George Plimpton, who died in 2003 at the age of 76, was known for his many accomplishments. I would like to focus on his athletic endeavors with professional sports teams. Over his career he: pitched a half inning for the American League in Yankee Stadium in a post season exhibition game against the National League; sparred three rounds with boxing greats Archie Moore and Sugar Ray Robinson; played backup quarterback in a preseason game with the Detroit Lions; played a bit in an exhibition game with the Baltimore Colts football team; played as goalie in a preseason Boston Bruins ice hockey game; played with Jack Nicholas and Arnold Palmer on the Professional Golf Tour; was soundly beaten by Pancho Gonzales in tennis; and was even a high-wire circus performer. He used what he learned from these endeavors to write for Sports Illustrated and wrote books about sporting events from an amateur’s point of view.
If I tried any one of the above, I would make more of a fool of myself than all the other times combined in my lifetime (and that was quite a number). In a column on Aug. 18, I wrote an article trying to recruit runners for a 5K race for Izzy, a five-year-old boy who stopped breathing for a time when five months old and has brain damage, to raise funds for therapy expenses for him (www.izzyssuperman5k.com). Shortly thereafter, I received a request from a friend to participate in two 5Ks to raise funds for other charities. I agreed to participate in both of them if he would supply two runners/walkers for Izzy’s 5K. He and his wife agreed to participate, so I had no other choice than to participate in his 5Ks, the first of which was held at Christ Community Church of West Chester on Sept. 12. The goal of this 5K was to end human trafficking.
It just happened that I had been treadmilling regularly for more than two months, and I thought I could handle the 3.1 miles of the race. However, the last two weeks before the race, my body told me to stop treadmilling and rest, so I was very rusty. I arrived nearly an hour before the race to register and absorbed many scenes. First, I saw a man whose car was parked but he was pushing on the back of the car with vigor. I was all ready to run and help him so his car didn’t roll back over him when I realized he was limbering up! Then, I observed a fellow parked in a car near mine. As I walked back to my car a couple of times, I saw him get out of his car. He was a tall stringbean of a guy, probably in his very early 20s and for a half hour he pinched and tweaked his uniform so it was just right. The final minutes, he peered at his car window, fixing his hair just right, possibly to the place of least wind resistance? I knew this guy was serious! I did observe him after the race with a ribbon, which I assume was either first or second place.
From 1961 to 1998, ABC televised Wide World of Sports was anchored by Jim McKay. The program had the saying: “The Thrill of Victory… The Agony of Defeat.” Read on and I’ll let you know which category I fell under during the race.
As the race started, I was lacking much in confidence, especially when seeing the many hills we would have to traverse. While running up the second hill, I felt like a slow tortoise when considering its speed and age. Some tortoises live in excess of 150 years. Not good! But then I heard the footsteps behind me and a young girl holler: “Come on sir, you can do it!” I found out after the race her name was Ann, a senior in high school, who at my advanced age looked to be a freshman. When passing the two mile sign, I yelled to the official there to point the way that the large sign must be upside down because it seemed like five miles to me. Just then, a man named Gary caught up to me laughing at my comment. I told him it wasn’t that funny but rather it was true as far as how I felt. At that, he paced himself with me, encouraging me and giving me pointers before speeding off.
I also had advice whispered to me from my mentor, Beetle Bailey (you know, the pro I told you about a few months ago). He reminded me that when I was in the Army and had to run a mile in fatigues and combat boots that I should only run in second gear until the 30 yards before and after we reached the area where the Sergeants were that were yelling to us to hurry up. Thus, I saved enough wind to sprint the last 50 yards to the finish line. Boy did I look good (in my mind) crossing the finish line!
Defeat: My calves cramped up halfway through the race, but I managed to keep my body moving. I was 130 out of 189 runners, running at a pace of 11:50 per mile. An eight-year-old boy finished 45th and beat my total running time by 9:36. Today, two days after the race, I am supposed to be playing Bocce at the time I am writing this, but my wife had to substitute for me because I’m stiff from my hips to my ankles and can barely bend over.
Victory: I’m still alive. I finished the race. According to the printout of the race results, I was the oldest one in the race. However, the greatest reason why I am claiming victory is because I met people like Ann, Gary and others like Greg and Steve to make the race a wonderful experience.
Warning: Running can be dangerous! When I went to bed the night before the race, my thoughts were on my strategy on how to finish the race and not be last. I was awakened in the middle of the night moving my legs at a minimum of 60 miles an hour, fell out of the bed and knocked my head on the bedside table. I guess from now on I’ll obey the speed limit.
George Plimpton, I admire you!Jeff Hall, of Honey Brook, contributes columns to Berks-Mont Newspapers.
