September 10, 1979 (Monday)

From running log:
Cross country practice. Ran 5.9 miles in the grass fields behind the high school. 1 mile warmup, 4 mile workout, 0.9 mile cooldown. We did some 880 yard intervals in the grass, 8 of them. I ran them all between 2:37 and 2:59. Cool, damp day. My legs tightened up during the 880s. I also felt kind of weak, like I was getting a cold. Hopefully my body can fight it off. Cooler weather ahead. Knees fine, hip stiff, not too sore. Whirlpooled it. Beat Connors!

30 years later:
Those grass fields behind the high school are a bit smaller these days, taken up with an expansion of the school, a track, a football field, tennis courts ... sigh. In 1979 it was a sort of large prairie, mostly-mowed, wide open and essentially flat. These kind of workouts run entirely on grass made us all think about Charlie Nelson, our friend and teammate who had passed away only a few months earlier. Charlie was a sort of natural runner, one who came easily to it and never took it very seriously. I don't mean that he didn't care, or that he just goofed off. What I mean is that he didn't fret, obsess, or carefully orchestrate his running. He was spontaneous, unorthodox. He loved to run barefoot in the grass. None of us would take our shoes off. After all, we'd paid big money for our running shoes, and besides running barefoot kind of hurt. Not for Charlie. He couldn't wait to peel off his shoes and socks and start prancing on the grass. Doing so brought him simple joy, the happiness of creative play. Charlie was able to make every workout some kind of adventure.

I wish I could say that, in his memory, I had run this workout barefoot. I couldn't do it, I was afraid I'd cut my feet or maybe get injured. Besides, you can read my whiny complaints and know that I wasn't able to be as light-hearted about running as my friend Charlie had been. I should have learned more from him. The truth is, as the years have passed, I think I have done just that. I love running in the woods (so did Charlie) and when I'm feeling great and I have some time, I will happily turn off the known trail just to see what's around the bend of the next, something Charlie would always do. And I've learned not to fret so much, particularly not to worry about my competitors so intently as I used to. One last thing that I do in Charlie's memory: puddle stomping. When it rained, Charlie made it a point to leap into and splash through every puddle along the route, laughing and snorting all the way. We dreaded running on rainy days, he looked forward to it. So, when I can, I take aim at a few puddles on my rainy runs and laugh to myself and to his influence on me. Thank you Charlie. I'll always miss you.