NEWSLETTER CONTENTS - Marathon Maniacs

R H E T O R I C A L R E V E L A T I O N S A N D W ( R I T E S ) …
F R O M T H E R A M B U N C T I O U S R E V
{To Rookies of the MarathonManiacs - A few years ago, when there were less than 500 of us, we asked Rev,
#48, to share some thoughts in the newsletter because, well, he was a few things we are not. He is from the
east coast. He is old…ok, not that old, but… he is creaky. And, we never get to talk to him after he finishes
races, because, well, because we’re usually home by then. But he seemed so mesmerized by what we do in the
club, we figured better to let him make fun of us than people who don’t try to run. So we let him write. One
more thing: management is not responsible for the opinions of Rev.}
Dear “Negative 1!”
Monte Pascual! How are you, my new friend? Man, I’m glad Prez, Mr. Member # 1 himself, introduced us in Yakima last weekend! You know, you do look like
his twin! Aww, it’s a compliment! What a coincidence having two positive guys who look alike wearing the yellow singlet! Cool moniker, Monte. “Negative 1!”
So I usually write to Prez this time of the month to keep in touch, but thanks to some friends of ours, the Mrs. and I made the trip to Yakima and I saw Prez, so I
thought I’d write to you today!
Man, that Yakima! What a location, course, and reunion opportunity for Maniacs! The weekend goes by too quickly. I saw scores of people with whom I
wanted to chat, but all the scurrying about kept us all pretty busy. A warm sense of gratitude for even the briefest talks is inevitable when folks like Claude Hicks,
Mary “Grete Waitz” Hanna, Jane Herzog, Ray, Mel, Rick, SR, Chuck, Cowboy, the incredibly popular Janet, and Ben “Steve Boone” Franklin and the Mrs. Franklin are
your friends. I got the coveted boost from Roger Mac, the cool Canadian, and shared a meal with #3 and Slug. I made new friends, too, like Rodolfo Lucena from
Brazil, and Jack, Gina, and Roger from Great Britain. I even met friends of a friend who couldn’t make it (heal quickly, Keely). I made a new friend out on the course,
as Brian “the Birds’ Best Friend” Pendleton kindly hung back, swapping stories and thoughts, masking the tightening of the tendons. Reviewing all this, maybe we
had a week-long visit after all. One sure isn’t lonely there.
Funny: when I got back east, speedy Emma from Long Island asked whether I’d recommend Yakima. Let me think a min… Yup!
Yakima is like running through the great American West in a John Wayne movie, passing cattle ranches, viewing the stately mountains’ brown cliffs, rocky,
sandy soils, and flowing green grasses, hearing meadowlarks and sensing the eagles sailing above, winding through a canyon carved out by a grand river that invites
a tubing ride, paralleled by train tracks that invite a romantic rail ride, but? We have to run the 26 miles, because arranging for the train ride is the only detail on
earth Lenore hasn’t thought up yet. And so we run, half way up the dry canyon slopes, where the views in every direction are majestic and intimate, creative and
colorful, inspiring and peaceful. What a beautiful place.
Lenore and Bob Dolphin are miraculous race directors. I have seen her lists of things to do. They are handwritten, and they are encyclopedic. Their home is a
repository of all things marathon, framed by a bank vault’s worth of Bob’s trophies, medals, and plaques. She has brought together local, national, and international
groups of volunteers who love returning, both to there and to her, then covering their duties, and then squeezing in a long canyon run. Even Mr. Keith Henry from
Subaru volunteers his time to drive for all sorts of errands because, as he told me, he “just likes it.”
Another club was in attendance. 44 One Hundred Marathon Club Members (American edition) were in the field. (A woman named Lenore organizes this club.
Guess which Lenore. Go ahead, guess.) 100 marathons? That’s misleading, Negative 1. These 44 now average two hundred and fifty-two. 252! (Mr. Macon was not
even there to boost the number, the slacker.) I heard more ridicu… inspiring stories than I can say. But I’ve got a big tip for you, Neg: get Malcolm Anderson’s book,
The Messengers. He brilliantly interviewed 120 runners of One-Hundred Marathons, and wrote their stories down. I know some of these people, and I read this
incredible book, and so many stories still surprised and amazed me! Mr. Anderson was at Yakima, too, and a friendlier fellow you have never met.
And as a loving favor to Lenore, John “The Penguin” Bingham, the 14-year columnist for Runners World, came back to Yakima to honor Bob’s triumphant 500 th .
John is very down-to-earth, his pasta dinner speech great fun. But his improvisational comments after our race efforts were simply hilarious.
Neg, I’m no sports reporter, but there was one fun race within the race that Engle (m) and Emmal (f) won that you can rib certain fellows about. You know we
call the three founders (Prez Steve Yee, Tony Phillippi, and Chris “Hollywood” Warren), “The Three Wise Men.” Well, Tony and Chris raced a jaw-dropping sub-3-hour
battle, and Tony won Low Wise Man by a couple of ticks. (Hmm. Low Wise Man. Somewhere his poor Mom is crying, “I told him to study harder.”)
I used to think golf was the sport to enjoy in retirement, Neg, but not anymore. One, the gray heads seemed to outnumber the youngsters, and more than a
few outran them, too. Guys like Ron Fowler at 64 ran times I can only imagine. I need to rethink the ice cream.
Two, this gentle Dolphin fellow ran. Age has cost him quickness, but not graciousness, no sir. He took the two-hour early start. A friend 25 years his junior took
the regular start. When the friend came within 50 yards of Bob at mile 21, he guessed he might walk in with the old Marine, right?
Well, never lose your humility, Negative 1, never lose it. See, the friend catches the silver-haired Bob, who selflessly encourages the friend, saying, “Look at
you! You started two hours after me, and caught me! Wow, that’s something!”
“Man,” the friend thought, hearing this, “aren’t you tired? How are you even thinking about someone else?” And so he replied to Bob, “If I am even out here in
25 years, then we can talk comparisons, eh?”
They climb half the hill together. The good-hearted Jeff Hagen is accompanying Bob the whole way, so the friend stops to take a picture, and Bob continues his
steady pace, getting a hundred yards ahead. So the younger friend set off after him. 22. 22.5. By 23, Bob has gained another hundred yards. Then he pauses,
leaning on his knees. Clearly he will be caught now.
Ahh, no. He straightens up before the gap is closed, and sets off again, stretching the gap 400 yards. What? So the younger man musters a jog, gets back to
within 150 yards, but then has to walk. Surely with three miles left, he can still catch a guy who is 82.
Not a chance. Determination, single-mindedness, pains, all are surely there in Bob, but above all of these, what surfaced? His impeccable, unshakable
graciousness. That is Bob, this day, all days.
Neg, isn’t glory, real glory, earned in who we are revealed to be, instinctively? I’d say, especially after earning the right to talk of ourselves at age 82, never
mind while exhausted on a hill at a mile numbered 22, our inner thoughts might be revealed? And Bob thinks of others.
I will tell you what… put his 500 marathons aside for a minute. If we can even just carry Bob Dolphin’s sneakers in terms of graciousness, then we did this Life thing
all right, huh?
http://www.marathonmaniacs.com
Luvya,
Rev
dgkienz@yahoo.com
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