Footprints

by Budd Glassberg

Reprinted with permission from the Zionsville Times Sentinel on October 17, 2007

Tagging Along for the Ride

It was very pleasant on Sunday morning. I was about seven miles into my run and had just ventured back on the rail-trail after taking a detour through a previously unexplored housing development. While listening to a podcast of Car Talk, I was quickly passed by a runner also wearing headphones. In my younger, immature days, I might have cued up behind this runner and stayed right at his pace for a few miles. In those days, I was extremely competitive and often would take offense at being passed by anyone whether on a speed workout or a long slow distance day. Having aged and mellowed over the years, I no longer feel the need to race in my training. My inclination is to let the young speedsters go while I take a more relaxed run. I can’t really explain why, but for some odd reason, I sped up and got right behind this young man.

We ran this way, single file, at a pace clearly two and a half minutes faster than my nine minute per mile pace before he had arrived. Several minutes passed before he noticed my presence. He did not acknowledge that I was there, nor did I pull up next to him to run and converse. I had no idea how far he had been running or where he was heading. With both of us wearing headphones, neither would hear the other even if one of us had the inclination to say something. Without the social obligations associated with running with another human, we would communicate only with our pace.

There is an unusual phenomenon when running the exact pace of another. It is somewhat akin to magnetism. As the trailing runner, I almost felt as though I was being pulled along by the pace of my partner. My running became effortless. I felt like I was being pulled along by his strength. If I was to try this pace while running alone, I’d have been out of breath in ten minutes. Instead, I was still going strong nearly three miles into the duel. I felt like I was 30 years old again. Making a mental contract to stay with this runner as long as he stayed on the trail and kept up this pace, I settled in to the rhythm of our steps. His feet in typical running shoes while mine wearing only the thin soles of a homemade pair of running sandals. Concentrating on my running form, my footsteps were nearly inaudible and certainly were not heard by the leader wearing his headphones.

As a cross-country coach, I am attuned to observing running form in others. I noticed my leader was a heel striker with his left foot splayed to the ten o’clock position rather than pointing straight ahead. I estimated his cadence to be about 160 steps per minute. I was at 180 steps per minute. For the two of us to be running at the same pace, that meant his stride was longer than mine. This is not unusual due to my short stature, but our difference in leg length would not have equated to 20 steps per minute difference. I surmised that he was over striding. My pacer periodically would look at his watch, something I used to do often. I probably would have looked at mine too, but on Sunday I was not wearing a watch. I thought about how much more I enjoyed this run without one.

As we continued, there were several of my running friends coming toward us who waved to me as we passed. Both my partner and I returned the gesture. Approaching the ramp, I wondered if he planned to take it down to Starkey Park. I soon found out that he was not. As I turned right while he continued straight, I yelled to be heard above his headphone sounds, “Thanks for the ride.”

He stopped and asked me my name. We conversed for a while. His name is Randy and he is relatively new to Zionsville. He wondered if I run on the trail every Sunday. I assured him that we would meet on the trail again. I continued down the ramp while he headed back on the straight-a-way of Nancy Burton Memorial Park.

It is funny how sometimes how a chance random decision can make a difference in your routine and change an everyday long slow distance run into an absolutely magnificent workout. It also serves as a clear reminder that life presents adventure in the most regular of circumstances, but it takes some effort in order to find it.

Budd Glassberg lives and works in Zionsville and is a 23 year resident of the community. Visit www.runz.com for reprints of all his columns. You can reach him by email at budd@runz.com.