By David Bond

Celebrating The River To River Relay

A poet-friend of mine once remarked that "poems outside of poetry" are happening all around us; that there's a great loss of immediacy in the translation from action to page or canvass; that "the moment of the poem is different from the moment of the world." I agree-we can't, after all, capture time, and perhaps that's what makes a song, story, painting or poem that much more important and, at times, frustrating. Today I want to celebrate, however inadequately, an event that has affected all of you runners. I could editorialize about the feelings of accomplishment, the camaraderie, sense of play, discovery and actually living that makes up the River To River Relay, and running in general, but you already know that. Let's do something different.

Up until the last few years, I jotted down a few notes "on the road," as our local (Pinckneyville & Duquoin) running club, Pyramid Running Club, participated in each year's Relay. Indeed, I could say we're a unique entity, having run every Relay, plus the "practice run," in October of 1987, following as Gordon Pitz, Pete Carroll and others decided on the route to be followed the following spring. We had a map to guide us, well, sort of a map, and we hoped to be able to negotiate even the trail running of the Shawnee forest without much trouble. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Here are the notes, not every year's, but some of the more memorable ones. Hope you enjoy them.

1987: The October Relay Warm-up-The Search For Griz

*****Fighting vicious dogs most of the way, we were still doing great until the last leg for Runner 1. This took our lead runner, in this case Gary Grizzell, into the heart of the Shawnee National Forest on a trail that was, in Gary's words, "marked by someone with an evil heart, a real $#%&*!!" In other words, he suspected John Metzger. Whoever's to blame, ol' Griz became lost and for a few hours we drove up and down dozens of dirt and gravel roads, yelling for our missing runner. We certainly hoped he wasn't sick or injured. More importantly, we were losing valuable time, as we wanted to complete the course by dark. Gary did turn up, just at sunset, wandering out of Camp Ondassonk, smiling as if nothing was wrong. (Editor's Note: Sometime later I heard the bizarre tale involving a Girl Scout troop, a group of high school cheerleaders, a Pentecostal choir, and a creature identified only as "like Bigfoot in running shorts," but that was probably just a coincidence.) Out of daylight and patience, we drove the last third of the course to Golconda, depriving me of the pleasure of attacking the last section of Leg 6.

1988: Eighty Miles Is A Long, Long Way

*****The entry fee for the inaugural Relay was $74; the information booklet, 6 pages long. The hero of our team that year was probably Chuck Logan, a lanky, over-40 runner who could still run a 4:30 mile (as he did at the Herrinfest that same spring), yet known to all of us as slightly unconventional and very competitive. Paul Atwood can attest to the story become myth of Chuck's finishing kick at the Love Your Heart 5 Mile. Running stride for stride with Paul, Chuck's upper plate suddenly burst from his mouth like a bad scene from The Exorcist, bounced high enough off the pavement that Chuck could simply snatch the runaway denture, jam it back into place without slowing in the least. Paul still insists he would have out-kicked Chuck if he hadn't been laughing so hard during the last 50 yards! Chuck also has the scars from trying to beat a wheelchair competitor into the chute at Popeye's. But what all Pyramid Runners know about Chuck is that on training runs he often chewed tobacco and many times would show up for a race looking like a cigarette commercial. What I recall in particular that first year are the reactions of several runners as each painfully finished his Relay section, having been blown past, "smoked" you might say, by Chuck Logan-the look of incredulity on each face as Chuck watched them come into the exchange area, then congratulated each one, relaxing with a Gatoraide in one hand, a Marlboro in the other. I had high hopes of running Leg 6 but my guru informed me "the karma just isn't right this year." Next year, I rule!

1991: We Hit Warp Speed

*****Thanks to our two last-minute "alternates," Russ Hampleman and Steve Sawyer, we went under 8 hours for the first and only time. As Steve flew down Pine Hill on the Relays' first leg at under 5 minute pace, I can still hear Charlie Stinson's perverse prediction-"if you guys can just keep that up, you'll have a new course record!" This breakneck speed had mixed blessings, however. There just wasn't much time for visiting old friends at later exchanges or for watching a particular unnamed women's team undress, a team oblivious to the inherent properties of a van's dark window glass. Russ, being the strongest hill runner, snatched Leg 6 away from me! Well, there's always next year.

1992: Eight Men and a Massage Therapist

*****This was memorable for the heat in the later stages. We ran well (8:06), perhaps in part thanks to Shirley, a massage therapist and friend of Steve Gregory. Shirley kept our muscles loose and spirits high. Our team dueled the Wandering Walukis all day, finishing just behind them in 16th place overall. Aaron knocked down several members of another team running together down the main street of Golconda as he finished. Excuse me! We became acclimated to the real spirit of the relay with the appropriate post-race nourishment: bratwursts, funnel cakes, and Budweisers. Steve threatened to join the Fabulous Flying Fardels, just to have their signature t-shirt. Unfortunately, I pulled a muscle in my back a few days previous and was forced to run a more level leg than that which I had been so diligently training-again I miss Leg 6.

1995: The Van From Hell

*****We ran slower than usual, but that year's claim to fame was our mode of transportation. Lee Smith, 250+ pounds of running thunder, affectionately called "The Big Dog," had promised us a van and well, it was a van. Remember the old 60's Chevy model, lightning bolts hand-painted on the sides, little round windows, shiny chrome wheels, and so forth? Imagine leaving that van out in the middle of a field for 25 or so years and you might have some idea of our relay vehicle. The outside, long ago heavily bondoed and optimistically primered, was so sad, sort of like a groom left waiting at the altar. The inside had only one permanent seat-the driver's, thank God. The rest was customized with a miscellany of plywood, cracked plastic chairs from Dollar General, and an moss-covered concrete park bench. I think it was the bench that attracted most of the runners who crowded around us at each exchange to peer curiously inside. Thinking back, we should have charged a fee. Steve Gregory and I each finished his 8th relay, although a head cold prevented my conquering the hills of Leg 6.

1996: The New York Connection

*****Steve ran with his wife's St. Louis team, so we were forced to find a last-minute replacement. This turned out to be Jenna Bailey, a librarian from New York who I wasn't quite sure would fit in with our team or even finish the course. She had an immediate effect by loaning Brad Olson a highly-medicated powder which he applied to his groin area with alarming results. Aaron had a hang-over and Glen decided to join the Navy after running Leg 6. Yes, he was able to use his highly persuasive, almost hypnotic, oratorical powers to dissuade me from vanquishing those long-anticipated plateaus of pain. Oh, well, I'm in this for the long haul-next year they're mine! Jenna did finish the course.

(To Be Continued)

Here's a poem by James Oppenheim titled The Runner In The Skies

Who is the runner in the skies,

With her blowing scarf of stars,

And our Earth and sun hovering like bees about her blossoming heart?

Her feet are on the winds, where space is deep,

Her eyes are nebulous and veiled,