep up with our torrid pace and fell behind as we flung our tired feet onto the limestone path along the creek in the beautiful city park. I remarked to Mike that decades ago Jim Fixx, convinced that he could eat a fat-laden diet as long as he could run sub-four-hour marathons and determined to prove Nathan Pritikin wrong, ended up during a training run on the side of Vermont road, stone cold dead of a heart attack at the young age of 52. Maybe LifeNuts will help James … and his community.
As we entered mile 20, even the shade from the tall oak trees couldn’t cool us. It was hot. Mike’s voice quivered as he looked at me, “I don’t want to disappoint you but I may not break the record. In fact, I’m thinking about not even finishing.” Gulp. What does one say to this, I asked myself. If I ever reach 90, could I complete a marathon in 70-degree weather? How could I ever know how he’s feeling since I’m 25 years younger and my leg muscles aren’t the least bit tired? We ran in silence for about 30 seconds before I gently explained that we'd come this far and we would finish but breaking the record wasn’t critical. From my standpoint I continued, being with him on this 26-mile endurance challenge on this hot day was the experience of a lifetime. And then I did what I often do in supremely desperate situations: I resorted to telling jokes.
He recalled the joke about the Harvard and Ohio State grads; so I skipped that one. And he liked Laura’s story about the three guys and their cars in heaven. Then I told the joke about the unlucky Irishman who quickly became lucky and then my favorite one about the dentist and the barber. Note: these are long jokes and the way I tell them drags them out even longer. Painfully long sometimes. But, Mike laughed easily as we passed by manned water stations and through the park. In fact, he returned some one-liners, real groaners, you know – to which I replied that he should have earned a living with Milton Berle and Jack Benny in Las Vegas. A real comedian, you are, Mike. Lifenuts have a sense of humor, one that prevents them from taking themselves too seriously. This trait surfaced every time I would warn Mike about a rough patch of broken pavement or a hidden curb. Yes, mother, I see it, came his frequent reply. Ha, ha.
Being an intelligent Yale graduate in mechanical engineering and being a survivor of both cancer and the tragic death of his first wife, Mike remembered (showing no brain shrinkage, a testament to an MRI-supported study recently reported in the medical journal, Neurology) that I mentioned that I’d show him how to recruit fast-twitch muscle fibers at mile 21, helping us to run a reverse split. By that time, his spirits lifted, he then became seriously resolute, saying that he would finish but would do it his way and would maintain his current pace. OK by me. I reassured him that we would set records. Him for the marathon and me for telling so many jokes. My guess is that Mike wanted to finish so that he wouldn’t have to put up with any more of them.
At mile 20 I knew that we were running 15-minute miles and our time to that mile was an even five hours. Do the math, Bob. If we could continue that pace, we’d run the final six miles in 90 minutes, allowing us to finish by 6:30, a good 15 minutes ahead of our goal. No sweat. No need to recruit those fast-twitch boys, I figured. Just shut up and keep moving, I told myself.
My only concern was the heat, especially as we emerged from the friendly shade of the park and headed once more down the sun-baked streets of Huntington. No problem: earlier in the run Mike explained that the heat didn’t bother him. So we trudged on. James, now the marathon’s caboose, was nowhere in sight. Mr. Tokyo was still ahead in the distance and the police escort now became a motorcycle in front (nice of him to share his fumes with us) and an unmarked police car behind us. The race director was taking good care of us.
Marilyn appeared just before mile 23 and brought along Laura, my dear wife whose MS prevents her from driving my car. Since they wouldn’t see us again until the finish line, Marilyn gave me the video camera for the final three miles.
And then, somewhere in mile 23, the promised biker appeared. Mark of Huntington rode along next to us, tossing out comments here and there while being careful not to hit a curb and crash. He also promised to take the LifeNuts program to Huntington’s newly elected mayor. The last mayor never responded, not even after I sent him a LifeNuts book.
We reached mile 24 at just past six hours. Two more to go but, with the punishing sun, the temperature felt like 75. Half-way through this mile our friend Jim, fresh from a shower (he finished in 4:09), joined us, another welcome distraction. C’mon Mike, think about something besides your pain, your aching legs, the oppressive heat, I thought to myself. I knew he was struggling. Jim added a new dimension to our group, eliminating the need for me to tell any more funnies.
We hit mile 25. Now only about 15 more minutes until a new American record would be set, a testament to a life well lived, a courageous man, and a healthy lifestyle – one that saved his life and has inspired a new community-based vitality program. Mike looked the same: his frame tilted to his right, as he explained to me – because he was used to carrying a heavy briefcase in his right hand. To others he would appear lop-sided, ready to fall over. To me he looked just fine.
We crossed the main road and headed into the tranquil and tree-filled campus of Marshall, greeted by Dr. Tom Dannals who ran along with us, adding more distraction and swelling our ranks to four runners and a biker. Tom pointed out scenes shot during filming of We Are Marshall, the movie commemorating the airplane crash of its football team. With less than a quarter mile left, the excitement grew. What a great feeling, this new record and on such a hot day, I thought, as I ran ahead, carrying the traditional football down the 100 yards of soft astro-turf on Marshall’s football field. It’s not often a skinny old man like me can carry a football down a Division I team’s gridiron.
THE FINISH: 6:35:47 and still smiling!
Now, positioned with my video camera just past the finish line and wearing my finisher’s medal around my neck, I steadied my hands to record Mike’s final 50 yards. Thrilling to see and so fortunate to capture for generations to come. A while back, when I asked Mr. Tokyo why he was so intent to complete his thousand-marathon project, he explained that it was for future generations. He got it.
And so did Mike, still standing and cordial enough to smile into the camera with a short explanation that summarized his day and his heroic effort, “I finished.” Cameras went off left and right. Everyone wanted their photo taken with Mike, even a young teenaged runner who wore a marathon medal. I neglected to ask her how old she was. But she hung around for a long time to have her photo with Mike. Maybe she’ll run a LifeNuts program in her community someday – as I hope you will, dear reader.
Eventually I’ll put together all the miles I recorded on that epic run and post a YouTube video onto our website. I think it will be worth your while to look at it. Maybe in a few weeks. I’ll also ask Mike to do a guest blog for LifeNuts, explaining his secrets. Stay tuned.
And so did Mike, still standing and cordial enough to smile into the camera with a short explanation that summarized his day and his heroic effort, “I finished.” Cameras went off left and right. Everyone wanted their photo taken with Mike, even a young teenaged runner who wore a marathon medal. I neglected to ask her how old she was. But she hung around for a long time to have her photo with Mike. Maybe she’ll run a LifeNuts program in her community someday – as I hope you will, dear reader.
Eventually I’ll put together all the miles I recorded on that epic run and post a YouTube video onto our website. I think it will be worth your while to look at it. Maybe in a few weeks. I’ll also ask Mike to do a guest blog for LifeNuts, explaining his secrets. Stay tuned.
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