Read enough running magazines and inevitably you’ll see an article that promises to lead you to that elusive Best Run Ever .
It got me thinking: Which runs were my best ever? Lace up your trainers and lets take a jog down memory lane; revisit those run where it all came together. These are my BEST runs ever.
Homecoming
What, in particular, makes a run the best?
18 years old. I toed the line for my homecoming 5k. The previous day I had 2 AP science tests, an English quiz, organized the school pep rally and that nights homecoming dance.
I stepped to the starting line mentally fried.
This was my last race on the home course. That Summer I’d planned an all out assault on the school record of 15:45 for 3.1 miles; but tests, dances, pep rallies etc got in the way. Not to mention that morning I realized my spikes had plastic soles that would undoubtedly slip on our 60% concrete course. I went to Foot Locker that morning. They had one rubber soulled pair, but they were a bit too small. I wore them anyway. That decision cost me every toe nail on both feet.
There was, in any event, too much going against me. I would run faster than last year’s disappointing 16:39, but I decided the record was likely out of reach, so I just ran. The gun sounded and I ran the first mile in 4:50. I ran through 2 miles in under 10:00 and began to lap other runners. It was, in a word, effortless.
Something special was happening. There was a HUGE crowd of people around for homecoming; not there to watch me specifically, but they cheered loudly as I passed. I was having a moment.
I finished in 15:43. School record.
Some runs are great for the experience.
Speed Demon
I was 21 and had qualified provisionally for Nationals in my first indoor 1500 meter run. I had run one of the fastest times in D3 so far that season, and I had several fast meets ahead to improve it.
Then I took ill. Turns out that if you run 80+ miles a week in the Maine winter you may get sick (3 for 3: 3 winters in Maine, 3 bad bouts of flu. My advice to all college bound high school seniors: go somewhere warm).
Heading into my final meet I needed to run a big PR to qualify for Nationals. I mapped it out lap by lap: 31.2, 62.4, 1:03.6, 2:04.8. I was going to hit each even split. No doubt in my mind. Whenever I second guessed myself my mind reverted right back to the splits: 31.2, 62.4…
I recited it in the dining hall.
The bathroom.
English class.
I knew my splits cold.
Race day came. SUPER fast start. Sub 60 for the quarter, 1:56 for the half (a PR!). I broke the school record for 1000 meters by 3 seconds; and I still had 500 meters left to run.
Self doubt crept in. The splits were a mess. I’d run too fast too early. My inner voice started spewing excuses:
You’ve been sick.
You’re not a track guy.
The field is too fast.
I remember the exact moment I fought back. “You know what it will feel like if you don’t go. So go.”
I ran 3:52 high for 1500 meters. My personal best by 4 seconds.
Some runs are best for the speed.
Running under the influence
I was 27 and drunk on the first floor of Clery’s. I followed my friend to the downstairs bar. Remember, I was a little drunk.
And woozy.
I fell down a flight of stairs. Miraculously, I didn’t hurt anything.
Earlier that night I was talking to a girl who I remember being as attractive one moment, less attractive the next. Like that Seinfeld Episode. I didn’t get her number, and can’t remember her name.
What I did remember was that she was leaving the bar early to run a race the next morning. The race started right around the corner from my apartment.
I staggered home around 2 am.
7 am the next morning. Despite the late night I was AWAKE and could not fall back asleep. No matter how tight I squeezed my eyes I was not falling back asleep.
What the hell, I thought? I’ll run this race and hopefully get a semi sober look at this girl.
She didn’t show up.
Or maybe she did and I was THAT drunk.
This race was great for 3 reasons. Firstly, despite a mild hangover I won the race. Secondly, I got a personal Police escort as I ran uncontested down Comm Ave in Boston. Thirdly, I won this race despite falling drunkenly down a flight of stairs 6 hours previous.
Many runners have won races. Some, no doubt, have won a race while somewhat inebriated. Some have gotten a Police escort. But winning a race while hung over, after falling down a flight of stairs and getting a Police Escort, who’s done that?
Some runs are best for the story.
The Rock Run
2nd place at a race no one remembers, but it was magic! I was 31 and running the Rock Run with some friends.
The Rock Run is a beach relay around the circumference of Nantucket. 50 miles, 5 legs, 5 runners.
We had 4.
One of our guys ditched us to be on another team. Benedict Arnold (we’re now friends). This meant someone on my team was running 2 legs. I was already running the longest leg of the race.
No problem. My teammate John was training for an Ironman. He could take the extra miles, and if he didn’t my teammate George ran ultras, 50 to 100 miles at a time. He would take the miles, no problem.
I ran the long leg: a 12 mile trek through deep sand that caved away underneath your feet. It felt like driving through wet cement on bald tires. The loose sand gave way underfoot with every step. The packed sand tire tracks cut by off roading jeeps gave the only sort of purchase in the sand. The heat was unrelenting.
With one leg left we had a slight lead over the 5 man Benedict Arnold team.
John and George looked at me.
‘We need to beat them.’
‘You give us the best chance’
‘You’ve got this.’
20 Miles on the Beach
I reluctantly took the baton for the final 8 miles, unsure of the size of my lead. The sand was stiffer on this section of beach. I could run a little faster, but so could my opponent: a High school track star who won the Florida state 2 mile championship that Spring. His legs were fresh. My legs, as stated above, were not. Not even close.
Never look over your shoulder while racing.
If you do you’re lunch meat.
I managed a decent pace given that I was running miles 13 through 20. I passed beach goers, heard them clap politely, and then I’d listen intently, waiting for a clap to announce my pursuer; it wasn’t looking over my shoulder at any rate. All this time I dreaded hearing that clap; hearing it meant I’d have to race and, as I have noted, I was in no shape for that. I’d run strongly for 5 miles when I passed a family picnicking on a deserted stretch of beach. They clapped politely. My ears pricked: Nothing. Time passed, then faintly, I heard the dreaded clapping.
‘Go get him.’
Sell outs.
The race was on. I desperately wanted to look back and gauge the distance, but that would be a capitulation. We passed more beach goers; the clapping coming sooner; and sooner still. Now leg pain and fatigue notwithstanding, I was having fun, and that kept me loose. That’s been a theme across all these best runs: enjoying the moment in spite of discomfort.
I hung in and held him off by about :08 seconds.
Sometimes the best runs are slow and painful, but fun.
Pure Magic
I was 17 and I went for an 8 mile training run. This was before modern work out gear. No wicking, or rain resistant jackets. We wore cotton.
When I left the house it was cloudy and probably around 35 degrees outside.
A mile in it began to rain. Just a mist, kind of pleasant actually, but enough to soak through my cotton sweatshirt over the next 7 miles.
The temperature dropped; The misty rain became flurries of snowflakes; the moisture froze on the tree branches. I can still clearly see the tall pine trees that lined the side of Oak street, shimmering with new formed ice.
I drove that stretch recently. It’s been 30 years since I was last there. The first thing to come to mind was how those trees looked.
When I got home my cotton sweatshirt was frozen stiff. I had to punch it to break up the ice before I could take it off.
Later on I tried explaing what happened to a few friends. They just shrugged, ‘That sucks’.
No one understood.
Some runs are the best because they’re magic, but don’t expect anyone to get it.
I’ve had many other fast runs, many runs that created a moment, a story, or were just plain fun. There were great runs in my teens, my twenties and now my thirties.
But when asked which one is the best I borrow Stevie Wonder’s answer to the question ‘What’s the best song you’ve ever written.’
Stevie: ‘I haven’t written it yet’.
And he wrote ‘As’.
What’s my best run?
I haven’t run it yet.