800m: I've tasted it, now I'm hungry.

 

I have watched athletes since I was a child. God forbid that I should idolize them, but a few have moved me to put my own body in motion.

As I write this post, there is snow outside here in Cleveland. Where I grew up near Chicago there was snow, too. If you grew up in Chicago, what were you thinking when you, like me, piled snow high in your backyard? Okay, you were going to sled down it, but what then? You were going to dive over it into the end zone just like … Walter Payton. And I did—a hundred times. I moved to Massachusetts, near Boston…need I say more?—I was moved to hike a mile in the winter with my basketball to the school court, shovel it off, and shoot the ball till my hands went numb. There is no need for me to state his name—you know who he is.

Likewise, I cannot get this man out of my mind. There is much for me to see in this particular run, and I will say no more than Rudisha never lost form. Yet he is not my favorite runner, however. My favorite runner is JAAN PIRN.

Today I ran my first 800m race ever—I wanted to move my body like Rudisha—who cares if I'm 59?—and Jaan understood. We went outside and raced around a block that Jaan had measured to be exactly … 800 m. He figured out the handicap and I started 36 sec. ahead of him. He passed me with 200 m to go. His form was good, and that was all I needed—keep that form and finish like Rudisha. My time was slow (4:11), but in my mind I was closer to two flat.